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.

word geek

i run pretty hot & cold when it comes to pursuing photography. i've taken classes, done some reading, messed with photoshop. for whatever reason i get overwhelmed by the technical stuff -- apertures and fast lenses (a fast lens?) and choosing the right ISO and anticipating the need for exposure compensation and... well pretty soon, i just figure why bother. i mean if i'm going to do it i want to do it right -- no cheating by using the auto mode -- and if it's not all exactly right then you get crappy shots. and oh yes, oh yes: for me there have been crappy shots aplenty.

but i persevere. elaine and i are taking an online course on "available light photography." appealing to me for lots of reasons that are not all that exciting so i shan't elaborate. one of the requirements of the course is a light reflector but of course i go into overdrive. which one? how big? silver or gold? there must be a difference or they wouldn't make them in silver and gold so i have to pick the best one!

my googling took me to shutterbug.com. helpful site, actually. but what really got me going, convinced me that i just HAD to keep working at this photography thing, was one little word: chiaroscuro.

what is that, you ask? well, i didn't know either. and i didn't care. i found the word so appealing that i decided i had to learn what it meant and how to apply it. crappy shots be damned! but of course i wouldn't have crappy shots any more once i understood the mystery of chiaroscuro.

word geek. that's me.

oh, and for those who are equally charmed? here you go (courtesy of dictionary.com):

chi·a·ro·scu·ro /kiˌɑrəˈskyʊəroʊ/
–noun, plural -ros.
1. the distribution of light and shade in a picture.
2. Painting. the use of deep variations in and subtle gradations of light and shade, esp. to enhance the delineation of character and for general dramatic effect: Rembrandt is a master of chiaroscuro.

lovely, no?

The fruits of our labor

Hey! Look what we're doing!


Beans
Front patch

Pumpkins

Tomatoes * Sara, pointing out the zucchini

Magnificent women: Elaine #1

I love my aunt. She is funny, normal, nearly deaf, totally no-nonsense and a little kooky. She was probably the person my Mom was closest to on Dad's side of the family, and because they had daughters that were the same age (within two days!) who were best buddies all through childhood, they got to know each other pretty well. Aunt Elaine was there when Mom died, and a few minutes later whispered into my ear "you made her world." I carry that with me to this day, never really believing it's true but selfishly hoping I made her world a little happier.

And she was here, every weekend for I don't remember how long, to help us take care of Dad when things got bad. She sat with him for hours, and helped us watch Sara, and loaned us her car for a month, and always brought kindness and laughter and rest with her -- she somehow came and absorbed up some of the ickiness of life so we didn't have to manage it all by ourselves. She saw how hard it was and didn't judge or henpeck, or tell us what we ought to do; she just jumped in and did and never asked for or expected anything in return.

It's a lot to ask of one person, to fill the void that two have left behind. And though I'll never actually ask that of her I secretly hope for it, for her to remind me who my parents were, and what they would say or do or think about the things that matter in my life.

Lucky me, Aunt Elaine somehow manages to do just that. Not in the easy way that would sound preachy or artificial, but with ease and authenticity. She taught me that baby oil can help get that crusty junk off Sara's face when she has a cold, and treats her like her own grandchild rather than just her neice's daughter. She shows me the things that seasoned moms know but doesn't offer unsolicited advice or patronize me when I seem clueless. I think of her as Sara's Aunt Nonny, and have come so close to asking her if we can call her that but for some reason haven't brought myself to do it. I think it's because I'm afraid she'll think it's silly, or maybe it's because I'm afraid I'll cry. Beats me.

Elaine gets it just right, and she'll never know how much it means to me. Even if I tried to tell her, she would never really know.

Yep, she is definitely one of my favorites.

Mother/Child - Child/Mother

I have nothing new to offer about the many facets of motherhood. That being said, here's my latest "discovery."

I don't know why it is but I can't seem to shake the feeling I had when I was about 18 years old. You know -- feeling very grown up but at the same time being utterly clueless and hopelessly in need of parenting. Maybe that was just me but somehow I imagine it was true of many people to some degree or another.

The thing is, I'm 36 and feeling not nearly grown-up enough and I have no parents. (Maybe this is also true of many people to some degree or another.)

I learn more and more about myself every day that I spend with Sara. There are moments that feel so incredibly familiar and I realize that they evoke some kind of memory or connection that I shared with Mom. It's almost like she's there. Last night Sara threw her arms (those soft, squishy, skinny little toddler arms) around my neck and hugged me so tight and I felt so connected to my mother and my daughter at the same time that there were tears coming down my face that I couldn't have stopped had I wanted them to. But as wonderfully familiar as that moment felt, I'm convinced that I was actually feeling it as my Mom did. And it was... great.

Of course for every great moment there is the opposite. (Of course there is.) Tonight it came when I let both her and me get too tired, too cranky, too sickly-feeling and we both fell apart. She cried and screamed and squirmed (wet in the tub, natch) and I yelled and smacked her hand and immediately felt that nauseating remorse that reminds me that I'mjustthisclose to becoming one of Those People that you see on the 11 o'clock news with a horror story about shaken babies and deadbeat mothers who ought to rot in jail. And no amount of apologizing or consoling or asking her and God for forgiveness can unring that bell. It's icky.

What it all comes down to is this: I'm basically the same poseur I was 16 years ago. I like to play grown-up but the fact of the matter is I still need my Mom. Thing is, I've got this sweet little girl who needs me to be the Mom and I really don't want to blow it.

Time to grow up for real, eh? Yipes. How the heck am I supposed to do that?

Ha-PEEE

Everybody has that thing inside of them that makes them... I don't know. Happy. Or ha-PEEE, as Sara would say. (I think her word is more authentic if you want to know the truth.)

Singing is what makes me happy. I don't do it enough and I miss it. It's that thing that connects with me somehow, that takes words and makes them alive -- not just spoken once and lost forever but living and breathing and moving forever. And it doesn't matter what I'm singing as long as it resonates for me. There is the same joy in a 500-year-old sacred motet as there is in a Dixie Chicks hit from 1998. I love that.

What makes me even happier is that Sara seems to love singing, or at least music, too. If the TV is on she can toddle around for hours paying no attention at all but as soon as there is music she stops dead in her tracks. Rob insists that there there is a music video on CMT (yes people, that is indeed Country Music Television) that mesmerizes her. And lately I have ressurected our tradition of listening to music and singing before she goes to bed at night.

It's the sweetest thing. She can be a terrible crank but as soon as I start the music she settles. Whenever there is a pause between songs she stops and listens, then says in this quiet little voice "moh." Sure enough another song starts and she begins to clap, saying "ha-PEEE, ha-PEEE.'

Oh, Bear. You make your Mama so ha-PEEE too.

My dirty little secret

I passed a mother and her daughter in our waiting room this morning. The child has a syndrome of one sort or another, leaving her distorted and limp and broken in so many ways.

And here's the icky part: As I passed them, I thought to myself "I'm so glad I don't have a child like that."

I hate that. I am ashamed of it. Because I know that as much as I love my daughter, who is bright and strong and beautiful, that mother loves her daughter -- and maybe even more, although I can't imagine how. Then I remember that two of my dearest friends had, and sadly lost, a child who might have been equally "broken," and I cringe to think that I would have felt the same way about her. I don't think I would have. I pray that I wouldn't have. (I hate that I might have.)

My only redemption, small and pitiful as it is, is remembering that when I see these children face-to-face, and I talk with their families and come to understand their lives just a little bit better, that feeling goes away and is fully replaced with compassion. Too many times I have to explain to a mother why yet another piece of her child is broken beyond repair, and that's when I wish I had elected to be a house painter or grocery bagger or any other job that isn't capable of hurting somebody. But then sometimes, when I'm lucky, I get to make a child's life just a little bit better or just a little more hopeful. And that's what makes everything else worth it.

I don't know what I would do if I had a child who was so physically and mentally impaired. I guess in the long run, I would love it and the rest would take care of itself. Still, I hope I never have to find out. God forgive me for not being a stronger person than that.

One mystery solved

Among the vast unknowns about my child, this much is clear:

She twists the top off the Oreo, eats the middle, then asks for "moh!.......... peece."

Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow

So our small but mighty community ("Church of the Living Room," as my brother calls it) came over today to plant the garden. All but the Beans, who were missed, pitched in to rake and dig and plant and water and pray. It was a lovely morning -- cool, sunny, relaxed -- just right all the way around I'd say.

Yes, it was nice not to have to face those 365 square feet on our own, and it was freeing to realize that it wouldn't be perfect (and that's OK). Yes, it was a joy to see the kids eager to help. Yes, it will be a long summer with lots of sweat and work and disappointments and surprises. And yes, it will all be worth it.

It would be easy to lose the lessons in the both the excitement and the trudgery. Now I'm not saying that there's deep meaning in everything we're doing (sometimes a weed is just a weed) but I think if we let it, this is something concrete that we can all latch onto as a starting point for the messier business of God, faith, doubt, learning, growing, trusting, accountability... Not just for the kids, either -- there's opportunity here for all of us to take something out of the experience.

At least I sure hope it works that way.

I'm really proud of us. This is probably the most demanding thing we've asked of ourselves and that's good. We need to demand more of ourselves and this should be a good exercise in discipline and stick-to-itiveness. A good thing for the kids to witness and to be a part of, too.

Rob just came in and said "Church made me so happy today."

Yep, I'd say that about sums it up.