The Road Home (a short story)

He unlocked his front door with a sigh. This was not how he'd envisioned the holidays. He'd enjoyed the decorating, and even the arguments about the placement of some of the lights. Now, today, they looked garish, mocking. He didn't even bother to turn them on. After locking the door behind him, he threw his jacket on the couch and made his way upstairs. His shoes felt like bricks. He didn't want to do this alone, but the only person he wanted to lean on was gone forever. Home. This wasn't home. Home was gone. Home would never be the same again. When he opened their bedroom door, her smell was everywhere. Through his tears, he could see the indention in the bed where she'd sat to put on her shoes before leaving for their much-needed vacation. Her lotion tube lay forgotten on the bed where she'd tossed it when he interrupted her packing to kiss her. She'd playfully patted his shoulder and told him she didn't have time, but she gave in and let him kiss her anyway, twining her arms around his neck and lacing her fingers in his hair. He could see her makeup and her toiletries, what she didn't pack in her suitcase, on the bathroom counter. Unable to touch anything, he stumbled downstairs and turned on the tv. In the dark, the flashing light and sounds could almost drown out the noise in his head. The thoughts of 'what am I going to do now?' were loud enough to drive him crazy. He turned off the tv and sat in the dark. He could almost believe she was just in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for them to share in front of the fireplace. When he looked at the darkened doorway to the kitchen and the cold, empty fireplace, he sneered at his hopefulness. The tears just wouldn't stop. He finally gave in and let them come.

He woke up stiff and sore with a splitting headache. He didn't remember falling asleep on the couch, but then, he didn't remember much about the last week. Everything was a blur. The hospital, the funeral home, the relatives' homes, and everything else just ran together. The only constant was the tears. He felt like a stranger in his own skin, his house, his life. Even the sun streaming through the living room window seemed like it came from some other dimension to which he no longer belonged. The warmth and light had no place in his world, cold and dark and so very lonely. He melted into tears again and faded away into the swimming abyss of grief.

The phone was ringing when he surfaced again. The sun was high in the sky, and his stomach was rumbling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He thought it was sometime yesterday but couldn't be sure. He looked at the phone but couldn't fathom speaking to anyone right now. He pulled himself upright and caught a glimpse of his haggard, drawn face staring back at him from the mirror over the mantle. Startled, he jumped and averted his eyes. He needed a shower, but he wasn't about to venture upstairs again, so he opted for the kitchen. He put some coffee on. They had intended to be gone over two weeks, so they'd emptied the fridge of most of the perishable stuff before they left. He found a loaf of bread and some butter, made himself some toast and sat down at the table to eat it. He looked out the window on the backyard. He had taken such care to make it look nice, mowing, mulching, and fertilizing, because he knew she liked it when the grass was green and thick. He would watch her smile as she sunk her toes in the cool grass on summer mornings. Now, like everything else, it seemed foreign, like someone else's backyard. He ate the rest of his toast with his eyes closed.  He drank his coffee in silence without really tasting it. When he was done, he washed his plate and cup and knife and tried to figure out what to do next. His phone was ringing again. He ignored it again. Since he couldn't go upstairs, he took out his toiletry bag from his suitcase and showered in the downstairs bathroom. She had decorated it, and just looking at the frilly curtain and feeling the fuzzy rugs made him cry again. He let the shower carry away the tears.

After the shower, he felt a little more composed. He looked at his phone. His sister had called. Twice. Because he was feeling better, he called her back. She asked if he needed anything. He said no. He couldn't tell her what he needed. He couldn't put a voice to the loneliness and grief. He couldn't say he needed someone to take his hand and tell him what to do next. He couldn't say he needed someone to take over cleaning up all the leftover stuff. He couldn't look at it, but he couldn't bring himself to touch it. He couldn't say he needed someone to be with him while he fell apart but to give him space at the same time. She would have understood, but she was gone.

He cleaned out his suitcase and put his clothes in the washer. He left his toiletries in the downstairs bathroom. Once that was done, he sat in the living room until the shadows lengthened and dusk became dark. Before it was full dark, a neighbor was walking her dog on the sidewalk. She stopped and raised her hand in greeting. He just stared through the window. His arm was too heavy to return her wave. She dropped her hand, smiled a small smile, and walked on. As he sat in the darkness, the doorbell rang. He ignored it. After the third chime, it stopped. He didn't know how long he sat there on the couch after that. He thought he felt hungry. He didn't know anymore-feelings were something that only existed in that dimension he was in before. Now, everything was cold and empty. No feeling. Only tears. Before the tears could overwhelm him again, he got up and looked out the front door. On the doorstep, there was a casserole dish with a sympathy card. "Sorry for your loss," it said. "Yeah, me too," he said to no one in particular as he picked it up. He took the dish to the kitchen, dished out a slice of the casserole and warmed it in the microwave. He ate it at the kitchen table in the dark. When the dishes were cleaned up, he sat on the couch again and watched tv until the tears came again. He felt the warmth of them trail down his face and the cold splash they made when they hit his legs. It was like the warmth of his essence was leaving his body. More days went by without him noticing or caring.

In a few mornings, he had no idea how many really, it was almost like everything was normal. He had dreamed about her. She was smiling and it left a good feeling so he woke in a good mood. It must have been a Saturday, and he could see the neighbors outside tending their chores as the sun warmed up the neighborhood. He could almost envision her in the kitchen making breakfast. He managed a look toward the kitchen door only to realize it was dark and he was alone. He made breakfast of toast and coffee and took it out to the back porch to eat it. Today, he could look at the yard and the plants without immediately breaking down in tears. He finished his toast and drank his coffee listening to the birds who didn't seem quite as foreign as they did yesterday. He took comfort in listening to the sounds of the 'normal' people. After a while, he felt braver and ventured out to let his bare feet sink into the grass. He closed his eyes and pictured her smile. He felt better.

He knew he needed to do some things, but he couldn't imagine what those things might be. He couldn't remember what normal people did. He knew he needed food, but he wasn't about to go to the store and see everyone's pity. He wasn't nearly ready for that. Instead, he decided to check the mail. He waited until everyone had gone inside for lunch to venture out to his mailbox. He practically ran back to the house, afraid of meeting anyone's eyes and having to speak to them. In the mail were holiday cards, sympathy cards, bills, insurance letters, and some junk mail. He threw away the junk, put the cards and insurance letters to the side-he wasn't ready to read them- and opened the bills. Normal people pay bills. He paid them and filed them in the cabinet using the system she insisted on. Instead of grieving, surprisingly, he found comfort in the memory. He ate lunch of bread and some nuts he found in the cabinet and tried to decide how to get food in his house. Eventually, he called his sister and asked her to do it for him. He just couldn't face any of his friends and neighbors yet. His sister came with everything he needed, food, toilet paper, all the things he wouldn't have thought of because She always did the grocery shopping. His sister put everything away, cleaned his bathroom and made dinner for him. He invited her to stay and eat with him. It felt good to talk to someone again. After his sister left, the house felt so empty, almost as empty as the first night he spent there without her. He cried himself to sleep on the couch.

A few weeks later, he decided he should pack up her things. He called his sister to help him. By help, he meant, just do it so I don't have to. She understood without having to be told and did the work quickly. She put away all the holiday decorations and all her stuff and cleaned the house. She also read the mail he couldn't and helped him get it taken care of.  Her husband, his brother-in-law, worked outside, mowing, trimming and taking down the decorations and lights. They ate dinner together and he even laughed a little bit. The world felt a little bit lighter for the first time in almost a month.

Now that all her stuff was gone, the house felt brighter and less oppressive. He could move around the entire house and felt less like a stranger in it. It was like he could almost breathe again. A few weeks after the day they worked to clean out the house, he chose a few pictures of her to put up on the mantle that were his favorites. He cried as he touched the frames she had picked out and relived the memories of when each picture was taken. He talked to her sometimes, when he was feeling lonely. Then he would sit in the silence and wait for her answers. They never came. He went to sleep thinking of her smile.

The phone was ringing when he woke. The sun was shining through the bedroom window. He didn't remember going to bed in their bed. He must have ventured up there when he was looking through pictures. The memories were vivid in his mind, and he spent much of the day thinking of her and their life together. After dinner, he checked his phone and realized his boss had called. Normal people go to work. He decided he wasn't that normal yet and put the phone down. He flipped on the tv and watched until he fell asleep. No tears came.

Sometime after that, a few days maybe, he called his boss back. Normal people go to work. He could go to work, but didn't know if he was normal. Maybe normal wasn't what he thought. Maybe normal was something altogether different now. He gave himself a week, almost four months after she died, and set a date to go back.

Those days passed in a blur. He spent them getting him and his stuff ready. He washed, pressed and hung his shirts and pants, found his briefcase and filled it with normal things-notebook, pen, wallet, calendar. On the last night before he returned to work, he walked through the house, turning out lights one by one, remembering her. Remembering her presence. He could feel her there with him-watching him, comforting him. He settled into bed more content that he could remember feeling in a very long time and slept a dreamless sleep. The next morning, the sun was shining, breakfast actually tasted good, and he found a spring in his step. No darkness. No guilt. Only a shadow of longing to share this with her, but he knew she was there just beyond what he could see. He could still feel here there. As he backed out of the driveway, he was so focused on the brightness and novelty of the world, he never saw the bus before it smashed into his car. The light glared even brighter and filled his entire consciousness. Suddenly, a hand grasped his. He looked up into her beautiful face and smiled. Drawing her into an embrace, he heard her say, "Welcome home, sweetheart."

Speed Week 2014 that never was and the vacation that almost wasn't

Welcome to Strosser Vacation 101.
First lesson: Nothing will go as planned.
Lesson 2: see lesson 1.
Congratulations-you've officially graduated from Strosser Vacation 101!

For years, Clinton has followed the story of Mickey and Danny Thompson. Mickey built a car that set land speed records on the salt flats of Bonneville, but was gunned down over a business dispute before he could compete again with his son, Danny. Danny has since returned to the racing scene with the same car to try to revive his father's legacy and set some more records. We wanted to be part of that rebuilding. At first, we deliberated whether we would go at all. Then we decided that, yes, we will go, and then the weather was iffy. Finally, on Wednesday, the SCTA posted they would delay racing, but it would still be held. We bought our plane tickets and paid for our hotel reservation We were going now, no matter what.

Friday, I dropped off the kids and the dog at Nana's and Poppy's at 6pm and returned home to finish packing my own suitcase and readying the house to be gone for 5 days. 4:00am Saturday came awfully early. We left by 4:40, only 10 minutes behind schedule. About 10 minutes into the drive, I realized we didn't have a copy of our insurance card for the car rental. We turned around to retrieve it, and then we were REALLY late All this is not a surprise to the Strosser clan, who is perpetually, by definition, late. So, we screeched to a halt in long-term parking and boarded a miraculously present shuttle at 5:31am. I checked in online, so we just had to go thru security. I whipped off my shoes, emptied my pockets, and pulled out my baggie of liquids, tossed them in the bins, and stood on the little yellow feet with my arms stretched overhead. Behind me, I heard, 'What's that on your pants, sir?" Clinton replied, "I spilled water on my lap in the car." "I'm sorry, but I have to touch it." the security guard replied. I thought we were going to miss our flight right then and there, to the tune of a $200 change fee per ticket. Turns out, that took all of a couple seconds and we were speeding through the airport. On the way, we dodged sleepy travelers and wandering toddlers, all at breakneck speed while pulling a suitcase and trying to finish tying my shoes. We skidded to a stop in front of our gate at 5:50am for a 6am flight and heard, "Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Strosser! We've been waiting for you!" That's flight attendant speak for "Get your a** on the plane-You're late!" The flight attendants rebuke was nothing compared to the icy stares of our fellow passengers as we boarded the plane. I'd like to note, we arrived 10 minutes ahead of schedule in Phoenix. The layover and the rest of the flight were uneventful, thankfully! As I settled into my seat, I turned my phone off and tried to lower my heart rate and relax.

We touched down in Salt Lake City about 10am and went in search of our rental car. Our attendant had a bum foot and asked if we wanted a free upgrade to a minivan, since the compacts were parked so far away. We declined, on the basis of gas mileage and ease of parking. We settled on a black VW Jetta, just one step up from the compact we reserved, but a nice car, nonetheless They didn't even ask for my insurance card.

As we pulled out of the airport in search of Coachman's, a cash-only dive recommended by the Enterprise attendant for breakfast for their Swedish pancakes, I checked my phone. There, on the screen, was a text that changed our whole trip: "Hey, I saw the races were canceled for good. Is that true?" or something like that. We spent the rest of our time at breakfast (FANTASTIC food and atmosphere, btw) searching the SCTA website for confirmation, and yes, it was true. So now what?

I texted Clinton's cousin Lance and his brother and sister-in-law, Garrett and Charla, both of whom live in Utah, and told them we had a much freer schedule than we'd originally anticipated. I sat back and waited for a reply. While I waited, I idly perused the Utah visitors website for ideas of how to spend our 5 days, now that we wouldn't be at the track for most of them.

Danny Thompson's car in front of Montego Bay Casino

The rest of that first day was spent in a haze of disappointment and more than a little frustration. We checked into our hotel, The Crystal Inn & Suites in downtown SLC (a boon, considering it was really well appointed, the staff was nice, and I picked it sight unseen). Then we decided we'd go out to Wendover and the salt flats anyway, just to see if anybody was still hanging out. We pulled into Montego Bay casino (we stayed there 2 nights last year with the kids-gorgeous hotel!), and there in all its glory, stood Danny Thompson's car in front of the main entrance. We'd hoped to get a tshirt and get it signed by him, but it was not to be. We got a few pics of the car and spent the rest of the afternoon stalking the casino floor, but we didn't see Danny. The salt flats were essentially a lake. You couldn't really drive on them, much less set records. You can see in the pics below, where the water is-That's supposed to be dry salt.We saw some interesting people out there, including the World's Fastest Hot Tub, which pulled up next to us as we parked and asked, "Excuse me, is this carpool parking?" Clever.

"Excuse me-Is this carpool parking?"

After that, we returned to the casino, ate a $50 buffet and then headed out to walk it off. We ran across an impromptu car show across the street at another casino. They had all kinds of rat rods, panel trucks, hot rods and a couple of vendors of race swag, Salt Flat history, and more parked outside the hotel and in the parking garage. We took it all in, and then we decided it was time to call it a day.

on the salt flats

a streamliner parked at a hotel in Wendover

Genius decided to play in the wet salt and got stuck

At the salt flats

The next day, we met Lance and Julie at Ruth's Diner, the second oldest restaurant in Utah. They had awesome food, and the portions were HUGE. I regretted stuffing myself later when we found ourselves at Snowbird Ski Resort. We purchased an all day activity pass and rode the Alpine Slide and Coaster on toboggans and the Mountain Flyer (a type of zip line but on a chair instead of a harness), and the tram and chair lifts.
When we reached the top of the mountain, we were pelted with what I first thought was rain, but it turned out to be little ice balls. In August. Crazy.
After the 'rain' let up, we hiked around a bit and rode the chair lift down to ride the rides some more. We ate at a Mexican food restaurant at the resort and wisely chose to abide by the signs which said "Don't feed the animals. They bite!" when the chipmunks, ground squirrels and potguts came begging at our table (see video). Sunburnt, full of good food, and exhilarated from all the activity, we drove back down to SLC. Once there, after waving at all the zombies running around for Comic-con, we found a little gastropub, Gracie's, with a second story patio in downtown and drank a beer, watching the scenery and people with equal interest.

on the drive to Park City

abandoned mine building

Water tanks for abandoned mine

view of Park City from the lift

Monday, we decided to drive out to Park City, after a second breakfast at Ruth's. The drive was beautiful! Mountains, lakes, canyons, oh my! When we arrived and parked, we visited the shops and galleries on Main Street for a couple of hours and ended up at High West Whiskey Distillery for our distillery tour. We topped off the informative tour with a tasting flight of 4 whiskeys, all of which were amazing!, and then took a ride on the Town Lift up to the mountain. We hiked around, looking at all the abandoned mine buildings. As soon as we boarded the lift to come down, it started lightening and thundering. We managed to make it to the bottom, only slightly rained on. We left Park City about 5pm and headed into Provo for a dinner of Indian food with Lance, Lance's daughter Tarin, Clinton's brother Garrett, and his wife Charla and son Miles. The restaurant, Bombay House, was SO GOOD! We decided to share our entrees family style, and I didn't try one thing I didn't like! If the food was good, the conversation was great! We all had a wonderful time catching up and visiting with one another. Afterward, Clinton and I strolled up and down the street and looked in on a couple of wine bars and music venues before we called it a night.

Tuesday broke with renewed heat. For Utah folks, that means over 85 degrees in August. Phew! We had a full day ahead of us, and after a McDonald's breakfast, we drove to Ogden, Utah to Hill Air Force Base Aerospace Museum. They had SO MANY planes there. The in-depth exhibits were informative and interesting. I'd say, of all the air museums we've been to (and there have been MANY) Hill AFB is second only to the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum in Washington, D.C.

One of the many planes we saw at Hill AFB

   

For our final destination of the trip, we chose Timpanogos Cave in American Fork Canyon-an aggressive venture, to be sure. There, we met Lance and his 3 sons, Brayden, Isaiah, and Carter. I knew right then I was out-manned and would probably fall behind. There were signs warning, "This hike is strenuous. Please rest often" or something like that. When we left Snowbird, there were signs on the exit doors stating, "Outside these doors, hazards exist. Please use caution." so I didn't take those warnings in Timpanogos quite as seriously as I probably should have. The hike to the cave is about a mile and a half. But it's almost straight up. You gain 1100 feet of altitude in that mile and a half, to end at the mouth of the cave at over 6700 feet. For a sea-level dweller, it might as well have been climbing into outer space. After about the 4th switchback, I have never been so glad to see a bench. I was already out of breath, and was ready for a break.

Seriously? You're taking my picture right now?! At least the boys look like they're having fun.

We sat down and rested until our heart rate went back down to somewhere near normal before we set out again. Before we reached the next switchback, I was seriously winded and considered going back down to the bench. Then we passed a sign that read "1/4 way". WTF?! About halfway up, you couldn't hear any sounds of civilization, only the rushing river below. And our panting. We finally managed to make it up the mountain. I SWEAR I heard "Eye of the Tiger" playing as we crested the cave entrance. It could have just been the blood rushing in my ears.

When we entered the cave, the sweat on my clothes made the 45 degree chill even colder, but after a few minutes, I didn't even notice anymore. The cave is actually 3 caves joined together by man-made tunnels. Each room or cave had flowstone formations that looked like flowing rivers in the rock and so much more. To say the cave was beautiful is an understatement! I especially enjoyed the story of how they were found and subsequently opened to the public. Some of the passages were quite narrow and required acrobatics to get through them without touching the formations-no small feat with a backpack and after the exertion of climbing the mountain. Our general consensus: What do you mean, they were playing around and found the entrance? Why would they be climbing up this far without a reason, and how would they have the energy afterward to 'play around'??

View of the canyon and mountains and the city beyond  from the mouth of the cave

Once out of the cave, it was time to descend. Even going down, the walk was quite taxing. We stopped several times to rest our knees. Once, when we were snacking on some trail mix, a waiting squirrel approached and looked expectantly at us, not unlike a predator stalking its prey. After that, it wouldn't leave us alone, threatening to climb up our legs and take what he wanted, so we decided it was time to move on. I guess that warning about feeding the wildlife on Snowbird was based on fact and also applies at Timpanogos. Shortly after that, it started raining-hard! By the time we reached the bottom, we were soaked. We stopped at a pizza buffet place on the way out of the canyon and gorged ourselves on pizza, salad, pasta and a genius culinary invention of "cookie dough pizza". SO GOOD! I wanted to take a whole one home! It was well after dark when we arrived back at our hotel, and we crashed out almost immediately.

The next morning was spent taking care of a little business on the computer-emails and such, and another breakfast at McDonald's. We packed up our things, read for a while and checked out of the hotel. After exploring North Salt Lake City, driving around, we headed to the airport and checked into our flight. We did the usual airport pastimes-reading, eating, people watching, etc.-and boarded our plane. This time, there was no rushing, no running, no icy stares, and despite a little turbulence, the flight home was uneventful. We retrieved our car and left the Austin airport about 930pm, picked up Taco Bell on the way and afterward, slept soundly in our own bed.

This was taken at the hotel, but it's what I felt like when we finally arrived home!

Even though our trip was nothing like we envisioned it when we set out, we had a terrific time! It's good to be home!

4 year old interview about himself

Recently, my sister-in-law suggested I conduct this interview or something similar with Colton (almost 4), like Amber at Parenting: Illustrated with Crappy Pictures. I think it's safe to say we're pretty big fans of hers. :) Given his typically boisterous personality, I decided this could be entertaining, so I did. This was the result. 

What do you love most? 

     "Cupcakes"

If you could have one wish, what would you wish for? 

     "A Spaceship"

What is the meaning of life? 

    "What is life?"

What are you supposed to do when you're alive? 

     "Play"

What do you want to be when you grow up? 

    "A Daddy"

What are you most afraid of?

    "Monsters"

What is the funniest word you've ever heard? 

     "Juggle"

If you had all the money in the world, what would you do with it? 

     “Pay it to the pay guy” 

Who’s the pay guy? 

     “Daddy”

What makes you mad? 

    “When Lincoln (1yr old brother) takes my toys.”

What’s really hard to do? 

      “To obey.”

What’s really easy to do? 

     “cleaning up my room”

What is the meaning of love? 

     “It means, I love you forever”

Who do you love most? 

     "You"

What makes you happy? 

     "You"

The answers weren't as crazy as I would have expected from him. They were rather tame, actually. The last three, though, were my favorite. <3

Testament to human kindness

At the grocery store this evening, I decided to treat myself and purchase premade cookies, something I haven't done in months. After spending some time reading labels, I realized there are startlingly few which are peanut-allergy friendly. Besides the overtly peanut butter ones (nutter butters, and those with peanut butter cups in them, etc.), most are made in facilities that also process peanuts. During my reading, Colton kept taking different boxes off the shelf and asking for different types of cookies. After about the tenth time of explaining why we couldn't buy each one, I opted to just make my own. There was a woman in the aisle with me who mentioned her conversations with her young daughter were similar to ours, and food allergies are the worst. I agreed with her. At this time,it dawned on me I was out of chocolate chips and told Colton so, and that we were going to buy some. Sadly, I found most chocolate chips are also processed in facilities that process peanuts. I was so disappointed. I wanted cookies, and it wasn't supposed to be this hard. I stood in front of the chocolate chips trying to read labels faster than my older son could open the bags and boxes of food already in the cart and the younger could get turned around and tangled up in the seat, and I saw the same woman walking down the baking aisle. She had clearly followed me as she didn't stop anywhere else in the aisle. She handed me a box of chocolate chip cookies, and said, "here are the ones I've found to be the best. My daughter has allergies to peanuts, eggs, gluten and dairy. These are the ones that comply and taste the best, even if they are a little crunchy. I hope this helps. Food allergies were a learning process for us too." I just about broke into tears at the kindness shown to me by a total stranger. I thanked her and she went her way and I went mine. I don't even know her name, but she took an overwhelming prospect and made it into a manageable one for me. I can only hope she knows the difference she made.

As an FYI, the brand of cookie is Back To Nature . I did find a chocolate chip brand that said their chips are processed in a gluten and peanut free facility right on the package: Guittard. See pic below.

We've come a long way, Baby!

I don't do too many posts focusing solely on my kids, but I thought it would be a good idea to chronicle their progress. I may want this someday. :)

Colton has come so far in this past week. He can officially take care of bathroom business-including handwashing, fully dress himself including shoes (not socks though-they're hard!), and pour juice and water ALL BY HIMSELF. He is an excellent cleaner-even separates toys into appropriate bins without help. He can successfully manipulate stickers and is getting better about coloring and painting in the lines. He LOVES watercolors and play dough. He can use scissors and dispense appropriate amounts of glue for googly eyes and pom poms and also put the right amount of toothpaste on his toothbrush. We're still working on the handsoap as he creates a slick on the counter every time he washes his hands. (For the record, I've tried the rubber band thing so he can only push the plunger down a little bit, but he absolutely refuses to stop at one pump. ugh.) He can even match correct letters 100% of the time to make sight-words in an iPad app I just acquired. He doesn't know letters by name or sound yet, just matches shapes, but the app sounds the letters out and pronounces the words for him, making it the first step in recognition. He can also recite several of his books, as well as the rhyme, "Little Miss Muffet" which I presented orally (no pics), by rote.

Lincoln is jabbering away, cruising and standing independently (although not yet walking) and can recognize several words and tries to repeat them. Even though he's not walking independently, he likes to walk behind his walker toy and gets angry when he runs it into a wall or door jamb. He's totally into putting things in boxes and buckets and taking them out again. We have a box full of bean bags for that purpose. He eats about 15 oz of food per meal four times per day. He is fully weaned (for almost a month) and is eating mostly solid food now. I only feed him purees when I feel lazy and don't want to clean up a mess. He still won't drink milk, but eats yogurt and cheese like it's going out of style. He gave me a high five for the first time yesterday too. He has all 8 front teeth (and has since he was about 9 months old), and his 1 year molars are poised to come out. The top left one is already through, and the others are painfully swollen and red. He is fearless and ready to follow big brother anywhere no matter the consequences. He also loves to horseplay.

Thank you all for listening to my enthusiasm for my children's accomplishments. Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming. :)

Oh, Baby! Why do you do the things you do?

For a while, I've been compiling questions in my head that I can never ask. Specifically, questions I would like to ask my 9.5 month old baby. I would LOVE to know why he does some things.

1. What is humorous to you? For example, you laugh at your own feet. You laugh when I shake my head or look at you with a certain look, or play peek a boo. You laugh when you're being tickled. You laugh when your brother squeezes you so tight, your face turns red. I'm pretty sure you laugh when you want others to laugh-even though nothing funny is going on. Why? How do you determine what's funny?

2. What is SO FREAKING INTERESTING behind the wood stove that you must crawl back there at least 4 times/day?? I mean, I understand unshelving the DVD's at least once an hour because they're bright colors, have faces, etc., but a deep, dark, dirty space that's impossible to squeeze my body behind to extricate you without banging your limbs or head when you become entangled in its legs-c'mon!

3. Why do you look over my shoulder when I look at you sometimes? It makes me think there's something behind me. Then when I look and there's nothing there, I wonder if you can see ghosts. It seriously creeps me out.

4. Why must you chew on electrical cords? I understand it if they are just within your reach and we don't realize it or if they are accidentally left so that you tangle yourself in them. However, if you see one across the room, you will crawl as fast as you can to get to it and immediately shove it in your mouth with its sharp little teeth and commence gnawing. I thought we gave up that annoyance when we bid adieu to those cats.

5. How do you choose when to sleep and eat? Some days you do exactly as you need to (sleep when you're tired, etc.) Other days, you fight it every step of the way. There is no logic to it that I can figure.

I'm sure this list will grow as I have time to think of more. Until then, I will continue to be amazed by you every day. :)

An injustice corrected

Sometimes, we stroll down memory lane alone, just remembering the way things were. Other times, we amble as a group and make a few adjustments. This weekend, we attended the consecration of a grave that had previously been unblessed. It was a grave of a four-year-old boy, named Robert Earl Strosser, my father-in-law's uncle. He passed away after dehydrating as a result of eating too many green apples or pears. The oral history is unclear on his actual cause of death as he died in 1921. At the time of his death, there was some disagreement about the fact he was not laid to rest in a Catholic cemetery so the serving priest refused to bless the grave. Saturday, that injustice was addressed and corrected. Deacon Ed conducted the consecration and gave a beautiful prayer, and for that, we cannot be grateful enough. My mother-in-law brought the prayer book of Robert's mother and a picture of her at her first communion and laid it on the grave during the service. There are no pictures of the little boy that we know of. Inside the prayer book, Helen (the mother) had written many events, like births and deaths. It broke this mother's heart to see how she had to squeeze in the date of her little boy's death, as I'm sure she didn't expect to write it in herself and did not leave enough room.

There was one woman, Dorothy Heib, at the consecration who had attended the funeral as a six-year-old girl. She is 93 now. She told of how she was forced to sit during the service and was restless and wanted to know what was going on. As soon as my father-in-law's father (her uncle) relaxed his grip on her hand, she scampered up to the grave site as they were lowering the casket. She said a chill came over her as she saw the fabric lining the grave and the dirt falling on top of the casket as they filled in the hole. She ran back to him as fast as she could. She recalled he held her especially hard after that, but it was unnecessary since she was so disturbed.

After the service, we all went to Schilo's to drink homemade root beer and eat Ruebens or hamburger steak. We talked for hours, sharing memories and making new ones.

These memories are important to all of us. Without oral history, we lose the spirit of our existence and of who we are. When our elders pass on those memories, we become the keeper of them. They belong to us. It is our responsibility to protect their integrity and pass them to our children. It is also our responsibility to ensure our children are aware of these responsibilities and act on them. So the next time you find yourself on the listening end of a story that begins, "Back then, things were different...," relax and really listen and take it in. You never know what you might learn about your elders, or about yourself.

Halloween inspired short story

He was about ready to burst with excitement. Jack was getting ready for the best night of his life. He still couldn't believe Candace had agreed to go out with him. He'd been trying to ask her out for years and finally got up the courage to ask her this past Wednesday. She'd said yes almost immediately. Afterward, it was everything he could do not to jump up and do a fist pump. or pass out. at least until she was out of sight and earshot. He finished brushing his unruly ginger hair back from his face and made sure there was no food stuck in obvious places in his braces. He was hoping to get as far as second base tonight, and he wanted to be ready. Contrary to the teasing from his friends, he'd been on dates before, but never with a cheerleader with an awesome body. Who cares if it was a pity date? A date was a date. They had also teased him about the fact that her last boyfriend had disappeared, calling her a black widow and applying other less than imaginative labels. Her previous flame was the quarterback of the football team and had not been seen in months. No one knew what happened to him. He shook that thought out of his mind and tried to mentally prepare himself for his date.

Candace slipped her up dress over her hips and pulled the zipper up the side. She pulled her sandals onto her feet and put the final touches on her hair and makeup. Eyes as yellow as her blond hair stared back at her from the mirror. She dabbed a little bit of perfume on her neck and wrists and blew out a puff of air she'd been holding in her chest. Tonight was her date with Jack. He'd been bugging her for months, years really, but it had really started to bother her recently. Over the last few weeks, he'd been following her around like a forlorn puppy, asking to carry her bag to practice, her lunch tray and anything else he could do to just talk to her. Even if she was interested in him, which she wasn't in the least, his desperation made him extremely unattractive. She finally agreed to go out with him to end this annoying chapter of her life. He had finally arrived pick her up and knocked on the door. She heard him enter and her dad and brothers were giving him the business in the front room. Her mother had never been a part of her life. She'd been gone since Candace was small. Her father and brothers were very protective of her as the only girl, and truthfully, she liked it that way.

She walked into the living room and everyone fell quiet and looked at her as she entered.
"You look great, Candace. Are you ready to go?" asked Jack.
"Yeah. Let's go, Jack. Dad, I'm sure I'll be home on time. In fact, I promise." She cut his admonition short before he could say it out loud.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't." her eldest brother quipped.
She rolled her eyes and dragged Jack out onto the porch. The full moon shone brightly. She shivered slightly and walked through the shadows it cast on the sidewalk to Jack's car. He opened the passenger door for her as she expected, and she experienced the first stab of guilt. He really was working hard for this date. She steeled her resolve. She couldn't have him following her around like he had been.

He took her on a typical high school date. They ate dinner at the local hangout and then saw a movie. It was October, so they decided on a slasher flick. He made the choice hoping if she was frightened, she would jump and hide her face in his chest or shoulder, or at the very least, press herself against his arm. In actuality, she seemed to thrive on the gore as the characters were picked off, in increasingly fantastic fashion.

At the end of the movie, it was Candace who suggested they drive up to Sandy Mountain. Sandy Mountain was where all the kids went to make out. As he drove, he became increasingly aroused and became anxious he would get too excited too fast. He needn't have worried. As soon as he parked and turned off the lights, she pounced on him. Her hands worked inside his shirt as her tongue lashed into his mouth. He tasted blood as she mashed his lips into his braces, and that only seemed to fuel her excitement. His hands found the hem of her shirt, moved under it, and his hands cupped her breast over the satiny material of her bra. He squeezed and kneaded and pinched and she seemed to lose herself, growling as he worked his hand under the material to touch her skin.

Her hands came up to his neck, and she was scratching him as she clutched at him. He was too aroused to care. It happened in an instant. Candace snapped his neck back quickly, he almost didn't hear the snap of the breaking bone. She drew her hand across his neck opened a large gash with her fingernail. He couldn't feel it because his spinal cord had been severed, but warm, rich blood flowed down his arm and chest and pooled in his lap in the bucket seat. His head drooped awkwardly against the window as his unsupported muscles failed and the blood drained from him. As his life dimmed, he saw a dense shadow in the woods, a pair of eyes reflecting the moonlight. With his final breath, he rolled his eyes to the passenger seat and saw Candace was gone.

****************

Candace padded into her living room just before midnight. "See, I told you I'd be home on time." she said with a smirk. 

"Did you finish your date?" her dad inquired, his yellow eyes gleaming.

"Yes of course. He tried to get fresh with me at Sandy Mountain. You'll find him there."

Her padded out of the room, sniffing the air as he did. Her brothers followed him single file, and they all disappeared into the night.

*****************

The next morning, the police found Jack's car on Sandy Mountain, covered in blood, but there was no sign of Jack. Local law enforcement said the amount of blood they found in the car ensured Jack would not have survived whatever happened. His body was never found. They found the quarterback's letter jacket in the trunk of Jack's car. It was supposed Jack was responsible for the quarterback's disappearance-an act of jealousy, and a vigilante exacted vengeance for it. Due to lack of hard evidence, including either body, nothing was ever confirmed. Over the years, there were others, mostly young men, who disappeared in that area. It was assumed they were either hunting mishaps, or a bear or a very large wolf was responsible, even though no animal or den was ever found close by. Only Candace and her family knew the truth. 

Am I cursed?

I included this picture from my husband's recent hunting trip. That's right, a bull snake. A wild one-not a pet. IN THE JEEP! Yes, it was somebody's fault for leaving the door open, but still.

Now that your skin is sufficiently crawling, I can say this: I think someone is trying to tell us something. In the last 5 years or so, we've had more than our fair share of run-ins with snakes. Ok, we live in the country, so that allows for more than the average, but I still think it's been excessive-some were harmless, but some were venomous. For example, about 5 years ago, we had a rattler coiled up in the darkest corner of the yard by the house. Turns out, he had a friend under the house with him.

Then about 4 years ago, the first bull snake fried himself on our transformer. at 11pm. on a weeknight where it was still 100 degrees. Thank goodness the electric company fixed it by 2am.

Shortly after that, I'd say probably a month, we were walking at the outlet mall in San Marcos and ran across a snake on the sidewalk in front of one of the stores. Same kind as at our house-a bull snake, I think. Incidentally, the security guard at the mall wouldn't do anything about it, so Clint got one of those expandable hanger things they use to hang clothes up high and took it out to the field behind the mall. He looked like the pied piper with all the people following to get a look at the snake.

About a month after that, there was another bull snake stretched out on top of the chain link fence in our back yard. Through an unfortunate series of events, Clinton ended up jousting with it in the front yard with a leaf rake. Quality entertainment for the neighbors, for sure! That was a really bad season.

The next spring, we were able to hear the snake that took up residence in our attic sliding around. He's been up there since. Fun. NOT!

Pretty much every year since then, we've had a snake blow out our transformer. This year, we had 2.

We hosted a crawfish boil earlier this summer where a guest killed a little rattler in our garage.

Since they excavated the toll road behind us, we've killed several rattlers, a couple per year, by running them over with the car down the road, close to the creek.

Then the snake in the jeep, above.

We could get a barn cat to take care of the snakes around the house. However, the neighbors dogs would see to it that cat didn't last long since they run loose in the neighborhood. Or sulphur. Or any number of things you can do to your house to make it less desirable for snakes to visit or live. That begs the question, though, why do snakes find us EVERYWHERE? I'm convinced there is no solution. We are just plagued by snakes and there's nothing we can do about it. Just call me Medusa (without the whole 'turning to stone' phenom).

Transition and new beginnings

In June, I made a rather abrupt transition from working full-time to full-time child-rearing and homemaking. I'm not going to lie-I'm not that good at being a full-time mom. I get frustrated easily and am not good at being consistent ALL day. Plus, I miss my work friends, the company, and the work itself. I miss the time it afforded me away from household chores and responsibilities (even if I still had to look at the piles of laundry and listen to the baby's screams and Colton's attitude because I worked in my bedroom.) I'm making progress, but it's been a little rough in places. You know, like the place where you haven't had a second to yourself in three days because the hubby has worked through dinner/bath/bedtime, and then he says he's leaving for a weekend with the boys (adult friends, not our kids) at the end of the month. I've slammed a few doors, shed a few tears and would give up just about anything to shower or potty or eat a full meal without interruption or at least while it's still warm. In the end, though, it's been the most rewarding job I can think of, even if it is also the most stressful. My career has been in education and also customer service, so the fact that I think it's more stressful than that is saying something. The extra stress is worth it to see my happy, growing children, even if I want to strangle them sometimes. C'mon, though-let's be real. Who hasn't entertained the idea of strangling their employees, co-workers or boss at some point?? I am so glad I now get to have conversations and take nature hikes with my 3 year old and sing with my 7 month old. Colton has learned how to push my buttons, but he's also learned a few other things from me too. He may not prefer to perform on command, but he knows several letters and numbers by sight, how to use scissors and beads, and "reads" to Lincoln at bedtime. I missed a lot of that with Colton by working nights starting at 6 months of age. I was so tired for most of his life, I couldn't enjoy him as much as I wanted to. Now, if I miss a couple of hours of sleep overnight, I don't have to worry as much as if I also had to juggle a job. I take things in stride a lot better and am infinitely less stressed than I was for the one month I tried to go back to work after Lincoln was three months old. Clinton is less stressed too.With him working days and me working nights, we had zero together time, and almost no social life or free time. It was starting to grate on both of our nerves. Now we have the freedom to enjoy our kids and enjoy each other. Clinton has also commenced taking classes again so I am alone one night a week.

With all that extra free time (?!) I am starting to look for something more. I believe after the middle of the month, I will begin working on Christmas presents and plans. I know that seems early, but everything takes twice as much time when juggling two kids. I never knew it could take me 2 hours to cook a simple dinner or bake a cake, but with Colton's help and Lincoln's distraction, it is the norm now. Plus, sometimes, things that are finished or almost finished either get taken apart or ruined by said help and distraction later in the process. I am also thinking of planting a fall garden in the next week or so, some pumpkins and such.That is to say, I will plant a garden in the spring instead, since I'm pretty sure I'm not going to actually get a garden in the ground in time for fall. It's a nice thought though. With next year's crops, I'd like to do more canning and freezing so I have some of our stuff leftover for next fall/winter. All of these things, however, require no new skills. After the first of the year, I may try something I've never done before, like knitting or crocheting (I have crocheted before, but only simple stuff) or some more complicated sewing than curtains or skirts. I have not yet decided what new project I should learn. I have enjoyed cooking, so I might take a class to learn more about specialty culinary arts or something. I could do a little bit of all those things too. Maybe I'll scrap all that and work on writing. Who knows what I'll eventually decide? Many parents, including myself fear losing their personal identity once they have kids. Maybe I'll find a new one I like better. Maybe I'll just add another one I like as much as the "old me" to make me more well-rounded. Either way, I am excited to start getting reacquainted with myself and continue growing as a person and a wife, mother, and homemaker. Here's to the next chapter in my life!

The Evolution of a Stay At Home Mom

When we think of "Stay At Home Mom," we envision the 1950's woman with the trim waist, perfectly coiffed hair with make-up applied (including lipstick) pushing a vacuum in an immaculate house while her children read on the couch. Secondarily, we may also think of the pioneer woman who is beautiful in a very natural way in her homemade clothes, making soap, butter or kneading bread at her plank-wood table with a stone oven in the background with the children playing with wooden dolls on the floor. What I find interesting in both of these well-accepted visions is the role of the mother and the level of interaction in her children's lives.

In each vision, the mother is engaged in activites other than interacting directly with her children. The assumption is the father in each of these scenarios is out providing for the family in some way, whether hunting for food or earning money to buy it while the mother is supposedly providing instruction for her children. I find it very interesting the perspective we have of our mothers and grandmothers being involved directly and in a quality way in their kid's lives and today's mothers are checked out, more concerned with working out and playing on the computer or phone than being with thier children. However contrarily, we envision these earlier generations of women whom we revere as super-moms engaged in chores, not play, or even instruction of their kids. Why now, do we say mothers are less engaged than mothers used to be? Most of the SAHM's I know set aside some limited time for chores/errands, but are mostly swimming, hiking, coloring or playing pretend with their kids. Others are gardening, taking them to museums or parks or cooking together. Not many of my SAHM friends have perfect houses or even wear make up regularly. We have evolved from the "overseer" of the past to the "playmate" of the present. Please note, I am not referencing those who do not "parent" their children and believe they are friends, but I believe mothers, whether SAHM, WAHM, or working outside the home, are more immediately aware of our children's needs and meeting them more than ever before by being directly invovled. My challenge to myself and all the moms out there is to leave the housework for later, and continue interacting with your kids. Do not feel pressured to work all day on chores to conform to an ideal that didn't exist as we envision it did. Bring on the fun, Mom!

Mother, O' Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth.
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

 Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek - peekaboo.

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew,
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo.
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.
 
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,
 But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

~ Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

A little bit of this, a little bit of that...

In addition to being the mantra for my culinary adventures, "A little bit of this, a little bit of that" is how I live my life. I like to keep things mixed up, but mostly it's a default. Between my husband and kids, I have minimal control over my time. I find myself at the end of the day, standing in a pile of toys with my almost-3-year-old, saying, "What HAVE I done today?"

The answer is simple: A little bit of this, a little bit of that! We eat, we play outside, we play inside, and we interact with the baby and change diapers, call and/or meet up with our friends, do chores, play pretend and read. In the coming months, I will add gardening and crafty-type projects to my repertoire list as well. I enjoy the variety this provides in our lives and will encourage my children to diversify their interests as well.

I hope I'm lucky enough that when I'm 94, I can look around and still answer the age old question of how I spent my day with "A little bit of this and a little bit of that!"

There is no end...

..to the things you can obsess about when it comes to being a mother. Right now, my current obsession is poop. Yes, you heard me. P.O.O.P. Baby poop, to be exact. You can stop reading now, if you have a weak stomach-Parenting is a messy business.

When Colton was about three months old, he started having stinky, foamy green diapers and really awful gas. He was diagnosed with lactose intolerance. Following the advice of the pediatrician, I was forced to give up all dairy in the hopes of curbing this issue, including that in baked goods. Ok, I gave it up voluntarily, but c'mon-who wouldn't, if it meant their kid would be more comfortable and still have the benefit of breastmilk? I did this for about two months, and it made for a very miserable holiday season for me and made absolutely NO difference for him. Neither did the Culturelle I was dissolving in expressed breastmilk in a dropper and giving to him twice a day-what a pain in the a**. I found out just recently, this results from the baby not getting enough hindmilk during nursing. My body was producing milk that was too thin and/or not triggering multiple let-downs during each nursing session to release the hindmilk I DID have, so he couldn't digest it properly-hence the nasty diapers and gas. It had NOTHING to do with the lactose in my diet. My body would make the lactose for him (more abundant in the fore-milk), whether I consumed it or not. He finally started on solids and bottled breastmilk (all mixed together-no multiple let-downs needed) at night when he was six months old-when I started my job. No WONDER the problem corrected itself then. Duh. Worse-because he was having such trouble, I delayed starting him on solids when he was clearly ready at 4 months so the problem persisted longer than it should have. <enter Mommy guilt-also a favorite obsession of mine.>

A couple of weeks ago, I learned I could possibly have prevented or corrected this by making sure to fully empty each side and not limit nursing time. I made both mistakes with Colton. Too late now, but better late than never. However, with Lincoln, I have not limited his time while nursing, (except the last feeding at night because I work and have to nurse on my 15 minute break and the kid flat-out refuses a bottle in any form) and I have made a conscious effort to empty each side fully. Even with this new knowledge and implementation, Lincoln's diapers turned green about the 3 month mark too. I've managed to keep it at a minimum-yellow green mostly and not nearly as stinky but still thrashing while eating and afterward with constant gas, by being extra-diligent and with constant nursing in multiple positions during the day, but I wonder if my kids truly are just lactose-intolerant. They say it's a very rare diagnosis. Either that, or I just don't produce the quality milk they need or just have inefficient delivery of it after 3 months. Or (on the same vein) they're ready for solids sooner to supplement-Heaven forbid! The pediatrician would have a freakin' coronary if I talked about solids before 6 months-certainly before 4! Or worse-I have to transition to pumping exclusively and force him to take a bottle instead. I hate pumping! Talk about a pain in the a**. This option would probably bring about weaning sooner rather than later, both because my supply will not respond as well with the pump and also just because it's a pain in the a**. (There's that mommy guilt again. Convenience or comfort for a mom!? How dare you speak of it!) Even if I try exclusively pumping first, it'll probably end with formula by the end because of supply issues-if I can even put up with the set-up and clean-up several times a day and discomfort of the pump itself for an extended period of time. The absolute worst would be to have to transition to formula or even just supplementing with formula instead when he won't even take breastmilk from a bottle. The kid'll probably starve first. This is what I mean about obsessing. <cue hand-wringing> Good grief.

Any commiseration and/or suggestions from the peanut gallery are welcome.

Everything I needed to know, I learned from my kids

So the original intent of this list was to make a serious compilation of things I've learned about parenting and myself through interacting with my kids, marked by introspect and reflection. Y'all know me better than that, so I'll just skip to the list, mmk?  Here goes.

1. Tantrum-throwing will get you what you want-in a HURRY. The more crowded the venue and plentiful the audience-the better and faster the result. Look out though-sometimes the punishment is deferred to after we leave. yikes.

2. Hugs and kisses will get you out of almost any jam. Smiles and hand-holding work good too.

3. Distraction will deflect any potential lash-back from a recently-discovered infraction. Ooh, Look at that! An Airplane, a flower, a bug, you've forgotten to punish me now, right??

4. It's ok to have a stuffed animal as your best friend. They don't take your toys away or push or bite or smother you with attention when you don't want it. They're just right.

5. If I say your name enough times, you'll pay attention to me in the way I want, not in an angry way.This also applies to asking for something. If I ask enough times, you may change your mind or fulfill my request faster. No? That's NOT true?? Well, maybe it'll be true in about 10 seconds. How 'bout now? Mama? Ma..AAAAAAAAARGH!

6. I can play by myself as long as there is an illusion you are playing with me or watching me. When that stops, all bets are off. For example, I can play with playdoh for 45 minutes with not a lot of interaction with you-just sitting at the table with me while paying bills, answering emails, or just trolling FB on your phone. However, as soon as you answer a phone call, I will DEMAND your undivided attention. Immediately. See #5.

7. There is no better sound in the whole wide world than a baby's laugh-except maybe the two year old AND the baby laughing together. Yep, that's better.

8. It's ok to get up at dawn and nap at 8am. Who cares if other people think it's weird. What-EV-er. (said in Colton's two-year-old voice with a gutteral stop on the 't'-cute here, but highly annoying when applied to something I've said to him.)

9. Bugs are yucky, and we don't eat dirt!

10. "Mama, you love me always?" Yes, son. Always.

Follow up to previous post regarding healthy lifestyle

Ok. So. It's been just over 4 weeks since I posted my resolve to manage a healthier lifestyle. I chronicled my food for about a week and half. I had grand visions of being pleasantly surprised by how well I was eating and not having to modify much. Sadly, I was greatly disappointed. I eat really bad food on a regular basis. So much so, I'm embarrassed to post it. Suffice it to say, I should stop eating like this so I don't balloon when I quit nursing. Yikes. I did marginally better on my activity level. I did manage some sort of cardio a couple of days/wk, and yoga twice or three times/ wk. That said, it was done via DVD in my living room and therefore, the quality may be lacking. In addition, I have counted the physical activities I did with Colton on the weekends. Hey-he'd run me ragged if I let him-it most certainly counts!

I have many excuses for my lack of follow thru. These include the work transition was very difficult transition with much new information, the baby won't take a bottle so I was juggling nursing and work at night, the baby won't consistently sleep thru the night so I was operating on only a few hours of sleep most of the time....see told ya. It boils down to the fact that I know I need to change things, but don't really want to give up my precious down time and my sugar addiction.

Taking this into account-I have decided to back off and focus on one area at a time. I will drop the food aspect for now, and I will add physical activity to my routine 5 times/wk. These need to be cardio only-walking, running (HA!), DVD aerobics, etc. Any yoga I am able to squeeze in will be a bonus. Starting in June, Colton goes back to only 3 days/week daycare so I will have some more motivation. He really keeps me moving. Plus, he likes to do yoga with me. He thinks it's fun. He's also been bugging the crap out of me to take him swimming. Does anybody have a pool we can come over and swim in so I don't have to teach him to swim in the chaos of a public pool and I can leave the baby in the shade or inside napping while I do??? <waggling eyebrows, cheshire-cat grin> Anybody?? Bueller??

Ok. Anyhow. Moving on.

Hopefully, this new modification will make this transition livable. Here's to a new start!

As I return to work, I am forced to make the most of my time and energy.  To do that, I need to change some things in my life-namely my 1/3 pkg per day cookie habit.  In an effort to live a healthier lifestyle, I have decided to start a food/exercise journal. I am writing this post to make myself accountable for this committment to my health.

Here is my committment:
I shall be responsible for the choices I make. (no excuses)
I shall be accountible for the choices I make. (no lying or omissions)
I shall celebrate my successes with non-food-related rewards. (no eating a whole pkg of peanut butter cups cuz I worked out for an hour)

Each day, I will chronicle the food I eat and what physical activity I perform.  At the end of the week, I will decide on what reward I am entitled to. If I was really bad, I may reinforce this with increased activity the next week.  I am not really very good at enforcing dietary restrictions such as 'only eat 15 gr of sugar' or '20 gr of carbs' or, worse, 'NO carbs or sugar'.  Yikes!  If you want to see me cranky, restrictions like that are the fast track to that end. Not to mention, those restrictions will force me to quit this resolution post-haste.  At this point, I am only trying to eat less candy/junk.  As I improve, I may restrict certain things, but for now, I am interested in eating balanced meals, better snacks and adding physical activity to my daily routine.  I am not interested in weight loss or muscle tone necessarily although it will probably be a natural consequence.  I hope this will help increase my energy, manage stress and sleep better.  My motivation is not completely selfish either as this will be good for the baby and set a good example for my two year old as well.   I may not be successful every day, but I will take it one day, one meal, at a time and will be honest with my readers and myself.  If any of you would like to join me on this journey, I welcome the company. 

Here's to health!

Chapter 3-bet you thought I forgot about this, didn't you??

Ramey's meeting with her client went about as well as expected.  She delivered the photos, and the client delivered her righteous indignation and tears.  Dealing with people directly was definitely the hardest part of her job.  That even took into account those times she had to chase her marks or, worse, when she was in actual danger while investigating.  After the meeting, she had a few loose ends to tie up with another case she was working and finished up the paperwork on this most recent one.  Ramey was very glad she would not be visiting that motel for a while.  It was so seedy, her skin would crawl without even entering the room. She shuddered thinking about it and rubbed the invisible bugs off her arms. 

On the way home, she stopped off at the bank to deposit the cashier's check she collected at her morning meeting. While she was steadily decreasing the balance of that check against a stack of bills, the phone rang. 

"Ramey, it's James."  Good grief.  "I feel really bad about this morning.  I didn't mean to creep you out.  I hope you know I had the best intentions."

This was the first inkling of insecurity she'd seen from him.  "It's ok, really. It's kind of flattering, if you can disregard the creep factor. Just don't do that again. If you want to see me, just ask."

"Ok. Can I see you again? Soon?"

"That would be ok, I think." She smiled.  "I'd like to see you again too.  I wouldn't want you to think of me as you saw me this morning, anyway-all sweaty."

"Hmm," he purred. "I have a meeting tonight with a firm, but how about tomorrow night, say, 7ish?"

"That's fine with me. I just wrapped up the case I was working on. It would be a nice way to celebrate."

"See you then.  Goodbye, Ramey," and he disconnected. His voice was just as sexy over the phone. There was that warm and tingly feeling again.  She could really get used to this.  The anticipation was lovely and nerve-wracking all at the same time.

She shook off the flush that colored her face and fnished the task at hand.  She was throwing away the invoices and putting away the checkbook when the phone rang again.

"Ramey, it's Ray Samson."  Ray was a good friend of hers who also happened to be on the police force, senior detective, specifically. 

"Ray!  It's good to hear from you.  Is this a social call or a professional one?"

"Well, a little bit of both.  I wish I had more time for pleasantries, but I actually need your help."

"Whatever I can help you with, I'm happy to do it, Ray."

"Great.  I knew I could count on you.  I have a certain business man I need you to keep an eye on for me.  You don't have to do anything but observe and report. I'm sending you a pic of the business man now."

"Aw, Ray.  You always take the fun out of things." She laughed. "Of course I can do that for you." 

"Good. He will be at the Duck and Clam Club tomorrow for happy hour.  I need a visual on who he is meeting there to match a face with an alias.  I think the mark is involved in a case I'm working."

"Sure thing, Ray.  I'll send you what I get."

"Great.  Thanks again, Rame.  Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Ray." She hung up the phone and stared at it like it was a foreign object.  Ray was a very attractive man, and he had been more than a friend at one time.  Neither he nor Ramey could make time for the other, so they eventually stopped expecting each other to be available and stopped asking.  She remembered the way he breathed her name and the smell of his soap and closed her eyes just for a moment.  When she opened them, she was back in her own house, with only the smell of last night's tv dinner and Rotti, who was staring at her with his head cocked to one side.

"Forget it, Rotti.  I've lost my mind completely, I think.  Either that, or I'm getting desperate.  It's time for a nap. Last night is catching up to me." She walked out of the room, shedding clothes as she went.  She was asleep as soon as she hit the pillow.

When she woke, the afternoon was well on its way to evening.  The nap refreshed her, and she decided it was time to take a walk.  She grabbed the leash and she and Rotti set out to see what interesting things they could see and smell.  As she walked, she thought about tomorrow's assignment for Ray.  She wondered who the business man was and who the mark was.  She'd forgotten to check her email for the picture Ray sent.  She put that on her mental to-do list for later.  The rest of the walk was occupied with thoughts of Ray and their previous relationship.  Those thoughts were best confined to very strict daytime parameters. On the way home, she picked up dinner.  She just couldn't stomach tv dinners two nights in a row.

When she finally opened her email, the picture in her inbox almost caused Ramey to choke on her meal.  Those dreamy green eyes she had been lost in were staring at her from the computer screen.  "What the...." she breathed. "Just who are you hanging out with, James?"  She reminded herself he was merely meeting a client.  That's what businessmen do.  Since when did she justify others' behavior.  What was happening to her, Ramey mused.  Well, at least she would have no trouble identifying the businessman in the bar.  When in doubt, humor has always come to her rescue.  This would definitely make her social life more complicated.  She ended the evening torn between remembering the warm fuzzy feelings and trying to figure out why she even bothered trying to have a love life at all.

Reflections on parenting-take 2

Before I gave birth to Lincoln, I was apprehensive about parenting two children at once.  I am an only child and have no idea what to do with more than 1 kid at a time.  The only training I have in my 'toolbox' is my classroom management training. However, that was geared toward middle school and high school students, not infant - pre-K.  Amazingly enough, it has been easier than I thought.  I have learned to work the baby's schedule around my existing schedule for Colton.  So far, it's worked out pretty good.  I have learned a few things along the way in the first two weeks.  Here are some things I'd like to mention, as well as the new knowledge I've accumulated.

1. First and foremost, I'd like to thank everyone for their generosity when it came to helping us acquire clothing for our surprise arrival of a boy instead of a girl.  All of our friends and family have given us so much and have been so supportive-it's incredible!  THANK YOU!

2. In the same vein, there is no possible way to describe the feeling you have when you've just given birth to what you thought was a beautiful baby girl, only to be told he's a bouncing baby boy.  It's a mixture of joy and excitement for a healthy baby and just to be done with pregnancy and on to the next step where you actually get to see that baby, combined with a feeling of confusion, dread and apprehension for the things you now need to purchase and frustration for all the time you spent on prepping for a girl, only to have to re-do it all when you get home.  That is in addition to the responsibility of how to explain the difference to my two-year old.  The months we spent creating a bond with the new baby had to be re-vamped to fit a boy instead of a girl.  He was confused for a while-I even catch myself calling the baby Heidi or referring to him as "her" without thinking.  Yikes.

3. With Colton, I was so concerned with the big picture and sleep training and doing everything correctly.  With Lincoln, I find myself focusing on him, without spending so much time obsessing about details and other things that don't need to come until later.  Part of that is probably due to the fact that I don't have time or energy to focus past the end of the week, but I recognize the difference in my attitude toward the 'baby-ness' of Lincoln vs. Colton.  I am able to enjoy Lincoln's first days a lot more than I did with Colton.  Less pain and discomfort certainly helps too.

4. The best invention ever is Clorox 2. I was able to make it thru the first week with very few outfits that fit because the stains actually came out!  :)  I did not have this knowledge when Colton was small.  Those yellow stains are stubborn!

5. Before I gave birth, I had no idea how I was going to do it all.  I thought I was already at the end of my rope.  Since then, I have found reserves of patience I didn't know I had.  I'm actually proud of myself and what I've been able to accomplish since Lincoln was born.  I'm better at this parenting/wifing thing than I thought.  :)

6. I also had no idea how I would be able to love 2 children.  I was worried I would feel I was neglecting 1 to care for the other. In fact, I feel the opposite.  When I care for 1, I feel like I'm doing well at caring for both.  Each of my kids has a special place in my heart and I try very hard to make it clear to each of them-especially Colton. 

7. Colton has surprised me at how much he has bonded with his baby brother. I was afraid that when the baby turned out to be a boy, and we'd cultivated a relationship with a girl during the pregnancy, he would be confused and not be able to bond with Lincoln.  However, that has most definitely not been the case.  He asks to hold him, treats him gently and is super helpful-handing toys, blankets, pacifiers, etc.  Colton tells others (perfect strangers sometimes), "That's my baby brother!"  It's so cute!  Every time he's so sweet to his brother, my heart swells and I love him even more.

8. This is going to cause some backlash, especially because I was so against it when I had Colton, but I have discovered co-sleeping is not the devil.  When Colton was small, he slept 5 hours at a time-even in the hospital.  There was no getting up to feed him at night because he didn't ask.  Five hours was enough sleep for me.  Lincoln sleeps only 2 or 3 hours at a time.  Therefore, if I can roll over and doze while I nurse him at night, then, I'm all for it.  I, my husband, and Colton are grateful (even if they don't know it) that I can get enough sleep at night, and my infant gets to eat when he wants.  In my defense, I don't do it every night and I DO worry about it--it will only last until he sleeps 4 or 5 hours in a stretch, but maternal sleep is a limited commodity and a necessary one.

9. Each child is so different. Colton has always been an independent child. He never liked swaddling or cuddling.  Lincoln needs contact with me.  He has trouble putting himself to sleep too.  He requires a lot more from me than Colton ever did.  Colton had no trouble adjusting to Daddy helping and holding him, even as an infant.  Lincoln won't have anybody but me.  I wonder if that'll change anytime soon, or if he'll always need me specifically. 

10. There are things about having two kids I don't think I'll ever figure out.  First, is how to handle grocery shopping with both-Colton cannot sit in the basket with the carseat in the seat because he will squish and/or open all my groceries because he's so curious.  I will probably have to take the baby in the front carrier and put Colton in the seat.  Second is how to find time for myself.  I already had trouble with that before I had Lincoln, but when I go back to work, it's going to be downright impossible.  Babysitters cost an arm and a leg and I'm not comfortable leaving an infant with just anyone.  Forget about date night.  That has happened very few times since we had Colton, even. I'm sure there's more things I will have to figure out, but that's all I can think of right now.  This may become its own list in the future.  :)

I have roughly half an hour to eat lunch before Gremlin wakes up, so I should cut this short.  I apologize this list is not as funny as most of my 'reflections'.  Humor has been hard to come by on so little sleep.  I hope the next list will be better.  :)  Happy Monday!