I mean, it MUST be hormones (or something)

Maybe it's the 90 minutes I've spent going through old pictures of family & friends, maybe it's the great conversation we had a church today that reminded me (yet again) that I am so damn lucky to have such a special community, or maybe it's just hormones.

I don't know, but something about this video left me in tears, longing for the pre-Bobby Brown/Dionne Warwick's Psychic Hotline days when big hair and bigger shoulder pads were style achievements, when Luther Vandross (poor Luther) could wear those rhinestone suits and somehow not look ridiculous, and when Stevie was, well... he's always just Stevie. I was so young then. So much has changed. I wouldn't trade any of it away, but sometimes I'd just like to go back to that mid-80s me and let myself know that time flies. Don't waste a minute of it -- it's gone in a blink.

Mee-voh

This is how Sara says "evil," and it is probably what saved me (her) tonight.

Well, evil itself didn't save us -- that would just be wrong, don't you think? Really it was the act of her saying it, in that adorably wrong way, that did it for me (her). Kind of like she says "Noh My-Kuh" for John Michael and "Tayes" for Hayes and "An-see PANTS" for Aunt Nancy, which my sister hates but I think is fantastic. It's just sweet, you know?

But really nothing else has been sweet lately. The Mama Well of Patience is running perilously close to dry these days. I am tired of fighting every time she needs her diaper changed, every time she needs to get out of the tub, and every time I need to clean up her tray. I am tired of her bolting for her room and crawling under her crib so I can't reach her. I am tired of wearing oatmeal, finding half-eaten and rotting apples rolling around under my seat in the car, and scraping purple crayon off her tongue for the 80-zillionth time. I am tired of getting drenched every time I give her a bath. I am tired of getting hit in the head because she hasn't got the communication skills to explain why the hell she's so mad.

I guess what I'm saying here is that I am tired.

Now, five years ago if I had come across a blog post like this one, written by some woman who was lucky enough to have found someone she wanted to marry (and married him), had a healthy, happy child, and a roof over her head to call her own -- well, I would have wanted to kill her. I mean, come on -- GET A GRIP ALREADY. It's life! It's motherhood! This is what you sign up for!

But still, I am tired.

And even when I think back to this time a year ago when things with Dad got impossibly hard and all I wanted was to be out from under it? Yes, I am quick to remind myself that this is certainly much better than that. This is what I was waiting for, right?

Yes. And even so -- I am tired.

Don't get me wrong. I love my daughter, and most of the time (OK, some of the time, usually) I love being her mother. I love watching her jump and march and gallop around, listening to her mimic everything she hears, seeing the lightbulb come on when she learns something new. I love seeing pieces of me, and Rob, and my mom in the way she moves or thinks or holds her mouth. I love all of that. And I am all too well aware of how very little time there really is to spend with her and I refuse (refuse!) to wish away a single second of it. What I wouldn't give for one more second with my mom. (Nothing. There is nothing I wouldn't give.)

But that doesn't mean I have to actually like every second. Or that I can't be tired. Right?

Deliver me from mee-voh, Lord. And if You could throw in an extra dose of patience that would be great.

Growing up at 36

Just finished updating my resume. Spent, I don't know... maybe 45 minutes or so, mostly on formatting but also on adding, deleting, general tweaking. It looks good, I think.

Then I realized that now is the time that I would show it to Dad, to get his opinion. I'd listen to some of it, discard a good deal of it -- he was so out of step, I assumed, and his government background seemed so foreign to my healthcare experience. Still, I always wanted to hear what he thought. (Read: I always wanted to hear his praise.)

I've decided I'm not going to run it past anybody this time around. Dad's gone; time to grow up. It's a strangely big deal to me.

To market (or, the other way around)

Seriously considering this.

Mind purge

Barium is really kinda hard to get out of your clothes.

I love having finished my filing. I mean really, I LOVE it.

But why are there still so many stacks on the desk? Hmmmm.

Rob is a hard person to shop for.

Strollers:Starbucks Orange Mochas::Blenders:Frozen Margaritas

I am really enjoying the Orange Mochas these days.

Good walking weather. Nice stroll through the Village yesterday. Actually, just a nice day in general yesterday.

Sometimes, when I look at Sara, I swear I am going to burst. I love her that much.

Sometimes, when I look at Sara, I swear I am going to go to prison, she drives me that crazy.

Mostly though, I love her.

I hate clutter.

There is so much clutter.

We have great neighbors. And I think Oscar is a great playmate for the Bear. Just the right speed.

I have my dishes back. Now I have to unpack them. (sigh)

Thrify Threads is sooo cleaning up with our house purge. I love it.

My love my friends (you know who you are -- and yes, I mean you).

So tired. Off to bed. Perhaps some Tylenol PM...

Dove (no, not the bar)

Although that does sound good right about now. Who am I kidding. When doesn't a Dove bar sound good.

But I digress. I realize I'm not hawking anything new here, but I just checked out the Dove campaignforrealbeauty website and I have to say, I'm impressed. There seem to be lots of resources there -- and most of them not even really "beauty" related, from what I can see. Check out their two short films, too. Scary. Makes me want to ban all forms of media from the house until Sara is about 40. Cause you know, I'm not going to let her even think about leaving til she's at least 40.

Only 40 minutes til this season's second episode of Ugly Betty. I can't wait!

I will no longer be ashamed

So help me, I love this show.

Parental nirvana (fleeting)

So, here is our typical lunchtime exchange:

Sara, are you ready to eat?
Sara gives me a wild-eyed look then makes a break for it. She is still convinced that I won't find her behind the chair, even though I saw her run there.
Sara, come on.
Still behind the chair
[Crossing the room] I'm not going to chase you.
Peeks but still isn't moving.
[Chasing her] Come here.
Keeps her back to the chair and edges to the other side.
[Still chasing her] Sara. Come HERE. I'm NOT chasing you.



So, you get the idea. Eventually she tires of this, begins squealing like some sort of "she-devil," as my sister likes to say, and makes for the dining room. Or the kitchen, or the bathroom, or somewhere. But at least she's not behind the chair anymore, right?

But then today, out of nowhere, It happened: Perfect Behavior.



Sara, are you ready to eat?
She stops what she is doing and looks at me. "Buckets."
[Bracing myself for the chase] No, you don't need your buckets.
She begins stacking all of her buckets, without a single one out of order. She then picks them up and puts them in the big bucket. The lid goes on too. This is all done quickly and quietly. What?!?
Good girl! Let's go eat.
"Beads." She picks up a string of snap-together beads and drops them into a basket. Then she picks up a recorder and puts it into another basket. It rolls out. She tries again. It rolls out again. "Help?"
[I stand slack-jawed. There is a pause before I realize that she has asked me to help her clean up one of her toys.] Help? Yes, yes! I'll help! Let's put it here. Good JOB Sara B! What a BIG GIRL!
She doesn't respond, as she is busy tidying up her overflowing basket of books. Only when she is done does she turn toward the dining room and joyfully cry "Eat!"


OK, so I have no idea what happened. It's like the girl crawled inside my brain, looked up "perfect child," and said to herself -- what the hey? I'll throw the old girl a bone.

After lunch we went upstairs to put on dry pants (hers, not mine). She made a beeline for her crib, which she crawled under and wouldn't vacate until I laid my head down on the changing table for a quick cat-nap. Then she promptly grabbed up every bink and held them behind her back until I pried them out of her sticky little hands. This was followed by loud, long, piercing wails of "BIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNK!!!" that only let up when I put her up on the table for the aforementioned diaper change, and were promptly replaced with kicking and screaming and body contortions that I can only fantasize about. A not-so-gentle reminder, I suppose, that her whims are indeed fleeting.

The ride goes on...

A love affair begins

I share this with a mix of excitement and apprehension:

I have discovered Mod Podge. And I am smitten.

It took me 36 years to get there, but I had my first Podge experience this weekend. I have a little work to do, for expert Podging takes both patience and practice, but I must say that I did an awfully nice job for a beginner. And what, pray tell, did I so lovingly glaze with this magical gluey goo?






Yes, my planner. Long-awaited, long-desired. I'm just too cheap to pay $50, $60, or $70+ for a planner that only sort of meets my needs. Yes, some are beautiful -- just not very helpful. Others are terrific for organizing -- but aesthetically left me wanting, well, something else entirely. And so after a few failed layouts, several fights with Excel, and way too many hours on my laptop, I came up with the perfect planner for me. (And maybe you, too.)

But then, it occurred to me, the fun wasn't over! I still got to make it as pretty as I wanted it to be! The paper! The embellishments! THE PODGE!

A labor of love, to be sure.

There are kinks to work out, processes to streamline, ideas to consider, and Podge to master, but I do believe this is not the last planner for me. Different sizes? Sure! Layouts? Why not?! Customizable? Of course!! I can hardly sleep, just thinking about it...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Rumor has it that, back in the day, my mom was a mad-Podgger. She Podged it all. My brother came over one day, shortly after I bought it but before I had worked up the nerve to open it, and said "what are you doing with that???" I told him, but all he could do was shake his head and mumble something about Mom, and decoupage, and anything that wasn't nailed down...

The tradition continues.

Week two: Ahh-Daaahn!

The second edition of Vegetarian Wednesday has been put to bed. Still no veggies before dinner but all in all a good day. And I made a ROCKING soup tonight. Freaky good. It was the full-fat version though, so it definitely needs to tweaking. (I know, I know -- it was 85 outside today. So sue me. I got excited by that cold snap last weekend and couldn't get soup off of my brain all week.)

I'm a little disappointed at how easy it has been to go meat-free. Maybe if I tried for two days a week I'd suffer more. Yeah, well. No need for suffering right now. But I'll keep it in mind.

For your viewing pleasure

Just a couple of the bear. (I love her so.)

(whistle.......) Ka-pow

So, yeah. I did it. It was all me, all my fault, no getting around it.

Sara's first F-bomb.

It flew out of my mouth after a series of unfortunate events -- not that this excuses anything. But the last straw was when I cracked my head - CRACKED IT HARD - on a dresser trying to retreive a diaper for my wet, wiggly, cranky baby. And that's when in happened: "Ah, f*@&." The saddest part is, I meant it. It really, really hurt.

A beat of time passed; I thought maybe, just maybe, I would skate through. Maybe, just this ONE TIME, she would miss something.

Not so much. Standing there naked and wet, looking at me with all seriousness she spoke the unspeakable.

"Ah... F*@&!."

That was a feel-good moment, let me tell you. My mother would be so proud.

Veg out!

My first Vegetarian Wednesday. I would say that I rock but really it wasn't that hard. Plus, I didn't eat an actual vegetable until about 7:00 tonight.

But still, this is noteworthy. I am, after all, the daughter of a farmboy who brought his love of all things meat and fried -- and preferably, fried meat -- into our lives forevermore.

Next week I'll shoot for vegetables before 5:00pm. Seems a doable goal, don't you think?

here's another

"dream big," by ryan shupe and the rubberband (no kidding). i wish sara would dream big right now... the kid really needs a nap.

it might take a minute to load, but you can check out the video here.



"dream big"

When you cry be sure to dry your eyes,
cause better days are sure to come.
And when you smile be sure to smile wide,
and don't let them know that they have won.
And when you walk, walk with pride,
don't show the hurt inside, because the pain will soon be gone.

Chorus
And when you dream, dream big,
As big as the ocean blue.
Cause when you dream it might come true.
So When you dream, dream big.

And when you laugh be sure to laugh out loud,
cause it will carry all your cares away.
And when you see, see the beauty
all around and in yourself, it will help you feel okay.
And when you pray, pray for strength
to help to carry on when the troubles come your way.

Chorus

And when you laugh be sure to laugh out loud,
'cause it will carry all your cares away.
And when you see, see the beauty
all around and in yourself, and it will help you feel okay.
And when you pray, pray for strength
to help to carry on when the troubles come your way.

Chorus 2x

india.arie

i have started collecting songs for sara. here is one of them. i think i'll post more from time to time. and no, india.arie is not my usual cup of tea. but then again i'm not usually one for tea to begin with. but i like it -- it makes my head bounce.

you can see an acoustic version here, via the vh1 website.


"There's Hope"

Back when I had a little
I thought that I needed a lot
A little was over rated,
but a lot was a little too complicated
You see-Zero didn't satisfy me
A million didn't make me happy
That's when I learned a lesson
That it's all about your perception
Hey-are you a pauper or a superstar
So you act, so you feel, so you are
It ain't about the size of your car
It's about the size of the faith in your heart

[Chorus:]
There's hope
It doesn't cost a thing to smile
You don't have to pay to laugh
You better thank God for that

Off in the back country of Brazil
I met a young brother that made me feel
That I could accomplish anything
You see just like me he wanted to sing
He had no windows and no doors
He lived a simple life and was extremely poor
On top of all of that he had no eye sight,
but that didn't keep him from seein' the light
He said, what's it like in the USA,
and all I did was complain
He said-livin' here is paradise
He taught me paradise is in your mind

You know that
There's hope
It doesn't cost a thing to smile
You don't have to pay to laugh
You better thank God for that

It's 11 o'clock. Do you know where your --

--wait a minute. That doesn't make sense.

It is 11 o'clock. 11:57 to be exact. And I would give just about anything to be asleep right now but that is not the case. So, I blog.

(When did "blog" become a verb? Odd.)

Every now and then I go back and re-read my blog entries. I don't know if that makes me weird or not. Sometimes I cringe, most times I wonder why anyone would bother reading them in the first place.

Tonight I read back through the first of the year, when Dad started to fail so quickly, and I can't believe that it's over. I remember feeling at the time that it would never be over, and experiencing the guilt that came along with knowing what the cost of "relief" would be. The work and the grief of those times was all-encompassing and seemed to stretch both forward and back in time, like that was how life always was and would be. I remember believing -- really, truly believing -- that there would never be an end, that life would reside in that hard, relentless place forever. It was awful.

So yes, the last three years really have been tremendously hard; I would wish them on no one. I'm (mostly) proud of what we did for my parents and while hindsight can allow me to wish that we would have done more, I'm really not sure that we could have. We did our best and we loved them, and there isn't much more to offer after that. There are still images of these times that are burned in my head and my heart that I wish would go away. I don't think they ever will. But it's getting so much easier to call up the pictures of them when they were younger and stronger and smiling, and I'm glad about that.

These days we seem so caught up in getting, well -- caught up. We're three years behind so there's a lot of catching up to do. It's tiring and while sometimes there are little victories it doesn't feel all that fulfilling. I don't want to look back in 10 years and not be able to remember what Sara was doing this summer because I was too busy cleaning out closets and painting bedrooms and trying to figure out how to have a life.

So, I guess that's the upside to the blog: it will do the remembering for me. Wonder what I'll be reading about then? I better get to work being more interesting. Now that would be an undertaking. It makes me tired just thinking about it.

12:16. Monday morning. Patients to see in just 8 hours. Then what? Guess I'll have to check back in 10 years and find out...

Success, redefined

Used to be I thought about success in terms of money or status or influence, things like that. My oh my how times have changed.

I would call today a successful day. Here's why:


I didn't run out of shampoo in the shower.

I got to sit at the table and enjoy my coffee for five minutes before I left for work.

I made it to work before the first patient arrived.

I completed three of seven items on my work to-do list.

I squeezed in an inconvenient errand on the way home from work.

I got home in time to have lunch before 2:00pm.

Sara and I went to the post office and she didn't try to grab an envelope, label, pen, stamp or package even once.

After that we made a super-brief stop (because success starts with reasonable expectations) at Cord and I only had to say "no" 6-8 times. Seriously -- that's big.

I decided to go for it and tagged a grocery trip on to the end of this little outing. Only one brief skirmish, with a major meltdown averted by introducing the fine art of paper ripping. Good times, Mama! Thank God for the grocery circular left in the cart.

Sara went for toddler-of-the-year and sat contentedly in her car seat while I unloaded the car. Thank God for Baby Einstein.

--Yes folks, you read it right: this was an entire afternoon of errands with no major fallout. HUGE!--

The Bear spent an hour or so entertaining herself in her room while I worked in the kitchen. No broken toys or bones. Thank God for Elmo.

I got to make dinner & start another meal for later this week without the customary weeping, wailing, and begging for attention that usually accompanies week-night meal prep. What?!?!

Ah, yes Sara was indeed completely naked when I went back to retrieve her. Every toy, book, item in the dirty clothes basket, her diaper, and small article of clothing she could pry out of the dresser was strewn throughout the room. Clean up was only marginally unpleasant. Thank God, it's a small room.

Also of note: No pee or poo on the floor. (Naked, remember?) Big girl, Sara B! Thank God she had already pooed today.

Dinner was served and Sara and I actually started & finished together. I even got to do the dishes, make a plate for Papa, and put the leftovers away while she waited patiently in her chair. Get out!!!

We breezed through bathtime and didn't scream through the diaper/pajama dance.

Lots of hugs before bed.

Minimal screwing around in bed.

Mama was in her jams and off duty by 8:00.

Success indeed.

But boy are we gonna be screwed tomorrow...

The face that launched a thousand JPEGs

I added a few more vacation pictures of my favorite 19-month-old over at her blog.

(Of course I did.)

Good times were had by all

We made a safe return home from one of the more enjoyable trips I've taken in a long, long time. Oregon? Well, it's beautiful. Rob and I are already talking about our next trip out there. Really a beautiful place, with deserts and mountains and coastline, not to mention plenty of roadside berry farmers selling their fabulous fruits. Lots of wineries, too, if you like that sort of thing (I wish we did but, alas, not so much). And friendly people to boot. We loved it.

Here are just a very few of the many many (many) pictures I took. Can't wait to go back.



The Pacific coast, near Cannon Beach in OR




Nana, Gramp, and the Bear. I think maybe they were having a good time.




Papa and the Bear conquer the Pacific. (It was the first visit for both of them.)




Happy girl, enjoying the rose garden in Portland's amazing Washington Park.




Sandy baby = good times were had by all.

what's new

so i have thought about posting a few times but never seemed to have anything to say. maybe this isn't all that interesting, but it's what's happening at 6249 these days:

• took a van load of hats, coats, and dresses to the vintage store. sold about 10% of it. oh, well. at this point the value to me is not in the money made but the space freed. let me tell you -- i am ALL about the liberation of space around here.

• bought a new minivan. no more pre-commute tire refills, grinding brakes, leaking washer fluid resevoirs, broken hatch levers... you name it, we battled it. now we just have to get rid of the thing.

• pulled up carpet in the dining room. good times. well, good times for rob -- i was outside with sara, playing in the sprinkler.

• wading through some changes at work. was approached about taking on some new responsibilities, which i'll be assuming at the end of the month. now i'm wondering if i want to consider taking it another step. lots of factors at play: money (duh), time lost to the job, time taken from home, the fallout (good and/or bad) for rob. i have more thinking to do and some proposals to make. we'll see. it could be good. it could be nothing. time will tell.

• been watching the garden go crazy. we had our first fruits last night: green beans. mmm-mmm-good! i'm hoping i don't miss the first tomatoes, but will get over it if i do. (but i really hope i don't.)

• the architect comes tomorrow. i am feeling both excitement and anxiety... the house is SUCH a disaster, i fear he's going to look at us and say "are you kidding me?" plus, it's a mess and i hate having people see our mess. but there's not much i can do about it at this point, right?

• will be leaving for the great northwest in a couple of days. i'm sure it will be fun and exhausting and stressful and relaxing. i've never been to this part of the country and expect it to be beautiful. (the four days at the resort/spa doesn't hurt, either.) i remember making our flight reservations one afternoon last winter, sitting with dad while he slept in his bed. it was during the big winter storm, i think. it seemed like a long time to wait back then, but now it seems like a blink.

life has changed a lot since then, no? good change and bad. wish we could have had the good without the bad, but things seldom work out that way.

man, do i miss them.