At Home With Me

Day Four of Thirty Days of Truth - Something I Have to Forgive Someone Else For

2010-11-04T21:07:00.003-04:00

I have been thinking of this one all day. I have to say, I have not come up with one thing that I need to forgive. Of all the times that I have been hurt, I have understood the rationale or the circumstance. Of all the times I have been angry, usually the anger has been my problem. It's not to say that I forgive and forget. No, I may never forget (getting dumped the night of the prom?) because forgiveness and not being bitter or wary are two different things. For instance, I confronted a friend in a lie one time. Once my anger wore off, I had forgiven her but I have not been so trusting of her since. Two different things.

And then there are the times that someone I love has been hurt. I can't seem to forgive some of these wrongs but at the same time, they are not my wrongs to forgive.

Finally, some transgressions are just so terrible, they are undeserving of forgiveness and should never be forgiven.

Day Three of Thirty Days of Truth - Something I Have to Forgive Myself For

2010-11-03T21:56:00.003-04:00

When my husband and I are asked how we met, I always laugh first before launching into the story. There's the short version, "Oh, he was trying to date my roommate but..." And there's the longer one, the one that you have heard. (Really, it's a nice story so go ahead and read it.) I have no regrets about what began with that Irish coffee but I have always felt terrible that "Christopher" had to get hurt in the process. I am not proud that these two relationships had some overlap and that because I wasn't being honest with myself, I could never have been honest with Christopher. He was a great guy and deserved better treatment. Causing him pain was the most difficult thing I have done and I wish I could have handled the situation better. I don't know how I would have done things differently or how I could have hurt him less. The outcome would have been the same for which I am most grateful. I don't need him to forgive me, I only need to forgive myself or let it go. Is that the same thing? A caterpillar does not consider a less complicated or less painful way to morph into a butterfly. He simply finds a sturdy twig and makes a chrysalis. What happens inside that small chamber is doubtfully easy and often does not end well. But when it does, something beautiful emerges. He doesn't ask for forgiveness nor does he get to choose the process. He begins again as something new. When "Luke" knocked on my door that night, I knew a change in my life could no longer be denied. How could I not forgive myself the process when something so beautiful came of it?

Day Two of Thirty Days of Truth - Something I Love About Myself

2010-11-02T19:48:00.004-04:00

I'd love to say that it is my witty charm that is my greatest asset. I love to say that I am a beautiful person with nary a mean thought for anyone. I'd love to say that my hair is my crowning glory and the envy of all my friends, but um, no. This is a post of truth and heartfelt honesty. So while I am in fact, quite witty and charming, that is not the feature I most love about myself.

I love that I am a compassionate person. I buy the homeless man on the corner a sandwich when I stop at the burger joint. I help friends with meals, laundry or child care whenever needed. I give complete strangers jump starts or wait with them for help to come. I volunteer my expertise at the kid's school and in my community. I offer these things and never feel that I am doing too much. I try to do anything I can to help someone who needs it. Don't be fooled though. I am no saint. My compassion is selfish simply because it causes me physical pain to see someone else in pain. I cry when others cry. I can't bear it and I want to reach out and do whatever it takes to remove that pain.

Sometimes, it gets me in trouble. There was the lady that we let into our apartment one night because she said someone was trying to hurt her. She had actually escaped from the mental health facility down the road so the police thanked us, apologized and recommended we don't do that again. Sometimes, I simply get taken advantage of like the time(s) I mysteriously found myself baby sitting without ever having been asked. And sometimes, I end up with homeless kittens in my bathroom needing expensive food and vet care. And baths.

I love that I would do all those things again, because that is who I am. Now if you will excuse me, I have some kittens to feed.

Come on, you know you want to:
Day 01 Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Come Back Home with 30 Days of Truth

2010-11-01T22:03:00.003-04:00

Well why not? I haven't posted in over a year so November 1st seems like a good day as any to start a comeback. And with the meme theme of 30 Days of Truth, it may be time to be honest with you and myself about a few things. Even more fitting - today's theme is: What I Hate About Myself. Easy. So let's dispense with what I have been up to since last October and blah, blah, blah (and no, I did not go and have a baby) and get on with the matter at hand.

Day One of Thirty Days of Truth - Something I Hate About Myself

This blog is a prime example: I am all ideas with a huge lack of follow through. There you have it. I have plans, goals and a list of things that must be done. But I just don't get them done. Why is that? I can blame the kids, the laundry, the driving, the cooking and all the other chores but the fact of the matter is, I am missing the gene that carries motivation. Clearly. Oh it's not like my kids are running around naked in filth (all the time, that is). I do get my most basic chores accomplished but usually because there is a deadline or some undesirable consequence. Must get kids to school, must get underwear washed, must buy groceries, must pay bills... You get the idea. But those other things that I want to do? They often just don't happen. I can make the time. I often just don't. Or I allow myself to get distracted by other things I think I need or want to do more.

To put it simply, I am lazy. And I am so frustrated with myself for that. (Ouch, it hurts me to read that in black and white.)

So what do you hate about yourself? Play along with us. Marty has a great explanation here and now that I remember how to even access my blog, I'll be attempting to pour out the honesty daily. If I can get over my lazy self, of course.

Confessions of a Baby Hogger

2009-10-11T20:03:00.002-04:00

I used to tease my sister about this but now I get it. I see them everywhere I go and I just can’t help myself. They stop me in my tracks with their big eyes and gummy grins. I want to say “hello” and make them smile. I resist the urge to sniff their heads. I eagerly wait for an opportunity to hold them and it pains me to return them to their rightful parents. Those yummy, yummy babies.

Last week, I was able to visit with a friend and her newborn. I soaked in the feeling of his little head right in the crook of my neck and the weight of his infant self in my arms. As I was holding him so that he could look around, he turned his huge bright eyes onto me and smiled – a sweet gooey beam as if I were the best idea he’d ever seen. Tears sprang to my eyes and I felt a sharp pain in my right side as I spontaneously ovulated. I was overcome with the desire to have another baby and experience this all again.

Pregnant bellies elicit a similar response. I seem to be surrounded by the blossoming of early motherhood and it’s bittersweet. I wish to hold my hand where I might feel the baby kick. Instead I ask the mother how she is feeling and if she is sleeping well. I let her go ahead of me in line at the store or in the restroom. I try not to be one of those interested but annoying strangers that patronized me when I was pregnant. I saw a mother the other day at the museum. She was largely pregnant and trying to keep up with a toddler. She was walking in that way that made me know she was close to her due date – I could sense the heaviness of the baby on her bladder and the pressure on her cervix. I suddenly had to pee as if my own bladder were empathizing. So strong and familiar was that memory.

I feel like an old woman watching these younger mothers just starting out. I am a seasoned veteran. I am experienced in the arts of baby soothing, public nursing and acrobatic diaper changing. I can interpret the cries of even a stranger’s baby and tell if that child is hungry or just over-stimulated. I have all these skills that I no longer need.

There is no way to fully prepare for parenthood. So much of it, we learn along the way. We become the mothers our children need – a role that is multi-faceted and constantly changing. I can’t claim to know everything and the skills I need right now have yet to be learned. But what do I do with those skills for which I no longer have use? How do I upgrade “Advanced Baby Wearing” to "Remedial Tween Parenting"?

I didn’t expect the closing of the baby chapter to be so difficult. During my third and decidedly final c-section, I consented to a tubal ligation. I wanted family planning to be over and not to be tempted by a fourth pregnancy (which would be riskier for me given my history). Everything about Logan’s birth was relaxed and absolute. I savored each moment with him, instead of worrying if what I was doing were right. He was my third and my last baby and experience had already taught me how fleeting it would be.

I do know that I never want to be pregnant again, that my three boys are more than I can handle and that someday, there will be sleep again. I have many reasons not to expand my family. But those wistful pangs of baby newness are difficult to ignore. The days of containable children are over for me. The ease of being able to calm an upset infant with warm milk and a song is only memory. The joy of those first grins and coos pulled out as a “Hail Mary pass” by a young one after five weeks of not allowing me to sleep more than fifty minutes in a row is replaced by Big Kid delights. There is preschool, the transfer from diapers to “funderwear” and meaningful conversation. There is no baby in my future and babyhood is past.

“I’m addicted to babies,” a friend says to me. She wants to get pregnant with a fifth child. “You’re crazy!” I tell her. But secretly, I understand. “So borrow someone else’s baby for a day,” I tease. “No, their heads don’t smell the same. I only like the way mine smell.” I think to myself, I know. I know.

I'm That Mom

2009-07-01T08:52:00.002-04:00

You know that mom you see in Target wrestling with a toddler to keep him in the cart and hissing at her other kids through clenched teeth, "This is why I never take you anywhere?" Before you judge her, please come read my comeback post over at Triangle Mamas.

Is Susie Home?

2009-06-29T12:39:00.003-04:00

It seems the longer I go without posting, the harder it becomes to create one.

When I was younger and kept a diary, I’d often start entries with, “Dear Diary, I am sorry it has been so long since I have last written.” I would then go on to explain what I have been up to so that Dear Diary might understand why I had been so neglectful.

I used the same tactic with my pen pal. Usually, months would pass between receiving and returning a letter. I would start each letter with “Dear Pen Pal, I’m sorry it has been so long since I have last written.” I would then go on to explain everything I had been too busy with so that Dear Pen Pal might understand why I had been so neglectful.

I suppose I could do that here. “Dear Blog Reader, I’m sorry…” But to write about all the minutiae of my life for the last month seems like old news, even to me. Blogging has been the one thing that I have not taken the time to do during this time. Suffice to say, I have been living my life and drafting posts only in my head. It’s easier to post there anyway. Writing is a simple task where words flow freely. Seems to happen best while I am in the shower or behind the wheel. Once I have pen or laptop in hand, however, my world becomes riddled with doubt and interruptions.

Actually, that last statement is true about anything I have tried to accomplish lately. The other day, it took me over thirty minutes to start a load of laundry thanks to the presence of young children. I once told my husband that it would be easier to be a stay-at-home-mom if I didn’t have children. I suppose the same could be said for mommy blogging.

In some research on back-yard chicken keeping, I came upon a blogger who referred to herself as the Blurt Blogger (I tried to create a link but now it is password protected) as she tends to blog in a few posts at a time with several weeks in between “blurts.” One of her posts was titled, “Too Busy Living Life to Blog About It.” I thought that title was a pretty adequate summary to my own life.

So if there are any readers out there who haven’t given up on me, let me bring you up to speed:

1. The boys finished school and are in the middle of their incredibly short summer break. By the time I get into a manageable summer routine, they will be back in school – in two weeks to be exact. My best method of coping is to simply Just.Stay.Out.Of.The.House. And while I don’t like to be the type of parent who overbooks her kids, they seem to do much better with less downtime. I often feel guilty about not liking being home with them but there are some factors that make me lose my mind hanging around the house. For one thing, they are just not the type of kids to just go play independently. And if they are, it’s probably not GOOD. Secondly, getting anything accomplished is an infuriating chore (see laundry story above). When trying to get a business email out the other day, I found myself begging Jess to just give me five whole minutes without bellowing my name. Third, if I am in my house, I have an uncontrollable urge to try and keep it clean which you know what an unsatisfying task that can be with kids home. And after the third time of cleaning up the kitchen before lunch, I realize that I won’t need to clean it again if no one uses it. So we leave – for my own sanity.
2. I have decided to start my own chicken flock for reasons that I can’t explain. I’ve just always wanted chickens and so my husband gave me some for my birthday. This new endeavor has required much library and Internet research to learn about the differences in breeds, poultry health-care, housing requirements, etc. Not to mention the actual hands-on care of baby chicks is rather intensive.
3. I have spent a lot of time in the yard cleaning and rearranging my garden. Everything was doing quite well until this past week. Never before has our garden been hit by so many different pests in one season. Aphids, Japanese beetles, squash bugs, squash vine borers, some fuzzy white insect that I don’t know its name, fungi and deer (by God the deer) have decimated everything. Everything I tell you!
4. Each of my children seems to be coping with some sort of regression. Dean is afraid to go outside because of the flying insects. He believes that he is their number one target (he even has nightmares about them) and I hope this phase passes soon. Jess is stalking me, not letting me out of his sight for half a minute. If I leave the room or walk outside to check on the chicks, within seconds he is calling “MOOOOOOOOM?!” If I had a nickel for every time he has yelled for me… And Logan seems to wake up more at night now than he did as a newborn. We all wake up tired.
5. I am trying to jump-start my business but as a standby, I have been applying for jobs. Since my resume was part of the data that was lost (along with years of pictures) from my computer, I had to rewrite it. This is apparently not the best economy to be looking for a job in health/human services, no matter how awesome I think I am.
6. Can you still call it Spring Cleaning if you have been cleaning for months and now it’s summer? I have been clearing out, reorganizing, moving and shuffling stuff in a way that makes more sense for our needs. This also includes making trips to the thrift store to donate our cast-offs and then shopping for more stuff to organize the stuff that we are keeping.
7. Finally, I am trying to make more time for myself. Reading, taking pictures, gardening, baking and planning sewing projects. I usually only have a moment or two at a time, but I think the desire is a start.

So now you understand why I have been so neglectful. Happy Summer everyone. May your days be filled with bubbles and your evenings with fireflies.

Official Food, Inc. Movie Site - Hungry For Change? - Sign the Petition

2009-06-12T09:11:00.001-04:00

Official Food, Inc. Movie Site - Hungry For Change? - Sign the Petition

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The Silver LIning

2009-05-07T12:00:00.002-04:00

A friend who is raising a daughter was recently telling me that the one thing she is missing about not having a son is the protectiveness that boys have for their mothers. Since I have no daughters, I can’t say if girls share this tendency or not. But I can attest to my own nine-and-a-half year old. I can always count on Dean to come to my aid and take my side – I don’t even have to ask.

Last week was a prime example. Dean was a witness to our marital storm and knew that I was upset with Luke. When I decided to put aside the argument and left the room, Dean followed me to make sure I was all right. I felt the need to reassure him that parents often disagree - that people who love each other will get angry, discuss their feelings and then make up. The important thing is to be respectful and never lose sight of how much you love one another. He patted me on the shoulder, assuring me that I was right and Dad was wrong. I may have giggled when I forced myself to say, “Well, that isn’t always true.”

A few moments later, I found this note waiting for me. Dean watched me expectantly as I read it. “It’s from Daddy,” he tried to tell me.

When I looked back at him, tears of gratitude in my eyes, he admitted, “OK, it’s really from me. And if I had more time, I would have made Dad one too and said it was from you.”

It’s a true gift to find comfort and nurturing from my own child. Dean certainly brought me beauty after the ugliness, the silver lining to the day’s dark clouds. May love always give you shelter from the storm.

We Weather It Together

2009-05-04T12:25:00.002-04:00

Marriage is much like the weather. Most of the time, temperatures are comfortable with sunny skies and warm breezes. Occasionally there are storms, like the short refreshing ones that come and go quickly on a summer’s evening. While sometimes unpleasant, they harmlessly water the plants and clear the air from the heat of the day. Other times, the storms build up ominously over time and when you see the dark clouds and hear the warning rumbling, you know you need to secure the windows and test the flashlights. Even the best of relationships have to weather such ugliness – mine is no exception.

With the way that I censor myself here, it would be easy for you to think of my husband as a perfect, coffee-bearing gentleman who supports me unfailingly. And that is almost always true – except for when it’s not. He is my biggest fan but also my harshest critic. His words can make or break my self-esteem most easily. And let’s be honest here, sometimes men do not do criticism in the most constructive fashion. Last weekend, conditions were most favorable for sever weather.

The signs had been there all week, with a flippant comment here and some passive aggression there… storms clouds were looming all around our house. Despite the distant grumble of thunder and other warnings, I was still taken aback by the harsh wind and icy hail. Luke’s advancing cold front met with my area of low pressure and an atypical storm ensued. Luke let loose all his frustrations in a tornado of accusations aimed directly at me. At first, I tried to find reason in what he was saying, and then I realized there was no space in his rant for rationality. I put up my hand and walked away from the argument, post-poning the resolution and violating one of our fundamental “Fighting Rules.”*

That evening, when the storm clouds had cleared and we had given each other some space, everything still felt a little off. Feeling exactly like the air right after a storm, electrified from all the lightning and the light still a little green from the cloud cover, things were calmer but not finished. Nothing felt resolved and I felt betrayed. His criticisms tore at all my own insecurities of not being good enough, of not doing enough, not being enough. That night, I went to bed still angry (another “Fighting Rules” violation), still trying to make sense of the source of the fight. It’s taken just about the whole week to survey the damage.

Monday, I woke up resolved to be more of the wife and mother that Luke expects and deserves. More importantly, I resolved to be more of the wife and mother that I want to be. That night, he restated his complaints and conceded that his delivery of the information was wrong. I agreed that he had been an ass. On Tuesday, he apologized. He feels the way he feels but he was sorry for being a jerk about it. I let him know that I heard what he was saying. I didn’t disagree with his argument but I’d prefer he speak to me in a more respectful manner to voice it next time. And each day since has brought us a bit more to a place of understanding again.

I won’t go into any more detail of what we actually argued about as the content is so deeply tied into other posts that I want to share. But I will say that I am not perfect, nor do I pretend to be. If anything, I am most uneasy with my skills as a parent and my ego is a fragile thing. But Luke likes to think me perfect and finds it shocking when I am not. When he leaves for work in the morning, he wants to be secure in the idea that I have it ALL under control – the kids, the house, the finances… But this parenting/household CEO/maid/woman-trying-to-reenter-the-work-force gig is a juggling act that I am not handling with all the grace and style that I would like. I easily get over-whelmed. I often muddle through rather than leap forward. I often let our chaos run amuck rather than reining any true control over it. But I’m working on it.

And as for Luke, since he really is perfect 98 percent of the time, I can forgive the stormy 2 percent once in awhile. Besides, he did bring me coffee this morning and that is all the perfection I need.

*Susie and Luke’s Fair Fighting Rules were developed from our first argument as a married couple almost 15 years ago. I can’t remember what we even fought about but we did learn from our mistakes and outlined the following rules for future conflicts:
Never walk out on an argument, Never go to bed angry (you can’t sleep well), Never plead your case to your mother (she will only take his side anyway), and Never end an argument with the words “Fuck You.”

A Note from the Ledge...

2009-04-21T11:12:00.003-04:00

I don't have time for a proper post, although I have many drafted in my head. The kids were on their three week Spring break, my parents came to visit and I hosted 15 relatives here the Saturday before Easter. This is extraordinary since I live about 850 miles from any of my family. So needless to say, I have been busy cooking, washing dishes, doing laundry and fielding disapproving looks and snide remarks. I have just enough time to change the sheets on the bed before I go to pick up my dear friend at the airport. She keeps coming to visit despite my terrible hosting skills. That is unconditional love, baby. Soon, I will be back to my regular routine of cooking, washing dishes, doing laundry and making disapproving looks and snide remarks. Until then, let me leave you with this:
Enjoy!

Love Makes Coffee

2009-03-17T12:10:00.004-04:00

Seventeen years ago today, I thought I had a plan. Finish the papers, take the exams, graduate, find a job, plan a wedding… It was the last half of my last semester in college and I was trying hard to focus. The workload was overwhelming and I used it as an excuse, as a protective cover to hide behind rather than face my doubts and fears about the future.

When my long-distance boyfriend (let’s refer to him as Christopher) would call, I would whine, “I can’t talk right now, I have two papers due tomorrow.” But he’d want to know what I was doing and with whom. I was feeling suffocated by his constant need for reassurance. It turns out, he had good reason to be worried.

Seventeen years ago today, I liked the idea of having a plan. The plan was sensible. The plan meant security. If I could just focus and stick to the plan… But I was distracted by some nagging emotions. Christopher was having a career crisis of his own so he was coping with his own doubts. When we talked about them, he would describe his dreams and goals. In one pivotal conversation, I pointed out to him that when he spoke of his future, he neglected to mention where our prospective children and me might fit in. He was stunned by his own omission and admitted that he wasn’t sure he wanted to have children. The plan was cracking.

And then there was Luke. Luke lived downstairs and visited my room often to see my roommate. A few weeks prior, they had gone out on a date leaving me inexplicably jealous. I was confused by this emotion. I had no right to be interested in Luke since he obviously liked my roommate and especially since I had Christopher. So I tried to ignore those twinges. I tried not to notice how the party was more fun when Luke was there, the card game was more interesting when he was playing, that dinner tasted better when he sat at my table. Instead, I always had a project to research and a paper to write.

Seventeen years ago today, I wished out loud that I could spend St. Patrick’s Day properly, in a pub or café with a mug of Irish coffee. But there was no pub and no time.

Seventeen years ago today, Luke knocked on the door and asked me what he needed to make Irish coffee. With the typewriter in one hand and Christopher on the phone in the other, I shut the door with my foot and grumped that at least someone would be enjoying the night. A couple of hours later, Luke knocked on the door again - this time with a coffee maker and a bottle of Jameson Whiskey. Other friends joined us after we had already consumed a few mugs. I finished my paper with shaky fingers as a party built around me. Time sort of suspended after that. It’s needless to say that I was up all night, what with all the coffee and a steady stream of visitors. We played card games, had intense conversations, drank and I read James Joyce out loud. Aided and abetted by caffeine and alcohol, I allowed my heart to take the lead.

Seventeen years ago today, I wasn’t looking for love. That was not the part of the plan. But love doesn’t make plans - love makes coffee. And he’s been making me coffee ever since.

May all your St. Patrick’s Days be as lucky as mine and Luke’s have been.

*photo credit to Flickr.com

Lunch With The Ex?

2009-03-13T14:39:00.002-04:00

In the latest episode of How I Met Your Mother, the crew was discussing what happens when you have lunch with your ex. Barney, as he is the authority on the subject of dating, states there are only four reasons to meet an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend for lunch: 1. He/She wants to get back together, 2: He/she wants to kill you, 3: He/she wants to return your stuff, and 4: He/She wants to rub your face in the fact that they are better off without you. Being that Barney has not had a relationship that has lasted more than a few hours, it’s understandable why he wouldn’t consider a fifth reason to have lunch. May I propose Lunch Date Reason #5: He/she wants to simply catch up?

When you are in a serious relationship, that person is the first person you think of in the morning and the one you call first when you want to share good or bad news. You know their friends, their family, their coworkers and their pets. And when you break up, you can’t help but miss the friendship part of the relationship. There is no “But we can still be friends…” not that I know of, anyway. Even when a break-up is for the best, there are pieces of that other person that you will miss. It’s a simple fact.

My first real boyfriend and I dated for three years. We were a part of each other’s families calling each other’s parents “Mom” and “Dad.” Together we attended many weddings (seven in one summer), family dinners, vacations and school reunions. We made dreams and plans. We chose the names of our future children and where we would live when we retired. Our lives were intertwined. Opting to end the relationship meant having to let go of all of that and while I knew it was the right decision, it was a huge loss just the same.

I don’t often ponder what might have been if we had stayed together. I just know what wouldn’t have been – life as I know it now with all my boys and their joyful chaos. I chose to go with the unknown over the already decided. I chose passion over familiarity. I followed my heart and am so glad I did. I have no regrets but I do think of him – the same way I wonder about What If Marty and those other friends that I haven’t found on FaceBook.

But if I did find myself in New York and invited my ex out to lunch, #5 would be my reason. I’d want to hear about his work, his wife and child. I’d ask about his parents, his nieces and nephews who are all adults by now, his friends that used to be my friends. I’d get caught up on all that I’ve missed these last seventeen years. And in the process, I’ll be reassured that he is doing well and that breaking up was truly best for both of us, not just me. Perhaps that is the 6th reason to have lunch, but this I knew already.

Now it’s your turn. Pretend you have set up a date with your Ex. Which reason would it be? What would you and your ex talk about over lunch?

Taking Back The Girl, Revisited

2009-03-10T13:18:00.001-04:00

Ordinarily, being trapped at a Starbucks with only my laptop in tow would be a dream come true. I’m living my own fantasy right at this moment. But in true Susie fashion, not even this is enough. I am antsy – worried about all those other things I should be accomplishing. I brought work with me but I am missing the papers I actually need. There is no free Wi-Fi (Starbuck’s, WTF?) so I can’t do the research I thought I might do and I don’t actually have enough time to drive home and regroup.

Added to my over-caffeinated nervousness, is the fact that I left one very despondent toddler at preschool. He’s been having really hard goodbyes lately, so much so that my husband can’t bear to be the one to drop him off. So at the last minute, I stuffed my laptop in a bag, my hair in a ponytail holder and Logan in his car seat and here I am - sitting here, oozing with mommy guilt and coffee fumes.

I know not to take the crying child too personally. He’s having separation anxiety, a phase that will probably pass and even if doesn’t, can’t really be helped. Scooping him up and bringing him home would only have made the situation worse next time. He has hopefully pulled himself together shortly after I have left. As a seasoned professional, I know this. As a parent in desperate need for a moment alone, I can’t help but feel awful. Leaving him feels selfish and indulgent.

What’s a mommy blogger to do? Well blog, of course! Which brings me to my next thought. Did you know that last week was my blogiversary? Me neither. Looking over the last year of posts, there are so many thoughts that I would have liked to share, or started to share and not finished. Some posts I have started but was not able to give them the time I needed to make them complete and convey what I wanted. Some deal with difficult subjects and some just seemed like old news because some other fabulous blogger scooped me. So I had been pondering my anniversary post but went and folded some laundry instead. It seems that blogging has gone the same way as getting my hair cut and my closet organized – pushed to the list of Things I’d Really Like/Need To Do But Can’t Because I Don’t Have Time. I suppose the more appropriate term would be “Don’t Make Time” because time for myself is never a priority. This is not good, I know. Really, I’m working on it. Remember this post? Well who will join me in recommitting to making a little time for ourselves as people? Going to the grocery store does not count. Nor does picking up dry cleaning or taking the dog to the vet.

What are you going to do for yourself today or this week? Tell us in the comments or post on your blog. Let us know how you will Take Back the Girl. And me? I think I’ll take a breath, relax and enjoy my childfree Starbucks moment (even without the Wi-Fi).

Did I mention that the Dishwasher is Broken?

2009-02-19T16:43:00.001-05:00

One of the ways that I uphold my fragile sense of organization is by keeping lists. I have lists for things I need to do (pick up dry cleaning), need to buy (dog food), want to buy (area rug for family room), need to do soon (get tax stuff together), need to look into for the future (summer camp for kids), and the list of lists goes on…

I have no problem making lists. The problem I have is in getting anything from those lists accomplished. You see sometimes, a single item on the To Do list requires a complicated series of other To Do’s - which can make completing a simple task exhausting. Take, for example, item #4 from my current To Do list: “Get prescription filled.” Sounds simple, right? In actuality, getting the prescription filled requires calling the doctor’s office to ask them to write the prescription, wait appropriate time for request to be filled, drive to the doctor’s office to pick up prescription, sign forms saying that I am picking up the script, take script to pharmacy, return to pick up prescription after appropriate waiting time, find out that the pharmacy was actually out of that medication, then make faces at pharmacy staff person when I am asked if I would like to take my prescription to the pharmacy across town to see if they can fill it there and then FINALLY pick up the prescription. And so, “get prescription filled” takes three days.

So, it was no surprise to me today that I wasted a LOT of time trying to tackle item #1: “Make Insurance Claim.” When I was rear-ended two weeks ago resulting in some scratches to my bumper, I naively thought that I would simply just call my insurance agent and give him the information and he would make it all better. I was also naïve to believe that the guy who hit me had given me the correct information I needed to file the claim. You know where this is going, right? After three phone calls with my insurance agent, four different conversations with the guy’s “alleged” insurance company, two conversations with a police officer (not to mention the three calls it took to get to the officer I needed), one Google search, one Whitepages.com search and one “What the hell, let’s try Facebook” search, it has been determined that the man who hit my car does not actually exist. Neither does his car. Nor does his insurance policy. In fact, the only proof I have that incident even occurred are the scratches to my rear fender and to my pride. It has taken many steps and about two hours to learn the hard lesson of ALWAYS get a police report. And I still can’t cross out #1 from my To Do list. Sigh…

The other way that I uphold my fragile sense of organization is to not let my dishes pile up. It’s a simple thing, really. Each day, if I am only going to accomplish one household chore, I at least reboot the dishwasher. The clean dishes get put away, the dirty ones go into the machine - you know how it works. The empty sink and clear counters give the illusion of a clean kitchen, even for just a few moments out of the day. You know where this is going, right? Last night, I loaded the dishes, filled the soap dispenser, and turned the dial. After a few moments, there was a loud, awful grinding sound - the sound of money about to be spent on fixing or replacing a major appliance.

So, as I sit here in my kitchen full of dirty dishes considering taking another mental vacation, I will instead move “Call Repair Guy” to the #1 spot on my To Do List. I better rest up for that one.

Theme Thursday - Cold

2009-02-05T12:40:00.004-05:00

It's been quite some time since I participated in Stacy's Theme Thursday but I was determined today to find something in my archives to share. It was easy with COLD as the theme since we are feeling chilly even here in North Carolina. While I know many of my northern comrades are tired of the cold and the snow that comes with it, we reveled in it for the brief moment we had it.

Logan's first snow experience.

Jess tries to catch the elusive flake.

Morning frost etching the window.

Happy Winter Everyone!

Of Sloth and Circumstance

2009-01-26T20:31:00.001-05:00

January is proving to be a long month, without much to show for it. For most of last week and the week before, I took a mental vacation. I quite literally checked out – ignoring housework, To Do lists and social opportunities. I left the house very little, choosing instead to wrap the winter blues around me like a warm, comforting blanket.

Of course, I felt guilty for this. I was sheepish and apologetic to my husband who kept trying to reassure me that my “checking out” was understandable. But I felt bad for giving in to melancholy, for wallowing instead of fighting, for dropping the charade that is being fine and functioning.

So this week, I am back to the land of the interactive. I am catching up on laundry and sorting through piles of papers on my desk and countertops. I am reading and answering my emails and learning all of what I have missed in the blogosphere. I am renewing my resolve to get organized and feel accomplished. I’ll start with paying bills and writing something longer than a Facebook status. I’ve put out an Amber Alert on my motivation. And I will catch up with each of you. I hope you have doing well and next time I take a mental holiday, hopefully it will be with you and somewhere other than my messy living room.

Welcome home.

The Article That You Will Never See Published in the Journal of Aging and Health

2009-01-06T13:44:00.002-05:00

As a child development specialist, I tend to be tuned into children everywhere I go. I often regard my own as well as the children of others with a scientific eye, silently evaluating and noting their actions and emotions. Observing adults in this way is not something I often do but on our recent visit to our parents’ houses, I was awed and fascinated with these older grown-ups the same way that an animal behaviorist might take an interest in a species never before studied. Here are just a few of the new facts that I learned about our parent’s generation:

First of all, the grandparent set loves plastic bags, especially of the zipper variety. They also have an odd attachment to paper plates and duct tape. With the use of these three items, there is nothing that can’t be stored, preserved or repaired. This ingenuity comes in handy because they also do not like to throw anything away.

It seems that all knick-knacks are precious. The value of these items is directly proportional to whether or not the gift came from a child (even if that child is let’s say now 38 years old) or if the giver is now deceased (even if let’s say the giver was never actually liked). These treasures must be displayed and kept safe from the roaming of toddler fingers. In the event that one of these whatnots accidentally gets broken, one must not throw it away – no need when there are plastic bags and duct tape available.

Apparently, once you are retired, the body requires very little sleep. An older person can be the last one in the house asleep and the first to rise leaving them capable of reporting every cough and movement of the other sleepers in astonishing detail.

Our parents live in a bubble (possibly made from a Ziploc baggie) called The Way That It Is. Outside of this bubble is Everything Else. Everything Else is different and threatens to force change within the bubble. Everything Else is not welcome because it is not The Way That It Is. There is no perception of our way and your way and their way. Life is simply divided between the worlds of The Way That It Is and Everything Else.

Finally, the older generation loves condiments. No matter what the food, there is a matching condiment. And it is perfectly acceptable to have more than one jar of the same condiment open in the fridge at the same time because condiments last forever, especially when sealed in plastic bags. And that is The Way That It Is.

Ringing in the New Year, Susie Style

2009-01-01T20:34:00.003-05:00

I drafted this post in my head, on the last night of the year and the eve of the last night of our “vacation.” I use quotations because when you take three children for two weeks to three different states to visit family, you can hardly call it a vacation.

Like most times of my life, I vacillate between two extremes of mood. Last night, sitting cozy with my glass of wine in the warmth of the fire, I watched the snow blow against the window. It was the perfect way to spend the last night of the year. I felt equally at peace with the moment and eager to be in my own home.

The trip has been full of frustrations – weather dictating our arrivals and departures, traffic causing more delays, a busy visiting schedule leaving not enough time to do activities but too much time doing nothing… And then there are all the little family issues that cause the gnashing of teeth and the rolling of eyes. It turns out that keeping my thoughts to myself is EXHAUSTING – when I’ve been able to do that, that is. For example, both my parents’ house and my mother-in-law’s house are full of things that don’t work properly. At my parents’, it was practically impossible to turn on a light or use the toaster without blowing a fuse. My mother-in-law’s house had only sporadic hot water when wanting to shower but perfectly fine boiling water when washing my clothes using the cold setting. And then of course, there is the annual holiday viral joy starting in Pennsylvania and spread throughout Southern New England.

The boys, when not sleeping off a fever or buzzing on cold medicine, seem to have genuinely had a good time. Celebrating Christmas and birthdays (both Jess and my husband are Christmas babies) in three separate houses, playing with cousins and generally getting whatever treats their hearts desire is certainly a great way to spend a couple of weeks. But I must admit, all this togetherness has me counting down the minutes to the start of school on Monday.

It will be wonderfully familiar to get back to our routine in our own home, sleeping in our own beds and eating our own food. At the same time, I wish I could take a bit more time off from my to-do list and daily life worries. Once we unlock our back door and drop the duffel bags of dirty laundry on the floor, life will be BUSY again. And it will be hard to leave the beach as it is hard to not feel that all is well with the world when you are looking at views such as this:

It feels like a month since we have been home as two weeks is too long to be away. But it has also not been long enough to see everyone and everything that we want to see. We always think we might get to have a date, what with all the family available to babysit, and there never seems to be time. Oh well, maybe next year – except next year, we will stay home for the holidays.

Happy New Year Everyone!

It's a GiveAWay! Yay!

2008-12-09T10:48:00.002-05:00

The lovely and talented Canape has landed us the perfect Holiday gift to give away at Triangle Mamas. Go on over and take a look!

Reason #37 to Home-School

2008-12-08T20:06:00.004-05:00

Before our babies are even conceived, we start making lists of all our hopes and dreams for their lives. What they might look like, what schools they will attend, what careers they may choose… And we make another list of all the things we hope our children never experience. This list has sub-categories such as Things My Parents Did That I Will Never Do, Things My Friends Do That I Will Never Do, Things That I Did That I Will Never Let My Kids Do, etc. Of course there are the major things that you hope your child never has to go through first hand: life-threatening illness or serious injury – neither physical nor emotional. You hope they never have to cope with danger, tragedy or pain. And you hope they never, ever get a case of head lice.

Yep. Head lice. Now that I am on the other side of the mountain of laundry, I can talk about it. But it was traumatic at the time. Last Tuesday, Dean tentatively described to me these tiny bugs he was finding on his clothes and my stomach lurched a bit. Upon closer inspection, my fears were confirmed. One trip to CVS, two poison treatments (the first one didn’t work), one serious allergic reaction to the shampoo (me), two missed school days, one magic hot oil treatment, 48 loads of laundry and countless hours of combing later, I finally feel confident that he just might be the only family member to host the little bastards. That hasn’t stopped my neurotic scratching and head checking or my lectures to “keep your head, your coat, your clothes to yourself fortheluvaGod!”

A friend who recently dealt with this same issue with her own child laughed (at) with me. “It changes your whole perspective doesn’t it,” she said when I gasped to see my son wearing some of the freshly cleaned dress-up clothes – on his head. When I saw his head bent close to his brother’s while they worked on a project together, instead of saying, “Awwwww,” I said, “Ewwwww!” Is it going overboard to have him change his clothes as soon as he gets home from school or to look around his classroom with an accusing eye – who else is scratching? Whose head is the head of origin?

During one of our lengthy combing sessions, I found that I was silently debating which would be worse, stomach flu or lice? Both cause extreme housecleaning and extra laundry. Both result in someone staying home from school and major changes in my routine. Both make me become an internet expert on the subject. Both allow me to play that subtle blame game unique to parents "I think he got this from your child". Both make me do that complicated math equation in my head: # of days of incubation x the # of days of infection + the # of days of contagion x the # of family members = the # of days until Mom can rest assured that we are in the clear (which also equals the number of glasses of wine that may get consumed). Too close to call.

Hang on Tight!

2008-11-20T13:15:00.002-05:00

Oh, that’s right! I have a blog! I had almost forgotten. Actually that’s not true. I just haven’t been able to complete a whole sentence, either spoken or written. So I feel that I have much to tell you.

First, I never meant for this to be a politics blog. Who knew that I could get so caught up in all of it that I’d dedicate several posts to the subject? Or that I would meet so many new friends with different ideals than my own? Blogging indeed makes this a small world. But alas, the election is over and it’s time to put the Christmas tree away and wonder what we had ever had in the corner before this. It feels so empty now. A friend asked the other night, “So now what do we talk about?”

Exactly, it’s a good time to contemplate the future – including the future of this blog. When I started this site earlier this year, it was to give myself a place to put my thoughts, snippets and sound-bites of what goes through my mind. I thought that if I had a defined space and perhaps an audience to hold me accountable, I would make the time to formulize these thoughts into the written word. And reaching out to you and having you reach back, has been the most wonderful outcome.

I knew I wanted the blog to be about how I feel about my life and the players in it. I wanted to use At Home With Me to talk about all those things that I often talk to my friends about or wish that I could. With some posts, the words come easily. I am inspired by something I read or experience and create a post in short order. Mostly though, I struggle with the words. It can take hours, sometimes days, to craft a piece the way I want it to be or often, to only come up with a paragraph. Those are the subjects I most desperately want to write about but find it’s too difficult.

I’m still working out some details. I still haven’t figured out where I stand on the subject of anonymity. There are some subjects that I tend to avoid based on the idea of who might be reading it. I have invited some folks from my personal life to read but I still feel so shy about it. And because the readership is so small, I have considered giving up the blog entirely. But you have been so encouraging. You tell me I still have a voice and a story to tell. And I do. So I will. I thank you for your patience.

The past two weeks have been a bit of an emotional roller coaster. I’ll feel perfectly fine one minute and then something will happen and I will hate everyone. My husband noted this about himself last week and I thought he was being overly dramatic. But now I know what he means. I’ll be singing to myself as I load the dishwasher and then see out the window that the neighbor’s lawn care crew has herded all the leaves from the neighbor’s yard into mine. I become an instant grouch. Today, this has been especially true. There have been several annoyances and finally, the conversation with the pediatrician’s nurse left me to lose it completely. I called and asked the Doctor to call me back so I could discuss a question of my son’s medication with him. I was told I needed to make an appointment because he doesn’t talk to people on the phone. I started to argue a bit and then I started to cry. “My entire family has been coming to this clinic for ten years now and you are telling me he doesn’t have time to speak with me unless I spend an hour in the waiting room first?!” She kindly said she would give him the message and maybe he will make an exception. (I can see the message – “Dr. Don’t Have Time, Please return hysterical mom’s phone call.”)

See what I mean? From perfectly happy to pit of despair in ten seconds or less – there is no in-between state of mind. The chiropractor broke up with me and told me we can see other people – Yay! Husband’s company sends out letter stating there may be no bonus this year – Doom and gloom! My mother-in-law sent fudge – Celebration! That bitch cut me off in car line again – Misery! And so forth…

All this craziness already! The holidays are right around the corner. There will be school events (three different kids means three different “Thanksgiving Feasts” on three different days), musical performances, field trips and then the Christmas parties. Then there is the fact that the kids are out of school almost two entire weeks before Christmas. Don't forget the birthdays. And there will be the traveling. I don’t think I’ve discussed here my love/hate relationship with traveling. We will leave that one for another day.

Where Susie Gets Taken Down a Peg or Two and This is Not a Political Post, Really

2008-11-06T10:12:00.001-05:00

I was planning on blogging about the day after the election, with all its elation and hope, but I won’t. There are no words or spin to those words that I could write that have not been spoken or blogged already (it seems Green Girl and I are more like-minded than I initially thought). Anything that I can say would simply be old news.

So in lieu of describing the spring in my step, my smiles for strangers and my eagerness to share in the euphoria of our election results, I will tell you something that may surprise you. Not all my friends and acquaintances (even in the blogosphere) are Democrats. While you are gasping out loud, let me explain, because I was surprised too.

I was catching up on some reading today while I was thinking about how to blog about something other than politics. I came across a post written on Monday by a blogger I regularly read and who often comments here. It was a concession confession of sorts. It seems that she’s a closet Republican and she was posting about how she’s doesn’t fit the media-induced stereotype and won’t be happy with a Democrat in office. And I left what I thought was a respectful comment at the time about how brave she is for stating her thoughts even though there are people (like me) who disagree and isn’t it great that we can all get along despite our differences? Or something like that.

But once I hit the “post comment” button, I couldn’t help but feel like she had just pissed in my half-caf mocha latte. My elation was deflated. Of course she can write what she wants on her own blog – isn’t that the point of blogging? I really respect the fact that she did write that post because Lord knows; writing about politics can alienate your readership. I’d like to think that I am a better person and in riding the whole “We are United” feeling that both McCain and Obama infused in their speeches, I’d like to say that I’m OK with her having her own opinion. But I was surprised nonetheless.

My father’s racist jokes didn’t bring me down – I was prepared to hear them. There were a few Facebook comments from my more conservative acquaintances but these are people I know to lean more to the right. And I’m mildly curious as to why all the McCain yard signs have disappeared on my street, some before Tuesday even, because I couldn’t help but wonder, where is their loyalty? Even as we lectured our sons before school to be respectful to the people we know to be McCain supporters and not be all “Yes We Can” in their faces, I didn’t really consider that anyone out there might be feeling the same way I felt four years ago and four years before that. Because really, doesn’t everyone agree that this election ended in a rather exciting and awe-inspiring way? Are we not all enjoying the renewal of the American spirit?

So, yeah, I was surprised by the blogger’s post because I wasn’t prepared for her outing her party affiliation. And no, I don’t really think she was trying to ruin my fun. Judging by the other comments, I was the only reader who didn’t flat out agree with her. I don’t. It’s just a jolt to my self-absorbed psyche to find out that not everyone I like and have things in common with, admire even – have the same views as me. This was clear in the way that she wrote, “I hope they (the Democrats) don’t wreck the economy…” Um, because the economy is in such awesome shape now under the Republican watch? I may not be able to look at her quite the same way again. But will I go back to read her blog again? I hate myself for even asking.

She is simply exercising her First Amendment rights in stating one obvious difference in political views. In the simplest terms, Democrats think Republicans wreck everything and Democrats put it all back together and vice versa. Which is why Democrats are doing a happy dance right now (along with the rest of the free world) and Republicans are sneaking their yard signs into the trash under the cover of darkness.

So, I think my disappointment really stems from someone (and it just happened to be her) reminding me that not everyone is as happy about the returns as I am. I was forced to realize that it is pompous of me to assume otherwise. And maybe it’s just easier for a Democrat to feel this way, but right now, it shouldn’t matter whom you wanted to win. Right now, there is much work to be done and in the words of John McCain who said it so graciously and eloquently, disappointment is natural but our job now is to support our new president. Party lines are of little importance, really. No matter who has been voted into office, the work ahead affects us all. I said as much in my comment. I also said that my hope is that at least for now, the days of “it’s-us-against-them” politics are over.

And I hope they are.

The Nail-Biting Finish

2008-11-03T10:20:00.005-05:00

I haven't written about politics in awhile so now I have to ask: Have you voted yet?
Thanks to the convenience of early voting, I went last week. I would have rather waited until the 4th - the real Election Day. It felt a little unreal, a bit like opening Christmas presents early, but it was a matter of practicality. It was simply easier to go alone while the kids were in school rather than take them all with me and wait in line with them. And I'm glad I went alone because while I knew that I might get a little teary, I was surprised by the overwhelming surge of emotion as I placed my ballot in the machine.
I felt foolish as the tears streamed down my cheeks but not at all alone. This election feels monumental to me and guessing by the impressive voter turnout already, I know I'm not the only one. This is perhaps the most important election I will have participated in - ever. I'm not talking about the obvious historical impact since race has been a non-issue for me in this campaign. I'm talking about how casting my ballot was the last proactive step I could take to making change - change to make this country better for myself and my children. As I stood there feeding my ballot into the machine watching the number change from 40111 to 40112, I knew that my vote had been counted. Now all I can do is wait.
Some folks I know are hosting watch parties Tuesday evening. I am torn between wanting to be in the comfort of like-minded friends and wanting to be in the comfort of my own home as I nervously await election results. At the end of the day on Tuesday, the outcome (no matter how personal it feels to me) will be whatever it will be. I can not change it. I will either be happily filled with hope and optimism or I will be plotting my change in citizenship. Either way, come Wednesday morning, life will go on business as usual. Lunch boxes will have to be packed, laundry will have to washed, carpools will have to be driven. Eventually, we will find something else to discuss.
Until then, I feel both nauseous and hopeful. The finish line is in sight and I want to push to the other side quickly to get this part over with but at the same time, I want to keep savoring the possibilities. Once it is over, there will be no going back to this moment where it feels like anything can happen.
How will you spend the next two days? Will you seek the company of your political peers or will you sit in front of the television coverage, biting your nails?

Need help finding out about voting in your area? Try Vote411.org for info.

Pinpricks and Profanity

2008-10-31T16:48:00.006-04:00

Two weeks ago, I made the kids commit to their Halloween costume plans and then went shopping. Apparently, however, two weeks before Halloween is a better time to buy Christmas decorations than anything orange and black. The aisles were bare or picked over with the only costumes remaining being ones made for dogs. My sons had two choices: dress like a slutty pirate girl or like a Golden Retriever dressed as a slutty pirate girl. I should have known back in August when I couldn’t find the back-to-school supplies because they had been cleared out to make room for the Halloween stuff. Next year, I’ll know better. This year, I needed a plan B.

Dean was easy. He was wooed by the chance to accrue accessories of the macabre – a Styrofoam skull and a plastic dagger. Logan, being two, doesn’t really care. A few days later, I stumbled upon a penguin costume in the correct size and on sale for under $10. Done. Jess is adamant that he will be a green dragon. A fire-breathing dragon, by the way. I thought that a dragon would be simple to create and that I was getting off cheap and easy. I would simply buy a green hoodie and some felt – done. Except about a dozen stores later, I still could not find a green hoodie, green felt, or a ready-made dragon costume (not made for a dog). And I did consider the dog costume wondering how dog poundage related to kid size but I felt $30 was a little steep for something made for a dog. So back to the fabric store I went and over $40 worth of materials later, I am sitting at my long-lost sewing machine making the whole damn thing.

Five years ago when I left my paying job for the adventures of staying home with the kids, I initially put a lot of pressure on myself to be the perfect Alpha-mom. My sister was my roll-model and she is a firm believer in the essence of mommy-hood being in the making versus the buying of things - including the sewing of the Halloween costumes. So in my first stint home full-time, I made my sons’ costumes. It was an easy choice to make since an Obi-Wan Kanobi costume in size 4T was impossible to find at the time. However, I firmly believe that if you can find something ready-made that is just as good as what you can make, it is more efficient and probably less expensive to just go ahead and buy. Because while it is nice to be able to say, “I made it myself,” it can be a little stressful. We often joked that if we ever hosted our own sewing show, we’d call it “Pinpricks and Profanity.” Sometimes the frustration of trying to make the sewing machine cooperate is just not worth the effort.

So while I don’t think sewing costumes is a “Mommy Must-Do” activity, I admit that I don’t have a problem with actually doing it. Except for the time wasted searching for the easy shortcut, I am quite happy to make a costume for my child. In fact, I have been known to make costumes for other people’s children and if I had just started the “from scratch” approach several weeks ago, we wouldn’t have been in crunch time this week. And my husband thinks I am crazy for making life harder for myself when a Halloween costume should not be a life’s priority right now. He wants to know why I didn’t just tell my son to choose some other costume so we can be done. Well, because two weeks ago, this did seem like the easier choice.

But here is where I pull the selfish card – yesterday as I gazed upon my kitchen table made-over into a sewing studio, I sighed with contentment. I realized that I like a project. Rather than feeling overwhelmed, I was eager to begin. Halloween is the one time a year that I can haul out the sewing machine and create something from start to finish, without feeling like it’s just my own little hobby. Like making cookies rather than buying the perfectly fine bakery brand, the satisfaction of having made it myself has been worth the trouble. And the mommy and son moments in making the costume together have been simply priceless.

He thinks he's scary. I think he's cute. Don't tell him.

This post is original to At Home With Me and cross-posted at Triangle Mamas. Come by to meet the other Triangle Mamas and see their costumed cuties.

Autumn Falling

2008-10-24T11:40:00.001-04:00

Remember last time I mentioned that Fall comes late here? Well, it’s here now with colder weather (we have had warmer winters) and the typical dose of nostalgia. I’m not sure why changes of the season evoke so much wistful reminiscing in me. Perhaps it’s because they are often marked with so many endings and beginnings – the end of summer, the beginning of school, the end of what has been and the beginning of new experiences. In autumn, I always find myself quietly remembering the past and imagining different endings to those stories. At the same time, I try desperately to stay in the moment lest I miss any of what is right before me – kids jumping in piles of leaves, Halloween costumes to imagine and create, the sweet scents of the season…

To prove that I really do think this way each October, let me share with you something I wrote two years ago, in the days before the blog.

I received a surprise in the mail this morning – a CD from a dear far-away friend that she compiled herself. She titled it “another season” appropriately enough on this crisp autumn day. Also appropriate, is the melancholy quiet nature of the all the songs. Appropriate because while the rest of the world is waking up from the steamy sleepy summer to the cooler colorful change of season, I find myself nostalgic and contemplative. It’s the way that seasonal transitions mark the passing of time – another three pages torn from the calendar and another wardrobe of clothing outgrown by the kids. Not to say that I do not take joy here – in fact, fall is my favorite time of year. As soon as the temperature dips below 70 degrees, I get the urge to warm to house with hearty soups and pumpkin bread. October brings a whole new host of opportunities to embrace my inner Martha Stewart. But instead of baking right now, I sit here with my newest son, skirting the border between contentment and sadness. Last year, this baby was not even an idea and next year, he will no longer be a baby. All too soon, he will be gone – replaced by an older version of himself. Each season brings new joys and milestones leaving behind moments that were equally as joyous and will be missed. So now, I simply sit and drink him in. I try to memorize every detail of his face and the way his little chubby hands make a fist while he sleeps. I breathe in his sweet baby scent and sigh deeply. So while you are raking leaves, you can find me slow dancing with my baby to “another season.”

The passing of another season is also yet another reminder that being a stay-at-home mom is temporary employment. Even though Logan is only two, there is the subtle pressure to be thinking about my next career move. But I can’t think about it, I don’t want to think about it. I want to stay here in the season before the future, where I slow dance with my babies while the pumpkin bread bakes in the oven.

Theme Thursday - Saturday Edition

2008-10-18T21:16:00.008-04:00

Fall comes a little late here in North Carolina. The colors and temperatures change incrementally until one day you realize, "It's Fall and the leaves have changed and Christmas is in a month!" So while we are enjoying cooler than usual temperatures, the autumn colors haven't happened - yet. So I too am a little late for this week's Theme Thursday so that I could go through my archives and show you what fall looks like where I live.

It can be warm enough to enjoy a trip to the beach or to carve a pumpkin in shorts and t-shirts.

It is almost always perfect weather for hiking and enjoying the river and it's creeks.

It may even get cold enough for a frost. You just can never be sure.

Hands down, this is my favorite time of year. Long pants and warm soups, pumpkin bread and Halloween decorations - I love every moment of it. As soon as it gets here...

An Open Letter To Susie's Spine

2008-10-15T12:53:00.001-04:00

Dear Susie’s Back,

You and I have been a team for many years. Since about four weeks after I was conceived, you have been my frame, my core. I would not be where I am today without you. For everything I have done in my life, you have been right there – holding me up. You bend with me, pull with me, push with me, lift with me – all with out question or complaint. I know I have taken you for granted and I am sorry. I just always assumed we would be a team that worked like a well-oiled machine. But last Friday, as we wrestled a toddler into his car seat, you cried, “ENOUGH!” You made your displeasure painfully clear.

Admittedly, I have not been as kind to you as I should have been. In fact, the massage therapist used the word “abusive” and totally took your side. The lifting and carrying of the 30 pound toddler, the hauling of the laundry, the constant bending and stooping, and the contorted sleeping positions to accommodate the nursing baby have been too much for you. I suppose three pregnancies where I gained 45-65 pounds each time took their toll. As well as those two back labors. And the keeping of 30 extra pounds, lack of decent exercise and the years of bad posture and improper body mechanics have added up to some serious wear and tear. So while it should be no shock that you are out of alignment, I am a mom – my body is not my own and I thought you understood.

Until you went on strike, I had no idea how much I depended on your cooperation. It seems I was calling on your services so much, I didn’t even realize. I had no idea how many times I bent over to pick things up off the floor or load the dishwasher. Or how many back muscles are used in the changing off a diaper. Or how much back is required to lift the laundry basket and pull the wet clothes out of the washer, or in the walking of the dog, or in the making of dinner. And since I haven’t been able to do those things in the last several days (at least not without complaint from you) and I have a new appreciation for just how tenuous our relationship actually was.

At first, it was kind of nice to take a break from my regular duties and ask for help. “Honey, will you take of care of Logan’s poopy diaper?” “Sweetie, will you take the dog out for Mommy?” “Can someone take the chicken out of the oven for me?” But now it’s Wednesday and the house is a wreck. The laundry is backed up. The dog has gotten fat. I don’t even know what that spot is on the floor and I can’t get close enough to clean it up. Logan’s not been able to play outside because it’s too hard to physically restrain him and his tricycle from going out into the road. It hurts to sit on the floor and play with my kids. It takes me ten minutes to put on socks. I haven’t been able to use conditioner in my hair because the bottle has fallen onto the shower stall floor. Between the constant pain and the not being able to go about my daily business, your little demonstration is on my last sciatic nerve.

I want to be sympathetic, I do. But this wasn’t really a good time for you to go all Prima Donna on me. And while I pledge to not take you for granted anymore, I do need you to get over yourself and pull it together. We have shit to do. I don’t know what it means to take better care of you. Am I not supposed to catch a toddler in mid-flight as he falls from the monkey bars? Since I can feel you spasm when I only look at the vacuum cleaner, am I to assume that I will no longer be vacuuming? And what about the laundry? Am I to kick my two load-a-day habit? I’m hoping the chiropractor will help us to work out our differences and get back to our pain-free selves. The whole family is counting on us. So until that appointment, I will continue to respect your need for space. I will continue to take a load of pain medicine in an attempt to subdue you. And if you could just let me get into a position comfortable for sleeping, I would be very grateful.

Respectfully Yours,
Susie

Susie's Day

2008-10-14T13:51:00.002-04:00

Mrs. G asked us to describe an average day. I didn't think you needed to see photos my dirty kitchen so I made you this little wordle. And yes, I do everything a day late. That is quite typical.

Has the Blogging Bubble Burst?

2008-10-12T19:53:00.002-04:00

Does it seem to you that bloggers are posting less frequently? I, myself, had been sporadic for a while there between kids on break from school and houseguests. Since then, I noticed a marked decrease in my traffic, mainly in my comments. And this weekend, no visitors at all which is odd since the weekends are when most people are on-line reading blogs. So where has everyone gone? Have I come too late to the party?

I’m not the only one who has noticed. Marty (AKA Canape) and I were emailing about this very subject the other day. She quoted her friend Susan by saying “For whatever reason, people just aren’t blogging and reading blogs the way they used to…” Marty has had to stop blogging for a while for personal reasons so the delicate circle of blogger>reader>commenter>comment reader>blogger is broken. Elena too is without Internet access so not only is she not blogging, but she’s not visiting blogs either. I’m accounting much of my decrease in stats to this. But how does that account for the drop in other people blogging?

Could it be that the beautiful fall weather has people outside playing rather than reading about others playing outside? Are people just busy with soccer, school carnivals and other kid-related activities? Or are people occupied with withdrawing their life savings from fragile banks and stuffing their mattresses with it? Maybe, just maybe (gasp) blogging has become passé?

On Thursday, Karen presented a possible explanation. She claims her lapse in posting is not due to starting her new job but rather several reasons, one of them being the great time-suck that is Facebook. Seems you can get lost for hours on that site, looking up old friends and acquaintances. So, in order to understand where everyone went (just in the name of science, mind you), I went ahead and logged in. By this afternoon, I have located two nieces, one sister-in-law, a childhood pen pal from England, a high school friend, several former co-workers and my college roommate – just to name a few. I have also found several other people that I was just a little two shy to “friend in” such as the guy who dumped me the night of the prom. {And in case you were wondering, yes, I looked up What If Marty. But in three pages of individuals with the same name, I couldn’t find him for sure. Even if I did, I doubt I would have sent him a message.}

The point is, I see what Karen is saying and I think this is a plausible explanation of where the bloggers have gone – they are vacationing over in Facebook. Because even though I was confident that I could handle it and wouldn’t obsess, I keep logging back on because I think of one more person to look up. And then I check to see who answered my requests. And then I have to think of witty things to write on my niece’s wall so I don’t look like the weird stalker aunt who’s old and un-cool. And, my God, the worrying about the profile picture! Since I don’t have one, I asked my artist niece to draw me an avatar. She hasn’t answered my request to be a “friend” yet so, I’ll let you know how that works out. In the meantime, I think I’ll go read some blogs and leave thoughtful comments on every one – right after I check my Facebook.

Theme Thursday - Sunshine

2008-10-09T18:16:00.003-04:00

I'm with Stacy on this one - I think some sunshine in a photo adds a little flare (sorry!) I never thought of it as a bad thing unless it washes out a picture completely. Sometimes though, it's exactly what I am trying to capture.

I like how the sunflare here gives the photo an automatic antique look. No photoshop required. And I know with this next one will make you want to break into inspirational gospel song...

Here, I wanted to catch the way the light came through the leaves. I wish I had caught more of the flare, actually.

What was your sunshiny inspiration?

Who's Your "What If...?"

2008-10-07T18:52:00.003-04:00

For two nights in a row, I have had a similar dream. Half memory, half fantasy, it is a dream that has left me nostalgic and pondering. My 18 year- old self is walking hand-in-hand with a boy on our college campus. Our heads are bent close together and he is telling me something, something that makes him sad. Because it’s only a dream, I can’t make out his words but I am sad for him as well. Then we are joking again and he walks away. I call out to him, “Should I wait?” But there is no answer and I leave as well. I wake up questioning what ever happened to that boy that I haven’t seen or even thought much about since we last spoke 16 years ago. It’s a strange subject to have come up – a question where there will be no resolution – a past that was meaningful at the time but has no bearing on my life right now. There is no regret here – only remembering and wondering what if…

Do you have a “what if” relationship in your past? The “what if” being the subject of your secret crush, or perhaps the one that you went on that one date with but he never called, or that person that you were only friends with but you had wished for more? My guess is that we all do. Let’s indulge my nostalgia for a moment while I share mine.

In order to continue with the Gilmore Girls blogonym theme, we will call him Marty. If you recall, Marty was Rory’s first college friend – the boy she found drunk and naked outside her dorm room door. There was no romantic relationship – just some wishing on his part. So now you have a hint as to how this story will go.

When I began my freshman year in college, Marty and I shared a couple of classes together. I can’t remember exactly how our friendship started, I only remember ALWAYS being with him and our small group of mutual friends. Since we attended a small commuter branch of our state university, we spent much of our time between classes hanging out on campus – talking, studying and playing cards. We did things outside of school as well – parties, meals, plays, trips to museums, etc. There was a closeness and comfort with each other, much like that in my dream. We were virtually inseparable and everyone simply assumed we were a couple – an assumption that at the time I wished could be true. But at any given point in our friendship, one of us was dating someone else. I’d hear all about his girlfriend of the day and he knew all about my boy troubles. Perhaps I imagined it, but I had often gotten the sense that Marty felt the same about me and it was just that our timing was off. Who’s to say?

In all that time together, Marty and I only had what I would call one actual date. He may not have viewed it as such, however, because he did not kiss me good-bye. We had spent the day together with another couple to celebrate the end of our freshman year. When he dropped me off at home, I stalled the appropriate amount of time before getting out of the car – just long enough to give him a chance but not so long as to appear obvious. We promised to keep in touch over the summer – maybe we’d get together in the next week?

And of course, we didn’t. But when the next semester started, we picked up right where we left off. There were the classes we had together and the friends that we shared. There were the parties and other outings – everything was the same. Except the one difference was that I was seriously dating someone – a relationship that began over the summer when it had become apparent that Marty was not going to make his move. Having a boyfriend took the pressure off wondering if our relationship were ever going to progress and we became even better friends. That extra closeness, however, was even more confusing after awhile. The confusion became a rift in the relationship with my boyfriend and even led to a breakup. The day after we broke up, Marty was the one to offer comfort, unaware of his part. Several moments later, when he started telling me about his new girlfriend, I was crushed. I finally confided in one of our friends that he was the reason my boyfriend and I broke up. She was excited and surprised and of course, understanding of the irony. “Why don’t you just tell him?” she’d ask and I’d answer, “Because it could ruin everything. At least now, we are friends.”

And so it was. After awhile, I realized my feelings for the boyfriend were more important than my crush on Marty and we dated for a long time after. I was out to prove that guys and girls can be just friends. So that is all we ever were. We lived in the same dorm and ate breakfast together. I’d take refuge in his room when my room was “occupied” by my roommate and her boyfriend. I went to his parties. He occasionally walked me to class. And then we graduated. The last time I spoke to him was at a Halloween party – 16 years ago. I’ll never know why he didn’t kiss me that day. I’ll never know if he ever wished he had.

While I have better things to do than pine away for my college crush, I do wonder what ever happened to Marty – in the same way that I’m curious as to what became of the girl who encouraged me to declare my feelings or my first roommate or the boy who played his clarinet in the hall. I never kept in touch with any of them. I am always amazed by how relationships change and fade as we grow. Some we keep and develop, some we outgrow like clothes that no longer fit. Like most of my friendships from the college era, they were important then but have no time or place now except in my memory – and the rare dream.

For four years, I questioned “What if” things had been different with Marty. But I think I might have known the truth all along. The dream was an adequate summary of a simple story. It never would have worked – Marty’s a Republican.

If It's Not On YouTube, It Must Not Exist

2008-10-04T19:30:00.002-04:00

For those of you who were curious about the movie Local Hero that I mentioned, it seems that YouTube has just about the entire film posted in three minute segments. So here you go...

And keep in mind that the first time I watched this (19 years ago) I had just gotten my wisdom teeth out and was fuzzy on percoset. And I wasn't all that impressed. But it meant a lot to the person who showed it to me - so I watched it again - and again. And I found it funnier with each viewing. I recommend you Netflix it, pour yourself a glass of wine (or whiskey) and watch this on a cold, rainy afternoon. Enjoy.

Theme Thursday - Multiple

2008-10-02T18:01:00.005-04:00

I have been absent from Stacy’s Theme Thursday for several weeks now so I was thrilled to see that the theme this week is an automatic one for me: Multiples. As you all know, I’ve got the Y chromosome in multiple around here – and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But once a week, I borrow a girl-child for a little estrogen balance.

May I present my kids:

And it’s a bonus that I actually have a picture I could use since I don’t like to post pictures of my children where you can see their faces.

And with all the rain that we have had lately, I've had ample opportunity to take pictures of my favorite subject, raindrops on leaves.

And if you liked this post, please come see the updated version (with commentary from Jess added) over at Triangle Mamas. What do you have in multiple?

Catch Up

2008-09-30T16:30:00.002-04:00

The funny truth about blogging is that not posting very often really lowers your readership stats. I feel I have let both of you down and I’m really sorry. Now that my houseguest has left, we are now back to our regularly scheduled program of laundry, dishes and mommy blogging. Give me a few more days to catch up with all of you.

My two oldest are in their last week of their fall intercession. The year-round school calendar has them in school for nine weeks, off for three. Let me tell you, three weeks is just too long. The first week, we went somewhere every day. The second week, Dean went to a camp and we had my awesome kid-loving friend visiting. This week, I’d like everyone to simply go away. If I were to post yesterday, it would have read just like this - same exact story.

Having my friend here last week made me a better parent, even if I was a terrible host. I was on my best parenting behavior with a calm voice almost all of the time, which was exhausting. Maybe it was the knowledge that I had another adult in the house, in case I needed backup, or the wanting to give the impression that I haven’t completely unraveled – whatever it was, last week was easier. The patience I had, phony or not, left in my friend’s suitcase. I already miss them both.

And speaking of my poor friend - I felt terrible that I was so caught up in the mommy-related things that I am always caught up in that I didn’t show her a good time. And she didn’t expect to be wined and dined and entertained but I think the worst part for her was that I kept apologizing. I couldn’t stop myself and got completely stuck on how bad I felt that I hadn’t even really cooked a meal for her that I think if I said “I’m sorry” one more time, she might of wanted to slap me. If she were at all uncomfortable with her stay, it was probably because I made her feel that way with all my whining. She expected the chaos, the loudness and the toys all over the floor. She probably didn’t expect me to be constantly pointing it all out to her and saying “Why on earth would you pick my house for a vacation?” Seriously, it’s the last place I’d choose. I’m guessing that her next trip will be to the beach and I won’t be invited.

So in the spirit of catching up with good friends, I have two meme’s to offer. Mamabeeotch tagged me with this one quite some time ago:

1. What is your favorite quotable line from a movie? Too hard to pick a favorite so here are a few movies I often quote: Spinal Tap – “But these go to eleven” (Nigel’s answer to why his stereo speakers are so special); Raising Arizona – what is not to quote? “I need a baby HI, they got more than they can handle…” “I got the best one I did” and many others; Local Hero – Another movie that grows more hysterical the more you watch it. Watch it and you too will find yourself quoting it often.
2. Who is the most famous person you’ve talked to? Having worked in a children’s hospital for over a decade, I have met various athlete’s from teams such as the Carolina Panthers, Carolina Hurricanes, Duke Basketball, Cincinatti Reds and the University of Kentucky football and basketball. I have also met Matthew Laurance (from the original 90210 cast) who used to come to the hospital with the Duke basketball team and helped with some fundraising events. Most noteworthy was the time I spent with Jeff Foxworthy visiting the patients. He and his wife Gregg didn’t just pop into rooms and wave. They sat and spoke with each family and asked questions and suffered through the kids’ jokes that they had made in preparation for Jeff’s visit. He laughed at every single one.
3. How many bags/boxes of potato chips are consumed at your house per month? Depends on the chip – but maybe one or two.
4. What foreign food dish do you prepare from scratch and serve? Right now, anything other than mac and cheese is foreign in this house. But by request, tonight I will be making tortilla soup. The kids will actually eat this.
5. What is your favorite section of the supermarket? The exit.
6. What was your high school team’s mascot and what were the school colors? We didn’t have a mascot but we wore maroon and gold – just like the Gryffindors.

Then Green Girl in Wisconsin put this one out there today for whomever wanted to play:

1. What are your nicknames? Sue, Sues, Mom, Mommy, Mama (if you are really wanting something).
2. What game show and/or reality show would you like to be on? Fetch with Ruff Ruffman, except I think I might be too old.
3. What was the first movie you bought in VHS or DVD? Field of Dreams, VHS, as a gift to my first real boyfriend (it was the movie we went to on our first date).
4. What is your favorite scent? Patchouli, rosemary, lavender and coffee.
5. If you had a million dollars that you could only spend on yourself, what would you do with it? I would buy as much land as I could and create a nature preserve.
6. What one place have you visited that you can't forget and want to go back to? Ireland – I’d love to travel it on my own terms and research my family lineage.
7. Do you trust easily? Mostly, until someone gives me reason not to and then I may never trust him/her again.
8. Do you think before you act, or act before you think? I think a little too much probably. I am often paralyzed by indecision.
9. Is there anything that has made you unhappy these days? Everything that Green Girl mentioned and how greed seems to fuel it all; that there are folks who will make their election-day decision based on one issue, misinformation or racism; that bad things happen to good people and everything that I list in #10.
10. Do you have a good body image? For one week out of each month, I do. The rest of the month, I hate my hair and my hormone-induced acne on my chin and why is tweezing a full-time job?
11. What is your favorite fruit? Blueberries and whatever else is in season.
12. What websites do you visit daily? My local news, my favorite blogs, Huffington Post.
13. What have you been seriously addicted to lately? Coffee, tea, chocolate, blogs, and that elusive five minutes of quiet.
14. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is? I can only imagine that we’d be good friends in real life.
15. What's the last song that got stuck in your head? Book of Love from the new Dar Williams and the Stars Wars theme music.
16. What's your favorite item of clothing? My jeans with the big whole in the knee and that are too short for me – they fit everywhere else so perfectly and are soooo comfortable.
17. Do you think Rice Krispies are yummy? Only if they are covered in chocolate.
18. What would you do if you saw $100 lying on the ground? Look around to see if the one who dropped it is looking for it and then donate it to charity if I can’t locate the owner.
19. What items could you not go without during the day? Coffee and my laptop.
20. What should you be doing right now? Paying attention to the children.

I’m going to break with meme tradition and just say that whoever reads this and wants to be tagged, go for it. I’d love to catch up with you.

Susie Sucks as a Hostess

2008-09-25T21:01:00.002-04:00

In case you were planning on visiting and staying with me, you should know that I actually suck as a hostess. Now the dear friend that is visiting me right now might disagree. She will saw that she is not here to be entertained. She will say that she is here just to visit with us and is not concerned with the chaos that is a family of five. She will say that she is more than happy to accompany us to the dentist, to nature camp pick-up and the grocery store. She cheerfully plays on the floor with the kids. She pretends not to mind the dog sleeping on her pillows and blankets set up for her on our couch. And I'm sure she means it all, but I still feel like I suck.

My visiting friend has made my life easier this week, no doubt. I have left one or two children in her care while I have showered, used the bathroom and picked up Dean from camp. I am trying not to take advantage of her love of kids. And she understands that this is my life and it can't stop simply because she is visiting. She doesn't judge me when I let the kids watch TV so that she and I can actually talk or I can make dinner. She is the perfect guest.

I wish I could show her a better time. We stayed in today because I couldn't think of anything that I wanted to do with her and the kids in tow. She understood. She listened to me try to sound out a parenting dilemma for half the afternoon. She never told me to stop whining and to move on. She took a vacation and came to see me in all my craziness. And to that I am so very grateful. I'd like to cook her a real dinner. I'd like to take her shopping or our for a glass of wine. I'd like to stop being so self-absorbed so I can focus on her. Maybe I'm a fine hostess and I just suck as a friend.

Who wants to come over next?

Dare I Call it Community Organizing?

2008-09-18T10:00:00.002-04:00

For those of you that have been reading this blog for a while, you might be wondering where I have gone and what I might be doing instead of blogging. I am finding that I am being remarkably quiet, even for me. It’s not because I don’t have anything on my mind – I have so many things I’d like to share with you. But other than simply being busy with the kids, I’m quiet because I am trying to strike a balance between processing my thoughts out loud and being respectful of others’ viewpoints. That’s right, I’m talking politics – however did you guess? Politics and this election are the subjects occupying my thoughts most prominently.

I have never before quite felt this way about an election. I've been interested, but not nail-biting nervous like this. There was the study and rallying to encourage people to vote that was part of Sociology 101 coursework in 1988. Most of my peers then didn’t even know who the candidates were, let alone planning on dragging their big hair to the polls. That year, I simply voted because it was my right to do so – not because I had a strong opinion of either candidate. Four years later, I waited in the longest line I had ever seen to cast my vote in the Bush vs. Clinton race. I was happy to do my part by casting my vote. The outcome was beside the point. I felt like my vote counted. And then there were the two dark elections in a row where I voted and felt like my vote didn’t matter – that it wasn’t enough. I felt helpless and unheard. This time around though, I am truly excited about this election. This will be the first time that I will be voting for a candidate rather than against one.

But I am aware of a certain discomfort in discussing such matters. Being from New England and in the words of Dar Williams, “Way back where I come from, we never mean to bother, We don’t like to make our passions other people’s concerns.” I was raised in a family where polite conversation did not involve talk of politics, religion and sex. I personally felt uncomfortable reading a blog post recently written by someone who is very pro-Palin. Since she asked for comments, I left a thoughtfully and respectfully (I hope) dissenting one. But I will guiltily admit that I may not be back to read that particular blog for a while. And I got very little feedback on the one post I wrote that wasn’t even necessarily about politics but I had the word in my title. So if I am putting anyone off here, I am sorry and I understand. It is simply easier to talk about the current state of the election with like-minded people – I get it.

The problem is, only speaking with folks who feel the same way I do isn’t really helping the cause. I can write numerous posts about what I like about Obama and what I dislike about McCain and those of you who agree with me will say, “Sing it Sister” and those of you who disagree will quietly click away. I’m sure I won’t be changing anyone’s mind so there is no reason to turn my blog into a podium. [For those who are completely undecided and plan on flipping a coin in the voting booth, email me and I’ll tell you why I am pro-Obama.] Seriously, do you really want to hear what I think of Palin as our potential new VP? I bet you can guess. However, I feel that we do need some true activism so I make the following proposals for whatever side of the ticket you are leaning:

1. Stop talking about the candidate for whom you are not voting and start talking about the candidate for whom you are voting. Tell us why you think he’s the right man for the job.
2. Write a heart-felt email or letter detailing these reasons and send it to everyone you know.
3. Call your local campaign office and find out how you can help. You can volunteer any number of ways by helping to get folks registered to vote or making calls. If you don’t have that kind of time, offer to donate food to feed the other volunteers.
4. Donate to the campaign of your choice. It’s going to take money to campaign hard in those battleground states.
5. Offer to drive someone to the polls that ordinarily might not be able to get there on their own.
6. Find out who’s on the fence – these are the people who will decide the election and these are the people we need to be talking to.
7. Get the facts on your favorite candidate – feel free to correct people who are spreading ideas that are simply not true. For example, “No, Obama does not want your kindergartner to carry condoms.”
8. By all means, vote. But only McCain or Obama can be president so think carefully before wasting your vote on a third party candidate or write-in. No one has ever made it to the Oval Office by a write-in vote. If you do decide to write-in your vote, email me ahead of time so I can make sure you know how to spell my last name correctly.

If true change is to happen, it is going to have to start with us. Be proactive! If you have any other ideas, please let me hear them. Please, please comment – I’d love to hear what you are thinking.

Nine

2008-09-13T20:14:00.004-04:00

Without a doubt, the one thing I have always known that I wanted to be was a mom. In my earliest memories of playing as a child, I am holding a baby doll in one arm while hanging doll clothes on my small clothesline with the other. At night before sleep, I’d tuck those dolls into their own beds and kiss them goodnight. I wanted to be the best mom I could be and I was practicing for my far-off future.
When I was too old for dolls, I still knew I wanted to be a mother, although not until my career was well established. I figured that time would come late in life, like when I was thirty or something. And then the adult years of true baby lust came and I was saddened each month when my period came, even though I was using birth control and we agreed we weren’t ready. Parenthood was still off in the future.
The planning began in earnest after one particularly emotional day at work. I had kept vigil with a family the entire day. The parents and two young children had been in a car accident on the way to school that morning. The dad was critically injured and it was clear that he probably was not going to survive. The mom was being treated in another room so I was called in to start some psychological first aid with the kids. Later in the day, as the kids prepared to say “good-bye” to their father, the mother kept saying over and over, “At least I have the two of you. At least I have the two of you.” And that was the moment for me when I decided not to put off parenthood any longer.
Eleven months later and nine years ago today, I met the man who made my dreams come true.

Happy Birthday Dean. Thanks for making me a mom.

Sound of the Eno -Theme Thursday

2008-09-04T13:15:00.005-04:00

Stacy's Theme Thursday this week calls for Rest. A stroll by the nearby river is as restful as I can get. I took this video mainly for the audio, not necessarily for the visual. Please forgive the shaky hand since I was working with a handicap, I mean a toddler. You can read the full story at Triangle Mamas.

Life, Universe, Everything

2008-09-02T13:01:00.002-04:00

Back in the early days of our friendship, the days before our courtship, my husband and I would often find ourselves being quiet together. This comfortable silence would often end with the question, "What are you thinking about?" If I were the one asking, he would almost always answer, "Life, the universe, everything." And I always knew what he meant - everything yet nothing in particular.

And that is how I am feeling lately, which is why there has been no organized post. I have so many thoughts swimming around but no clear definition to any of them. There is no way to string my thoughts into words that are understandable to anyone but me. If I had a Twitter account, you might see phrases like this:

Went to Target. Did not find anything to make my life better. (one hour ago)

Took the kids to the Museum. Spent almost the entire time playing in the best sandbox in the Triangle area. Good people watching but no blog fodder. (one day ago)

Just found out that there will be a 20 year high school reunion this November. Should I travel the 900 miles for it? Do I care? What would I wear? (two days ago)

Just read this article that Erika linked. Says "alone time is the new heroin." Hoping to get my fix this weekend. (three days ago)

Just spoke with most of my extended family after my grandmother's memorial service. I would have liked to go but wasn't invited. (one week ago)

Trying hard to get my shit together. Can't find all of my shit. (everyday)

There are more but you get the idea. Each one of these thoughts is a window into a longer story, a richer blog post. And once I am able to wrap my words around them, you will be the first to know.

Theme Thursday - Summer Round Up

2008-08-28T10:50:00.003-04:00

It's hard to choose just a few favorite pictures to summarize this summer for Theme Thursday. Sure, I have a lot of pictures of the kids but nothing that really stands out as portrait quality. But when I think of what has been important to my family this summer, I think of our garden. It was a whole family endeavor that took over a significant portion of our front yard. We had many volunteer pumpkins that thrived despite our not having planted them ourselves- they were simply gifts from the compost we laid down. We had numerous tomatoes, a few eggplant, some pickling cucumbers, chard, cantaloupe, peppers and some acorn squash (another gift from the compost). As a whole family, we planted, watered, nurtured, harvested, shared, cooked, canned and pickled. In our garden this summer, we grew more than just magnificent sunflowers and ample produce, we grew some family memories. Those, you can't buy in the store.

Yes We Can - Susie on Politics

2008-08-27T10:36:00.002-04:00

You know how when you were a little kid, you always believed what your parents told you? Well, growing up, I was always told that I could be whatever I wanted. A doctor, a lawyer, a ballerina… Well, maybe not a ballerina but you get the idea. The point is, my parents never once talked to us about barriers to our dreams. Whatever is was that we wanted to do, we could do, if we tried hard enough.

And for their part, they worked hard at jobs they disliked, to make sure that my sisters and I got all the things in life that they did not. We went to private schools and then on to college. Where they couldn’t support with cash, they supported with food and other basic necessities. They always supported with encouragement. The message was always the same: “You can do it. Whatever you set your mind to, it can be done.”

While growing up, I think I believed this - at least mostly. I know I believed it when I gave my first solo performance. I know I believed it when I took my driver’s exam. I know I believed it when I sent in my graduate school application. And I believed it when I packed my car and drove off to a new life in North Carolina. But by my teen years, I only believed it to a certain extent. I believed I could do anything I wanted to do, as long as it was within my means.

In high school, I knew I could go to college. I knew that I could go to my state university, but not Yale or Harvard. In college, I knew that I could get good grades, but not maintain a 4.0. I knew I could be stellar, but in my own average way. In laying out my life’s path, I chose attainable goals – goals that I could meet (sometimes without too much work because I am lazy that way). I knew that I couldn’t change the world but that I could make at least some moments of it better for the kids with whom I worked. I’m not putting myself down - I just understood the simple fact that you can only aim so high based on your life circumstances. I understood the sad truth that there are barriers for people who are not born into money. My life’s opportunities have been vastly different from those of George Bush. For working class people, dreams and goals are two different things.

Now if my parents had the same understanding, I do not know. Sometimes I think they just said those things because they wanted them to be true for their children. If they truly believed them, then they would probably call me cynical. I think I have been realistic. Over the years, I stopped believing that this idea could be true for anyone - until I listened to Michelle Obama’s convention speech.

If you haven’t already, go and listen. It doesn’t matter what side of the political railroad tracks you live on, her words will make you believe that we can do whatever we want to do, if we try hard enough. This is the message that I heard while growing up and what I want my children to hear too. And she makes me believe it’s true, once again.

Tomato Fest

2008-08-26T11:08:00.003-04:00

There is a hint in the air, a signal that the end of summer is coming. Even though there is still a calendar month to go before the Equinox, and even though it will be warm here long after that, summer is still ending. How do I know? What makes me so sure? The garden, of course. The majestic sunflowers are drooping and drying on their twelve foot stalks. Only the birds can appreciate their current state. The pumpkin vines are dying and shrinking back into the ground now that their work is done. The tomato plants have stopped producing and are mere shadows of their former selves. And so, the end of summer means the end of all this bounty:

And what does one do with all this home-grown goodness at one time? Well, for a couple of weeks, it was all tomato, all the time. I made A LOT of gazpacho, eggplant parmigiana, tomato basil pasta and pizza... We also gave away many tomatoes to friends and neighbors.

And what to do with the leftovers? Well, not much makes you feel closer to your homesteading roots like canning. Behold...

Did you have a garden this summer? How did you enjoy the fruits of your labor?

Come Visit Me

2008-08-23T09:53:00.002-04:00

My inaugural post is up at Triangle Mamas. I hope you stop by to visit me and meet my new friends.

Theme Thursday - Wonder

2008-08-21T14:25:00.003-04:00

I wonder what the bees would do if our garden didn't have this:

I wonder what other wondrous entries there are today over at Stacy's.

Later Rory

2008-08-20T18:12:00.002-04:00

Have I told you about my niece Rory? (And yes, that‘s a blogonym.) Last week, Rory turned eighteen years old. Today, she leaves for college. This morning, I suddenly felt like I had run out of time.

Eighteen years ago, I held her newborn self in my arms. It was a sunny, breezy morning, just like we are having today. She was wearing an infant-sized sweat suit with my college insignia on it that I had purchased for her. It was too big for her, of course, but she was wearing it for my send-off. I gave her one last kiss on top of her head and held back my tears as I handed her back to my sister. “There’ll be lots of time to hold you later, “ I promised. And then I drove off to college.

And I did get to see a lot of her those first two years. I was often home on weekends and I’d care for her on school breaks. But it never seemed like enough. I looked forward to being out of school and having a job so I could spoil her properly. I wanted to be the kind of aunt that would always buy her things, the things that her parents might not want to get her. I wanted to be the kind of aunt who would always take her places that no one else wanted to take her. I was ready to buy prom dresses and brave coliseum concerts. Remember the Friends character Monica, when she held her newborn nephew Ben for the first time and said, “I’ll always have gum”? That was the kind of aunt I wanted to be, the cool one.

The same summer I graduated from college and moved back home, my sister and her family moved out of state. I went with them to help out for the first few weeks but I eventually had to go back home and get a job and figure my own life out. So I said “Goodbye” to Rory once again and vowed to spend more time together, later.

Then there were the jobs, graduate school, a fiancé that lived two hours away, the wedding to plan… Then it was my turn to move far away and start my own family. That “later time” kept getting pushed later and later. I missed birthday parties and first days of school. I missed Christmas mornings and beloved pet funerals. I missed school plays, concerts, and graduations. I missed her leaving for her first date and leaving for her prom. And now I’m missing her leaving for college.

There was one auntie gut-wrenching phone call where I had to explain to the then six year old Rory why I was missing her birthday party twelve hours away. “Maybe you can take an airplane ride,” she helpfully suggested in her sad little voice. But there was work and it wasn’t a good time to make the trip and we just bought a new house so, I missed it. I hated that I missed it, but I missed it. I’d make it up to her, later.

Eventually, the missing out part got a little easier, as I became even more absorbed in my own life. The distance was incorporated into our daily life expectations. We made the most out of every visit and still do. We make those visits as often as possible. I know I’ve had an impact. I know I have a relationship with Rory and her sister. In some ways, I am the aunt I’ve wanted to be. But I feel like I missed so much. And the missing part got hard again this year as Rory had her last school concert, when she graduated from high school, and today, as she packs her stuff for college.

On our last visit to her house, we spent a whole afternoon together. She took me to her favorite coffee house, her favorite clothing boutique. I met her (then) boyfriend. And we watched a lot of Gilmore Girls. I was struck by how much she is not a kid anymore and how much our relationship is about to change. We will email each other. I’ll hope to visit her at school. I’ll send her care packages of the little things no one else will think to send her. I'll visit her My Space page to see who and what are new in her life. I know I’ll be a part of it in some way. Only now, she’ll be the one saying, “later.”

Added to the Long List of Things I'd Never Thought I'd Say...

2008-08-18T17:34:00.001-04:00

"Who put the cantaloupe in the rain barrel?"

It's An Honor Just To Be Nominated...

2008-08-16T21:02:00.004-04:00

To blog is to hold dear the belief that each person has a unique story and a voice to be heard. To read blogs is to hear those stories, those voices. Every now and then, you might find one that you are drawn to - a familiar story, or perhaps a riveting one, a story that is well-crafted, or sometimes a story that is told in one long sentence without punctuation – it doesn’t matter really. What matters is that the voice comes through and is heard. And for the blogger, it is nice to know when you have been heard.

I want to sincerely thank Melissa at Green Girl in Wisconsin for awarding me the Arte Y Pico. Not only am I touched that she thought to give this to me but also because she called me “insightful.” Aw shucks, Green Girl, that is quite the compliment.

She explains that the award is " a token of one's style and substance as a blogger." Winners of the Arte Y Pico award must:

1) Choose five blogs that you consider deserve this award for creativity, design, interesting material, and contribution to the blogging community, regardless of language.

2) Publish the name of each award-winning author as well as a link to his or her blog.

3) Each award-winner must post a picture of the award and link back to the blog that has given the award.

4) Both the giver and the recipient of the award must link to the Arte y Pico blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.

5) You must post these rules.

So in the spirit the Arte Y Pico, I pass the award on to the following fellow bloggers:

To Elena at Stay at Home Mom Quickly Going Insane – When I first started blogging, Elena was welcoming and encouraging. She brought over all her own readers to my "house" to welcome me to the blogging neighborhood. Her writing is honest and witty, raw and charming – and funny as hell. For a good example, read her "Fuck Fear" post. She is going to publish a book one day.

To Marty at Don’t Take the Repeats - Marty (the blogger previously known as Canape) is as classy in person as she is on her blog. I have been reading Don’t Take the Repeats for about a year now and have always loved the sincerity in her writing. She is insightful, authentic and you will feel like you are reading the blog of a dear old friend. Marty has also just launched Triangle Mamas, a community blog that will unite and organize us mommy bloggers here in Raleigh, Durham and Chapel Hill.

To Stacy at Land of K.A. – Here’s a woman who does it all. Her blog is an inspiring mix of creativity including photography, cooking and sewing. She is the hostess of the photography-oriented Theme Thursday. I am learning a lot from her and I would truly like to be her when I grow up.

To Jenn at I Serve the Queens, for her beautifully written, poetic posts about parenthood, pain and hope. Read this post and tell me it doesn’t make you cry – I dare you. Here’s to all the dimes in our lives…

And right back at ‘cha Green Girl. I know giving back the award is probably not done, but I feel we might be kindred spirits, you and I. Green Girl is captain to the northern Team Testosterone (she has three boys of her own) so she totally understands why it is not advisable to use the “boys” bathroom in my house and why I can’t have anything nice.

Enjoy and thanks for hearing me.

*And you should definitely click on the link and take a look at it because it is really beautiful but for the life of me, I can't make it appear here. Someone please advise?

Theme Thursday - Antique

2008-08-14T10:51:00.003-04:00

I am learning so much about photography from Stacy's website. I have always been reluctant to do too much with my photos as far as processing ( I don't even know how to use Photoshop) and I hate to lose what I had originally captured with the camera. But today, with Stacy's "Antique" theme in mind, I took these pictures with the specific intention of processing them and exploring some of my computer's previously untouched features.

This week, my husband and I celebrate our 14th wedding anniversary. In observance of Theme Thursday and our special day, I present to you, my wedding gown. It seems like a lifetime ago that I fit into this dress, purchased at a vintage clothing shop in Boston. I doubt the dress was very old, but it was quite reminiscent of an Edwardian-style tea party dress. And while lace wasn't and isn't really my style, this dress fit me perfectly the first time I ever tried it on - and it was the first one I did try. So, it was meant to be. I loved how the dress fell close to my body and was so easy to wear on a hot, August day. I especially loved the detail of all this embroidery. I saved the dress all these years hoping that someone else will wear it one day - perhaps a niece or daughter-in-law. Stay tuned because no doubt I'll blog that when the day comes.

The macro setting with my finger holding down the flash brings out all it's antique-y glory. I switched the pictures to black and white, leaving one and using the antique setting for the others. I also blurred the edges.

What's the Breast Story?

2008-08-09T19:58:00.003-04:00

I think it would be fair to say that women have been breastfeeding their babies since the dawn of time. Forgive me if I don’t cite a reference on that one. And I think it is also safe to say that besides using car seats and putting babies to sleep on their backs, breastfeeding is the big parenting “must do” of our generation. (And luckily, if we choose not to breastfeed or simply can’t make it work, we have better alternatives to utilize than our mothers ever did.) But from the pamphlets in the OB’s office to even the commercials for heavily marketed formula, the message is that “Breast is Best.”

This hasn’t always been the case. My mother did not breastfeed her children. In the mid to late 60’s, formula was still considered to be the “scientific” way to feed babies. No one ever educated her on the benefits of nursing or even offered it as a choice. My mother-in-law told me that it was basically the same for her. Bottles and disposable diapers were symbols of status and convenience while breastfeeding was for the hippies on the commune. Even though La Leche League was organized since the mid-fifties, bottle-feeding was the norm from the Baby Boomers to Generation X. So when did that change? Probably about the same time that parents fought to have fathers in the delivery room. By the early 90’s, breastfeeding was back in fashion.

I remember this being a big deal for my sister when my niece was born. But she had to fight for it, begging for her baby to be brought to her and not be given a bottle in the hospital nursery. The women in my family couldn’t understand why she would even want to breastfeed. But almost a decade later, that attitude changed. By the time I gave birth for the first time in 1999, the hospital nurses simply assumed that I would be breastfeeding. Dean never once was offered a bottle or pacifier in the hospital and a lactation consultant checked in on me even though each of my nurses “helped” me with my technique. In fact, if I had ever made any other choice, I might have been made to feel like less of a mother. I left the hospital armed with a pump, nipple cream and a bag of formula (just in case). I also left with a baby that had gained weight before we were discharged to prove that I was doing it right. Breastfeeding for my peer group is not just the fashion, but also the expectation.

So why, in a society where it is understood that about 70 percent of mothers do indeed breastfeed their infants, do we still hear stories like this? Did we suddenly time warp back to 1967? Where does such discomfort with the most timeless, natural process come from? Could it be that we still consider baring one’s breasts an offensive act, like mooning? But Catherine Connors wasn’t mooning anyone – she was trying to feed her baby. And for most, a quietly suckling child is more socially acceptable than a hungry squalling one. So we are expected to breastfeed our babies, just not in front of anyone else?

What really surprised me about Her Bad Mother’s story is that another mother was the one giving the disapproving glare. I would never consider another parent to be someone I wouldn’t lift my shirt in front of to feed my child. In fact, after three kids, I doubt there is anyone who has met me that hasn’t seen me nurse a baby. Parks, museums, school, soccer practice and even the library – I’ve bared my breast almost everywhere I have been in the last nine years. And if I have gone to a private location to nurse, it has probably been for my own comfort rather than yours. I have even nursed in front of my own father (gasp) and if he can handle it, so can you.

This is not to say that I go topless just anywhere. I do carefully choose locations, again based on my own comfort and sometimes the comfort of those around me. I don’t nurse in front of the adolescent boys at the pool. I don’t nurse in the mall food court in front of the old men. I haven’t always breastfed in front of my dad – I usually leave the room and if he chooses to sit next to me on the couch while I’m nursing, then that is his choice. It’s taken him awhile to get to that point. And if I don’t know you well, I may ask you if you would be uncomfortable with my nursing in front of you. But I’d never think to ask a mom of young children who had probably breastfed as well.

No one has ever asked me to stop nursing. I have never been instructed to take my nursing child into a public restroom – a place regaled for bodily fluids coming out of the body rather than going in. Would you want to eat in there? Even if I weren’t pro-lactation, I would never make another woman feel like she had just done something unspeakable in front of me. While my almost nine-year-old son can’t stand to see me undressed, he is never uncomfortable seeing me breastfeed his brother – whatever the location. He understands the difference between nudity and nursing. One makes him uncomfortable while the other is natural process.

So at the close of World Breastfeeding Week, I offer up these challenges. Next time you see a young mom nursing a baby – give her a smile. Reminisce with your children about how they were fed – bottle, breast or both. And if you are currently lactating, take your child to a public location and proudly bare your breast – for moms like Catherine and for your baby.

Theme Thursday - Friday Night Eyes

2008-08-08T09:36:00.004-04:00

What would Thursday (or Friday morning for that matter) be without a Theme Thursday contribution? Now when Stacy called the challenge this week "Eyes," I'm guessing she probably meant human eyes but by now you know that Susie doesn't usually take the theme literally. So I offer you this: Hit Bull, Win Steak. Intrigued?

Last Friday evening, we participated in that summer rite of passage that is attending a baseball game. And if you live in the Triangle area of North Carolina or have ever seen the movie Bull Durham, then you understand what a full sensory experience it is to go see the Durham Bulls play. Besides the actual game action on the field, there is the loud organ music playing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" and the vendors walking around with steaming sweet-smelling funnel cakes. And there is so much to do!

For one thing, you get to share snow cones.

And perhaps contemplate your next career?

(Here is where the eyes come in) And feel safely watched over by this guy -

When the home team makes a home run, he really does do this (just like in the movie) -

The Bulls won, by the way. Those eyes were glowing red a lot that night.

Growing Up and Letting Go

2008-08-04T17:37:00.001-04:00

In these last few weeks, we have been coping with a big transition – the start of Kindergarten. It would be difficult to say whether this is a bigger change for Jess or for us, his parents. He was excited the first day, maybe a little nervous of how different it would be, but thrilled to be starting “big kid” school. We went to the open house where he walked around the classroom, wide-eyed and absorbing every detail. He let everyone who would listen know that he was indeed, ready.

But a new school equals new rules, new ways of doing things. Jess’ preschool was a very child-led environment, rich in hands-on activities and meaningful projects. To now be in a traditional, “sit-in-your-seat” style school is a huge change. Just after the first few days, Jess made it clear that this difference was “no fun” and in fact, boring. Also, the tight teacher-directed schedule leaves little time for making friends. Add to his disappointment the fact that he now is in school until 3:30 when he is used to going only half-day and you have a recipe for exhausted daily meltdowns. Sometimes these are on the way to school and sometimes for some random reason later in the day.

Obviously, this is not unexpected. Starting school is one of childhood’s biggest milestones and Jess is not well known for keeping his emotions in check during the best of times. With all the changes, he is left with few resources with which to cope. But my heart breaks a little every morning when I drop him off. I walk him (sometimes drag him) to his class and stand at the door while he goes through the motions of his morning routine. The first few days, I’d leave and come back to peek through the window to see how he was doing but had to stop that because it made me too sad. He would just be sitting in his seat looking lost. Jess is the type of spirit who always fits in – never having trouble making friends and finding something to do to make him happy. So to see him each day, looking sad and out of place was just too much for this mommy to handle and I’d walk back to my car wiping away tears. I feel like I’m leaving a piece of myself behind at that desk each day and I wonder if there will be anything left of me by Labor Day.

Dr. T. Barry Brazelton, the grandfatherly developmental pediatrician, calls these transitions “Touchpoints.” These are the steps backwards we take before we grow and make a leap forward. Children often regress in one area while they are working on another – like the toddler learning to walk who suddenly stops sleeping through the night. Touchpoints are phases, signs of growth and ultimately, they pass. And while Jess suffers through this touchpoint, I feel like I am having one of my own. I am holding on tighter before I can let go.

It would be easier to let go a little if I felt that Jess would be landing into a fabulous kindergarten experience. But as his parents, we are coping with our own disappointment. From the moment we entered the classroom during open house, I felt doubt washing over me. It’s not that there was anything specifically wrong with the classroom, there was just nothing very right with it. There was nothing outwardly creative or outstanding in the set-up but I also understand that some teachers start off the year with a clean and almost empty classroom and add to it as the curriculum progresses. And then Jess started to bring home the coloring sheets he has been completing at school for his “work” and my stomach turned over and my eyes rolled back in my head. Worksheets, especially those where you color in the lines, go against the very grain of my child-development trained philosophy.

Now I should also explain that I look at school from a consumer standpoint. The school offers a product and I if I don’t like it, I can theoretically choose another school. And because of my educational background, I am one choosy customer. In our area, we have the illusion of a lot of choice. We have our district public schools, our magnet schools, charter schools and private schools. Our first school experience was a charter school that we chose for Dean. In the beginning, it was a seamless transition from our preschool with small class size and a project-based curriculum. The school as a whole was not perfect but we had a great teacher and good first year in kindergarten. First grade, however, was a very different story. We had an awful teacher, unsupportive administration, and a child with emerging learning issues that were not being addressed at school. That began our adventure in home-schooling and a story for another long post. After many school visits, much soul-searching and number crunching, we settled on this school – our district school. A school with a great reputation and one of the reasons we bought a house in this neighborhood. And it has been great for Dean. He is on his way to having his second great year and our faith has been restored in the public school system.

So for Jess, the choice field was narrowed down considerably because who wants their kids separated into different schools, on different school calendars? And even if we were willing to do that, I burned the bridge back to the charter school. And even if I had the money for private school (a mere $12000 per child), it’s too late to apply and enroll for kindergarten. And while I certainly know people who try a new school each year for their child, I don’t want to be one of them. I like this school and am looking forward to Jess getting the same experience as Dean – but I fear he won’t get it this year in kindergarten.

And nothing irritates a mom more than not being able to “fix” a problem. There is no way to talk to the teacher about my concerns without making the problem worse. No teacher likes to be told how to do her job and there is no way not to have hurt feelings trickle down to my son. I could talk to the principle but I doubt, despite his being as fabulous as he is, that my concerns will lead to any change. My asking nicely for a more creative approach to teaching will not stop the flow of worksheets in my child’s direction. I might as well ask for more adequate parking at the same time. In fact, I have to be very careful whom I speak to about this. Of the few friends I have in this school, one of them is friendly with the teacher in question and neither of them understands why I even have a problem with the curriculum. And while I believe strongly in my stance on this issue, I can see where these other moms think I am being a pretentious ass and why don’t I just enroll him in the over-priced private school already.

My husband is ready to pull Jess out and have me home-school him for this year. He has absolute faith in my ability to put my money where my mouth is and do a better job teaching Jess than his current situation will. But I’m not sure home-schooling will meet all of Jess’ needs either. Home-schooling takes discipline and organization – not my strongest suits. And I’m not sure my little extrovert would be happy alone with his mom and his baby brother for most of the day. Our five-week summer did not go very well in that regard. I don’t want to pull him out of school in knee-jerk haste. I also don’t want to have to contemplate any more change than necessary.

There just doesn’t seem to be any clear solution here. I want to do what is best for Jess, but it also has to work for the whole family. I want him to be happy in school. I want him to love learning. I want him to get more from school than just doing what he needs to do to make the teacher happy. But part of letting your kids grow up is accepting that as a parent, you can’t fix everything. And I may not be able to fix this. This may be a year that he just has to get through – I just hate that it has to happen this early in his education.

So for now, I’ll keep watching to make sure that Jess’ creative spirit doesn’t get lost in the worksheet shuffle. I’ll proudly keep displaying his class work on the refrigerator like it’s a lovely piece of art. And I’ll keep reminding him that he doesn’t always have to color in the lines. And I’ll try to let go, just a bit.

Come As You Are

2008-07-31T13:20:00.004-04:00

Theme Thursday this week was a hard one in which to participate. Stacy chose "Fashion" as this week's theme and I think we have established that a fashionista I am not. I'd like to say that I have a few classic pieces that make up my wardrobe but that would be a euphemistic way to say that I haven't purchased anything new or remotely stylish in years. But for Susie's house, that is the fashion. Anything else would look entirely out of place.

So when you come visit, here are some fashion rules to follow:

Bring your hat and your sunscreen. Don't be afraid to get wet.

Costumes are optional.

Never comb your hair.

Don't forget your fishing gear. It may rain so you can't be afraid to get wet.

And finally, shirt stains and dark circles under the eyes are required.

Happy Thursday everyone. What is your fashion?

Simple Things

2008-07-29T16:32:00.002-04:00

There are some days when I feel like I have it all together. Those are the days where the kids get to school on time, errands gets run, bills get paid, a toddler gets adequate attention, a dog gets walked, and a nice dinner gets cooked. Bonus points are given if that dinner gets eaten with little complaint and laundry gets folded before bed. Those are the days that I feel like I am a capable, accomplished mom. A good mom, even. Albeit tired, but good.

Then there are days when I feel like I am a disorganized mess. Those are the days that I hide behind my piles of dirty clothes and scattered toys. I try to get something done, anything – but I just spin my wheels. I get distracted by interruptions and wastes of time. Not much gets accomplished, no one gets what they need and my husband is asked to pick up dinner on the way home. Those are the days I feel like a failure as a mother, wife and human.

Today falls somewhere in between. The kids got to school on time, with out any yelling. I was early to Logan’s doctor’s appointment. From there, I went to get trained on how to do some volunteering for the Obama campaign – with a toddler in tow. I even found downtown parking after circling the block less than a dozen times (believe me when I say this is a true accomplishment). Then we went to the grocery store to pick up a few things that we forgot to get yesterday when we were there. And now, dinner is bubbling gently away in the slow cooker.

Now I can tell you what is wrong with the day but I don’t want to take away the good feeling that came over me while writing down today’s accomplishments. So let’s save that for another post and leave this one right where it is.

Theme Thursday - Summer (Birthday) Fun

2008-07-24T13:56:00.005-04:00

I am taking a slight digression from Land of KA's Theme Thursday because today is a special day - Logan's second birthday.

We have a few traditions in our family and one that started with Dean is to look over the baby book together as a family. Each child's baby book chronicles pregnancy, birth and a few milestones. Dean's is very detailed with a calendar depicting each stage of his pregnancy from peeing on a stick to when my water broke. There are ultrasound pictures, cards from friends, a list of baby shower gifts, pictures of me smiling in my hospital room before my labor went to hell. All the tiny baby hospital keepsakes are there as well, including the hat he was already wearing when I held him for the first time. And then, pf course, there are pictures of our new baby and newly formed family.

Jess has a baby book too. His is considerably smaller than Dean's. The ultrasound pictures are there, minus of pregnancy diary. The newborn keepsakes are there, minus the ones that accidentally got thrown away. And there are plenty of pictures of our new tiny love so I let go of the guilt a long time ago that it would never have the same detail of Dean's.

Since Logan is the third baby, there is no baby book (yet). There are stowed away items to be put in a book - someday. And there are hundreds of pictures still safely in the depths of the computer. You saw one of those last week. But there is no baby book to look over as I tell him the story of the day he was born. But all is not lost - a mommy blogger I am, after all. Note: I can't take photo credit for all of these.

Modern technology gave us very clear ultrasounds.

This was Logan's infant persona - calm, serene and full of milk.

Preparing to leave the hospital is exhausting work.

This is still his favorite book.

First giggle, caught on film.

My mom made this hat for Dean and now Logan gets to wear it. Merry First Christmas.

Look who can sit up unsupported and properly pose for pictures!

This is how Logan spent his first birthday party.

Once walking, keeping up with Dad and brothers became more easy. Now we have to keep up with him.

Happy Birthday Baby!

Who Does Susie Look Like?

2008-07-20T15:57:00.002-04:00

Well, I'm no Superman, I'll tell you that.

Madame Queen posted this little challenge to her readers and I took it. I'm not sure if I should be amused or insulted by my results. You upload a photo of yourself and you get matched with ten celebrities that you look like, you know, if you squint really hard. Most of my "matches" were men. Seriously. Have I really let myself go that much or did I just choose a terrible picture? Now I half expected a picture of Jamie Lee Curtis to come up because I have often been told that I look like her. (And I hope to God that I look half that good when I am her age.) But because I know you are curious, here are some of my results:

Shirin Ebadi. A Nobel Peace Prize winner, I suppose I could do worse. Maybe I will look just like this in twenty years but to be honest, I have more gray hair than she does.

Jason Biggs. Now I wouldn't kick him out of bed but I have a lot less facial hair (I hope). I spent some time tweezing last night just in case.

Now this one is flattering, Alison Lohman. I've never heard of her before and I think she's half my age. Also, I have brown hair - other than that, she's a dead ringer.

Runner up match - Gary Busey, I kid you not. Maybe before my coffee in the morning, I don't know. I repeat, my hair is brown. So are my eyes. Besides, I would never ever wear leather.

Finally, my closest match - Zach Braff. Separated at birth? I just don't know what to think about this. I mean, he's cute, don't get me wrong, but I don't even have that sweet little chin cleft thing. And he was way better hair than me.

Theme Thursday - UnRefined

2008-07-17T11:29:00.005-04:00

Stacy had an interesting challenge for us this week - to post those pictures depicting the raw (or shot in RAW) and unrefined. Well my basic skills prevent me from taking the leap into RAW photography just yet but unrefined describes my family perfectly, really. Perhaps it's because he turns two next week, but what spoke to me from my archives was this picture of Logan's birthday and Jess meeting him for the first time. What could be more raw than a newborn baby and the awed expression on his big brother's face?

Susie on Dieting

2008-07-15T10:24:00.004-04:00

Ok, I know that I said that I was not going to get hung up on the weight loss. The Good Mood diet is about feeling better, not losing weight - blah, blah, blah. But if the author hadn't promised I would lose weight in the first week, I might not have even stepped on the scale. So after one week, I did step on the scale. Drum roll, please.... TWO POUNDS.... GAINED. Not lost, people - gained. This reminds of the time I tried Atkins, wooed by the whole "you can lose 14 pounds in the first two weeks so it's worth all the trouble" line. I gained five pounds and swore off dieting for awhile.

Now, that is not to say that I have not had success in the pound-dropping arena. Just before I got pregnant with Jess, I lost ten pounds without even trying. I started eating breakfast and was busy with a two-year old. We were living closer to downtown and walked everywhere. (Then I got pregnant and gained 50 pounds that never did come all the way off.) A few summers later, I tried the Step Diet and lost seven pounds. But that was a full-time job because that diet is based less on what you eat/don't eat and more on how much you exercise. I couldn't keep up the two-plus hour walks every evening so I abandoned the plan. And then I got pregnant with Logan.

So what is to be learned from all of this other than weight loss leads to pregnancy? Diets suck, that's what. So you know what I am going to do right now? I'm going to go put some butter on my toast - that's what will make me feel good.

What Has Susie Been Up To?

2008-07-14T15:00:00.002-04:00

Trying to crack hairdresser code. You heard about Logan’s first haircut and how well that went so I thought I’d take the other two boys for a little trim. Jess was thrilled. He loves to get his hair cut and if I don’t take him when he feels he needs one, he cuts it himself. In fact, the front of his hair was finally growing in from his last attempt this spring. So up into the chair he went and I explained that I only wanted the sides and the back trimmed and to leave the top the way it is. She started cutting and just didn’t stop. Jess is happy with his military-style but I of course, am left wondering what language exactly do I need to speak to get hair cut the way that I want. I mean, why ask me what I want anyway? He’s going to Kindergarten, not BOOT CAMP. Geeeez.

Then it was Dean’s turn. Now Dean has been sporting a trendy surfer-boy shag that looks really good on him. And I promised that we would only get it trimmed so that he could see and not change the style at all. He flat out refused to get in the chair. This annoyed me at first because he used to do this when he was four and for an entire year his hair never got cut. But after looking at Jess’ hair, I really couldn’t blame him. So we left it alone for the time being. After all, it didn’t really look that bad. But when we got home, Dean cut the front of his hair himself so he wouldn’t have to go back to the salon. This was a very bad idea - I’m sure you can imagine why. “But this is what you wanted!” he protested. I countered with, “But don’t you see, now you have to go so they can correct this?” We haven’t yet. You can see why I have little faith that his hair will get cut in a way that we have requested.

And don’t even get me started on my own hair. If you know me at all, you know how I have been know to walk out of a salon looking like a displaced 80’s pop star. One time, I cried all the way home because I took my long, thick post-partum hair to get trimmed and came out looking like Reba McEntire circa 1980-something. Seriously, feathers? It’s one thing when I leave the house with my hair looking terrible because this is the South and it’s humid here. No one can blame me. But walking out of salon looking like I meant to do that with my hair is just embarrassing. I am old enough to know that hairstyle is out of date, not “retro.” And I’m young enough to give a damn, thank you very much.

Prepping the Kids for the First Day of School. I spent an hour yesterday filling out all the forms that go with the first day of school. Mind you, I just filled out a tree’s worth of paper for kindergarten registration but apparently our school system does not own a copy machine and I had to refill out all the same forms for the classroom, PE teacher, and cafeteria. I also had to fill out three different forms for each child regarding how they are getting to and from school each day. And a fourth one for emergency closings – this does not include the one required by the bus company. And then I filled out several forms all asking how to get in touch with me in case of an emergency. Mind you, this info is required on all of the other forms. Not the most efficient system. Condensing all the info into one form and then making copies for all the appropriate departments would save time and resources. Just a suggestion.

After the paperwork was done, we went through the supply lists like we were having a scavenger hunt and packed our backpacks with our almost $300 worth of school supplies - but not before labeling each and every item.

Pruning Back the Piles. Taking advantage of camp and babysitters, I have recently taken some time to de-clutter and reorganize a few things. I even cleaned off the top of the fridge, which oddly gave me a huge emotional boost. And if that wasn’t fabulous all by itself, some charitable organization called saying they would be in the neighborhood the next day and if I had any donations to please leave them on the front porch. To which I replied, “Why yes, my new best friend, but please pick up my stuff before my kids see it and schlep it all back into the house.”

Reading this Book. Translation: dieting. The title caught my eye because I feel like my emotions are completely out of control most of the time. I have no patience for my children unless they are doing everything that I want them to do every minute of the day, and really, what are the chances of that? I feel like I am PMS’ing all the time and I’m tired of feeling like crap. So I’m willing to try something that promises to improve my mood. The principles of the diet are sensible and easy to follow. It’s called balanced nutrition. The key is to spread out your intake of carbs, fats and proteins out over the entire day. It’s not as restrictive as some diets I have explored and I’m not feeling hungry at all, probably because I am eating all the time. It’s a lot like the diet I followed when I was pregnant which is really the last time I remember feeling good. But just like when I was pregnant, feeding me is now a full-time job that costs a lot of grocery money. I’m not sure if I am in a better mood or not (Dean says I am) but I do feel like I am doing something healthy for me. Now the diet is also supposed to promote weight loss but I’m not hanging a lot of hope on that. The last time I purposefully dieted, I gained several pounds. I have pretty much maintained this same weight (with the exception of being pregnant) since my second child was born so I don’t see that changing much. I’m right at the one-week mark so I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

Catching Up on All of You. I’ve been trying to catch up on all my usual blogs and some new ones. But you’d be surprised to find out how many times I might get interrupted trying to read a one-paragraph post so I don’t always comment. If I haven’t left a comment on your blog yet, it’s just because I was distracted by something noisy or I haven’t thought of something witty to write.

Speaking of comments, I was reading all the comments left for Erika regarding this post. I love reading the comments and this post’s comment section did not disappoint. I found about 20 people I have flagged to go back and read. And while I risk giving the incident anymore thought and time since it already got way more than it deserves, I just have to ask, “Why?” I agree with a lot of what folks were saying – that you can’t be nice all the time and still be authentic, that you can be not nice while not being hurtful for no good reason, that you can have your own opinion and twitter it all you want, and so forth and so on… So Blogger A can totally share her opinion that Blogger B is a poser – but what was the motivation do so? Can someone less naïve than me explain? Was it for attention? Was it for the blog traffic? Was it just to agitate the waters and provoke some thoughtful commentary? I don’t get it.

One of the reasons we blog and read blogs is for the connection to people like ourselves. We search for that commonality. So with over 70 million blogs out there, undoubtedly there are some that are similar in style and those are the ones to which we are drawn. No one has the market cornered on wit, style or clever, my friends. You can blog about whatever you want and I can choose to read it or click away. Ah, America.

Theme Thursday - Celebration

2008-07-10T12:55:00.002-04:00

Celebrate the Love

When my husband and I first started dating, he would write me love notes in the most unexpected places. The first one was written on a small piece of tree bark. It had been left on the desk where he was studying one night. While we were talking, I picked it up absentmindedly and fiddled with it for several minutes before unrolling it to find the simple message, "I Love You." I still have that first note somewhere, even though I'm sure it has disintegrated into dust. This latest one was written on the driveway earlier this week. It took me awhile to notice it as well. It's nice to know that after sixteen years, he still wants to write me love notes and that he can still surprise me with them.

Happy Love Thursday and Celebration Thursday.

Bye Bye Baby (Hair)

2008-07-08T10:00:00.005-04:00

It was time. The heat rash on the back of his neck told me so. The fact that he kept pulling it off his face and neck into a ponytail was a sign as well. So this weekend, with the help of my visiting sister, we took Logan for the Big Boy Haircut. Armed with the camera and a handful of lollipops, we went to the same salon that all my friends take their kids thinking it would be the place that would be most experienced and least annoyed with toddlers. He was fine for the first half and lost patience with the sitting and the combing right about the same time I decided that he needed more cut off.

Unless he was the new spokes-baby for Dutch Boy Paints, I couldn't leave his hair like that. The stylist worked painfully slowly and was quite crabby with me. She kept asking me how I wanted it cut and finally I snapped and told her to just CUT IT already. It's not like she was going to give me exactly what I asked for anyway and I don't really see myself trying to get his hair cut again anytime soon. It was hard enough for me to accept getting it cut in the first place and then to hold my screaming toddler while trying to give instruction, I just couldn't take all the stress. It didn't help that Logan was looking in the mirror and pulling at his now short hair crying "Put it back on!" He calmed down at the very end when she realized his issue was the comb and she switched to a brush. He slept off the trauma in the car and proudly showed everyone the new do when we got home. I, however, needed more recovery time.

I'd like to say that I would have felt better if I had taken him to more toddler-friendly place, or if I had gotten a sample of his cut hair before it had hit the floor and had gotten mixed up with all the other hair but the truth is - it was really hard to let go of that hair. Luckily, his Big Boy Haircut actually makes him look more like a baby to me than all that long baby hair. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Theme Thursday - Linear

2008-07-03T08:54:00.006-04:00

Family Tree

Stacy's theme this week is "linear." Technical difficulties prevented me from posting my picture of a tree - so I took a different angle and am going with family lines instead. My father has been scanning old family photos and emailing them to me one by one. The other night, we emailed back and forth - enjoying a virtual family reunion of sorts. Honestly, collecting my family tree in photos is one of my favorite things to do. I can't take the photo credit, obviously, but here is my Dad, in 1959 with his parents and his grandfather. The back row is my Grandfather, Great-grandfather, and father. The front row is my great-aunt Eileen (now 94 years old) my grandmother and my uncle.

Some Updates

2008-07-01T15:52:00.001-04:00

The baby birds that have appeared here as eggs and then here at two weeks, are baby House Finches. They now have feathers and are starting to explore the area immediately outside of their nest. They will take flight soon, probably by the end of week. The parents are already looking to the future by checking out the real estate in the twin planter across the porch. Before long, there will be a new nest, new eggs and new babies. There doesn’t seem to be much sentimentality about this brood. There are no baby books, no recorded milestones, no sadness over lost babyhood. Just the simple cycle of life observed – babies born, babies grown, babies taking flight on their own.

Speaking of being sentimental, the lost notebook has been found. My husband pulled it out of the junk drawer where he had placed it for me. The fact that I have a junk drawer is just one of the many bits of evidence that prove I am turning into my mother.

And the friend who took advantage of my good nature and got her two minutes of fame in the blogosphere, returned the favor last week by hosting Dean for an eleven hour play date. He had a great time.

Thanks for all the supportive comments that you have left when I was in Mommy Meltdown mode. The last half of the past week and this week have felt more manageable due to play dates, babysitters and camp. I really did not want to have the boys over-scheduled this summer but then they ended up under-scheduled – which was no good for anyone. I felt awful for my lack of patience and the striking realization that I’m just not the type of mom who can have all three of her children home together for too many days in a row. And by too many, I mean three. Possibly four if a weekend is included. They really require more stimulation than what I am able to provide – I’m really just not that exciting.

Nor am I in control of my children or my emotions. I had just made peace with how much television my kids were watching until last night when Jess was helping me with dinner. He had just finished watching Fetch with Ruff Ruffman and if you are familiar with the show, you will get this reference. Last night, we were making pizza and I was feeling a bit frustrated with all my “help” and the fact that my husband was not home yet from work. We came up short on the cheese until I dug around the fridge and found more. “Yeah, “ Jess exclaims, “Mom, you get bonus points for finding the cheese even when you are crabby!” Well, at least I know I am appreciated for my great skill of finding things.

And a final thought to leave with you: Now that I have been blogging for a few months, this seems like a nice time to evaluate this blog’s direction. A few weeks ago, a friend and I were discussing what I should do with the rest of my life. She suggested I start a blog. I laughed a bit and confessed that I actually do have a blog right here in my secret corner of the blogosphere. She, pointing out my degree and expertise, recommended that I write more about parenting and child development. Laughable, I know, after those two aforementioned posts but still a possibility for the future. When two of my children are in the care of the public school system for more than six hours a day, I may feel like more of an “expert.” But until then, what sort of topics would you like to read more about from me?

Theme Thursday - What I Want

2008-06-26T12:11:00.009-04:00

Stacy's theme this week is "What I want..."

I want -
to feel satisfied, even when I am not going anywhere...

to feel contentment...

to feel peace.

What about you?

Ah, the Sweet Days of Summer and Brotherly Love

2008-06-20T20:25:00.003-04:00

I’ve been trying to think really hard about how to present this post. I am afraid that once I start writing, I may open up a Pandora’s box of complaints. I don’t want this to be a bitching blog and for me, complaints are like eating potato chips in that I can’t stop with just one. So I am taking a leap of faith in all of you while I share what is on my mind this very minute.

It is week two of summer vacation and the first full week having all three of my sons at home with me. As usual, I had big plans of daily outings, craft projects and tons of time for my boys to simply play and be boys. But by mid-day Tuesday it became clear that by the time school starts again, I will have at least one less child. It seems the two oldest should have been named Cain and Abel and will likely kill each other soon. The youngest would just like to be part of the fray, if he doesn’t kill Abel before Cain.

Each morning starts off the same: filled with potential. With my full mug of coffee, the day is laid out before us like an open road and a full tank of gas. The sun is shining, the humidity is low and the temperature is reasonable. Then the bickering starts. And I know things will be better if we just Get.Out.Of.The.House. But just the idea of getting three kids ready to go anywhere seems like an insurmountable task. And I wonder if it is rewarding their negative behavior to even take them on an outing. Who wants to be out in public with three crabby children anyway, especially when you are feeling particularly crabby as well?

Last week, we had to go to Target to buy presents for the not one, but two, birthday parties we were to attend on Saturday. So due to my lack of child care and better judgment, I took the two younger boys and off we went. Now shopping for toys for other people’s children is hard enough (will this mom ever speak to me again if I buy play-dough?) but add a toddler who has his own agenda, like jumping out of the cart, and a rising kindergartner who keeps picking out the $40 gifts, and a mom who might be slightly over-caffeinated and pressed for time… Well, you get the picture. At one point, a total stranger laughed out loud when I was hissing (too loudly, apparently) to Jess, “This is not about you. We are here to but a gift for your friend!”

Tuesday, it took us until about 3:00 to get out. We went to the pool and twenty minutes later, Dean and Jess had climbed out of the water to argue over a lounge chair. “Why aren’t you swimming?” I ask. And they say, “We’re done.” Well being the type who thinks your stay in the water should be longer then, let’s say, how long it took to get everyone into their swimsuits, I told them to either swim or sit. Logan and I were not done. But they continued to argue and I became Harpy Mom. Why is that my children do not seem to think I mean what I say unless I use the same tone of voice that Carol Anne heard coming from her haunted closet?

Back in February, when all of North Carolina was booking their kids in summer camps, I argued with my husband about over-scheduling the boys. He felt I should be finding something for each week and I felt the boys should be here with me where I can bask in the beauty of their childhood. After all, I am a stay-at-home mom – I don’t NEED camps for the child-care. And children should have plenty of time to build forts in the back yard, sell lemonade, and chase fireflies. It seemed silly, self-indulgent even, to farm them out for $200 per week. So, as a compromise, Dean was registered for two weeks of camp and Jess, who’s never done a day camp before, was registered for one. There were two weeks we were planning on being away (which, we are now not) and that left one week of their being home together before school starts mid-July (hurray for year-round school). Are you laughing at me yet? What was I thinking?

Well Jess is bitterly disappointed to find out that he doesn’t get to be with friends every minute of the day. No, because mommy wanted to keep her precious baby home with her for the last few weeks before he goes away to big kid school ALL day! Go ahead; ask me how many minutes are left before the start of all day kindergarten. And Dean is more than happy to play on the computer all day. And Logan continues to try and kill me with sleep deprivation.

So, I guess I’m saying this isn’t going the way that I’d intended. The kids are watching TV more than I’d like to admit. I am yelling more than I’d like to admit. And I am using phrases that I am sure you would never see in any of my college child development text books. I am not proud of myself at all. It’s a cycle I am hoping to break. After I get a break, that is. Because I think that might be at the root of our problem – the constantness of staying home with kids is getting to me. It is stressful – more stressful than my most stressful day at work.

And I am not blaming my children (entirely). Today it became clear to me that I am feeling snappish more than they are triggering my snappishness. I am unmotivated, uninspired. I know how I want to be with them, but I’m tired and there is no opportunity to recharge. And I have moments where I just want someone to come and pick them all up and take them away for an hour. But no one is coming and I chose this.

My mother stayed home with us because for her generation, this is what mothers did. She didn’t get to choose. But she didn’t complain and she didn’t count down the minutes until school started (at least not out loud, anyway). There were no summer day camps that I know of - either they were unavailable or unaffordable, or both. Play dates (not that we called them that) were few and there weren’t many places to go on daily outings. My dad worked nights so my mother had to keep us quietly occupied during the day and was alone with us all night. She didn’t have much in the way of back up. If she was unhappy about it, she didn’t take it out on us. And while she did have extended family all in the same zip code (which I do not) she didn’t often call them in for help.

So what is my problem? My husband says that I do not give myself enough credit. He gets that it is hard. He knows that I am tired. He is my cheerleader. But I feel bad complaining to him. He likes to think that he goes off to work in the morning and I’m living the June Cleaver life here. And for the most part, I am, minus the pearls. But I’m pretty sure June never used the “f “ word when asking the Beaver what his fifth meltdown was about. Of course, June had the benefit of being a fictional character and I am as about as real as they come. And that reality isn’t always a pretty thing. This week has really made me question my ability to do this.

I do not have easy children, this I know. Parenting even easy children has its difficult moments, this I know too. But I do think my kids deserve better than Harpy Mom. Especially since I am living my dream. Really, I would be less happy if I had to balance a job outside the home with trying to be the mom I want to be to my kids. I just need to find the balance here in my home so I could be the mom I want to be. Wish me luck and let me know how you recharge.

Theme Thursday - Childhood

2008-06-19T08:37:00.007-04:00

One of our dear friends has a bumper sticker that says, "Childhood is a journey, not a race." I think this photo is a happy reminder not to rush.

Can you read the Coritz quote on the back of this shirt? It says, "It is only fair that each child be cherished."

Happy Childhood Thursday.

Father's Day - the Blog Version

2008-06-16T09:18:00.002-04:00

I knew the day was coming. I have been trying hard to think of what to do. But in the end, my small brain couldn’t handle the pressure and I just didn’t do anything. I’m talking about Father’s Day, of course. By mid-morning, I was completely frustrated with my lack of inspiration and my husband’s obvious disappointment. He wasn’t surprised, mind you. The Mother’s Day gifts to our moms are still sitting on the kitchen counter waiting to be sent. Nor can he look down on me too much, Oh, He-Who-Once-Forgot-My-Birthday. The problem is that I get so caught up in the day-to-day tasks and I just can’t really focus on anything extra. So, I finally threw up my hands and said to him, “Well, it would have been easier to pull off this Father’s Day business if we didn’t have any children!”

To that, he stormed off to do the groceries. I stayed behind to rally the troops into making a Happy Father’s Day banner and upgrading our home from “pig-sty” to “lived-in.” When he returned, I felt even more horrible. The tears started to fall as I was putting away the groceries. He did the groceries on Father’s Day. A day that should be about him and there he was doing all the things he always does – for his family. This man who does so much for me and his sons, deserves better. And I let him down.

Turning to the one thing I knew I could do, I gave him this.

Dear Husband,

In the past, we have celebrated Father’s Day in a variety of ways. There have been hand-made gifts from the kids, cards, poems, rain barrels, and special foods. But on this Father’s Day, I screwed up. For lack of a better idea of what to do for you, I ended up not doing anything. But not presenting you with a gift or breakfast in bed does not mean that I don’t honor your being the father of my children. I express myself best with either baked goods or the written word. And since it is too hot to bake, I wanted to show you all those little and big things that you do for our family do not go unnoticed. So here is a list, although not exhaustive, of those things that I appreciate so very much:

Coming home after a long day of work and still giving yourself to the kids.
Wanting to be successful at your job because that is one of ways you take care of us.
Doing household chores and not considering it “helping” me out.
Taking care of the kids but not calling it babysitting.
Greeting me every morning with a cup of coffee.
Knowing exactly how I take my coffee and that no one, even me, can make it like that.
Worrying about the gutters, the moisture in the crawl space and the condition of the roof.
Exploring your primal instinct to provide for your family by doing the groceries.
Remembering to bring the recyclables to the curb every other Wednesday.
Understanding my need for space and finding ways to give it to me.
Walking the dog first thing in the morning and last thing at night.
Mowing the lawn and watering the plants.
Having an infinite amount of patience with our children, especially when mine is used up.
Respecting all of my contributions to the up-keep of our family and household.
Being such a good sport about Cub Scout and school activities.
Resisting the urge to give me a hard time about tearing the front end off the mini van.
Packing the lunch boxes every morning, even if it means having to search for them first.
Driving the kids to school even though it makes you late for work.
Surprising me, often.
Calling me just to say, “I love you.”
Coming home from work and not asking, “What’s for dinner?”
Cheerleading me through my daily life.
Reading to our sons almost every night.
Finding me fun.
Saying that I’m beautiful when I’m having a moment where I think I am not.
Being open-minded and level headed all of the time.
Loving my parents.
Doing all the driving when we take road trips.
Maintaining your own interests and finding ways to share them with us.
Toting a toddler whenever we go hiking.
Being my partner in parenthood.

Thank you, my love. Happy Father’s Day.

Fifteen Years in a Nutshell

2008-06-13T16:54:00.002-04:00

What, two posts in one day?! Is this Susie’s blog? Why, yes, it is. I have been tagged for a meme, thank you Canape. So here it is, the last 15 years of my life summed up in a nutshell. Let’s see, 15 years ago brings us back to 1993... {insert wavy, blurry lines here}

1993 –This was the summer I started grad school and got engaged. I lived in Boston and worked as a live-in nanny all while having classes, a job and an internship.

1994 – I graduated from grad school, got married, and moved to Kentucky. There I worked a variety of jobs until I finally landed my first job in my chosen career.

1997 – I came to North Carolina for what I thought was my dream job.

1999 – This is the year that I became a Mom. This is also the year that I had my last night of restful sleep.

2002 – I gave birth to my second son. My husband was laid off from one job and started a new one. We bought a new house and moved. Did I say 2002? That was actually just December of that year.

2003 – After a valiant effort to maintain our working schedule of my husband working days and my working nights with two kids (one of whom would not take a bottle and would starve himself until I came home), I left my job to stay home with my kids and re-evaluate my life.

2005 – I seriously thought about going back to work by applying and interviewing for jobs. Then I realized that I was not cut out for balancing the kid’s school schedules, childcare and my own job. So instead, I started my own business. And then, surprise, I’m pregnant!

2006 – I gave birth to my third son. I tried to paint everything pink until I finally accepted the fact that I live in a frat house. Seriously, even the dog has a penis.

2007 – The year I home-schooled. There is a post about this coming when the symptoms of post-traumatic stress subside.

2008 – This is the year that I decided to take my blog obsession to a pro-active level by launching my own. You can learn more about me by reading my inaugural post.

Now I tag the lovely Elena at 1blueshi1 (obviously), Susan at Toddler Planet, Stacy at the Land of K.A. (because the only thing I know about her is that she takes really beautiful pictures), Karen at For The Love of Pete (because I once left her a really nice comment but on someone else’s blog), and anyone else who would like to chime in on this one.

Theme Thursday - Come Friday Morning

2008-06-13T09:12:00.007-04:00

I've decided that when I do a Theme Thursday with a photo, I want post a photo that I took the same day. So last evening, when the smoke cleared from the forest fire 200 miles away, I captured these. I never noticed before how many plants have heart-shaped leaves. Happy Love Thursday.

Every Spring, I hang flowering baskets on our front porch and every Spring, some opportunistic birds make one their home. I took this picture by holding the camera paparazzi-style over my head into the basket. Haven't identified the species of bird yet, but we know this is not a robin's nest. I'll have to keep you posted. Happy Wildlife Thursday.

Etiquette Question

2008-06-11T11:37:00.001-04:00

The other night, I had a dream. I was attending some type of conference out in the woods hosted by some of my favorite bloggers. We were taking cooking lessons because I imagine this is what one does at a blogging conference (?). The setting was beautiful and serene, complete with a pond and never-ending sunset. At one point, there was a receiving line with our hosts and all the attendees were able to pass through and introduce themselves. I had a speech prepared for my turn – “Hi, I’m Susie. I’ve been reading your blog since, like, forever…” You know, nothing too gushing. But when my turn came, all I could muster was “Oh my gosh! You’re Catherine Newman!” Even in my dreams, I am such a dork.

So, why did I get all 1960’s teenage girl crying and fainting when she spots Davy Jones? If you are the type to put any stock in dream interpretation, I see bloggers, especially the ones whom I aspire to be more like, as celebrities. But I’m not talking about how popular they are or how much money they can generate. I’m talking about how they can put words together in that way that makes me say “Yes, exactly!” It’s about how a story is crafted versus simply blogged. It’s the ability to invoke some familiar emotion, the ability to verbally express the often unspeakable that I find so hard to attain. This is what I admire. This is what makes me swoon.

But if you are more of the type who doesn’t take stock in dream interpretation and you think something just is what it is, then let me present this real life moment. A few weeks ago, I had made a pilgrimage to Trader Joe’s. {For those of you who are not in the know, imagine a grocery store cheaper than Whole Foods but more fun than Kroger’s.} There was a mom shopping with her toddler and she looked vaguely familiar to me. As we parallel strolled up and down the aisles, I half-wondered from where I might know her. Not from school, not from toddler music class, from the hospital maybe? Did I simply just see her at the museum or some other regular destination? Somewhere between the chips and the vitamins, her child pushed their cart into my behind and it hit me (the cart and the connection). This mom is a blogger! I used to read her blog on BabyCenter and I recognized her and her child from the picture. In the checkout lane, I found myself smiling at her and her toddler the same as I would if they were friends that I had run into. I thought about introducing myself. She would appreciate the recognition, no? Who wouldn’t want to hear how much they are liked and appreciated?

But something stopped me. Two things, actually. For one, I didn’t want to sound like my dorky dream-self, gushing like a schoolgirl. And two, it appeared she was having a tough time. She had to go back out to the car for her wallet, she was shopping with a toddler, and I started to wonder if this were really the moment she wanted to be recognized. I pictured her blogging about the moment later – “And OMG, some crazy woman came up to me in the grocery store and I didn’t even have my contacts in!” (To be honest, I didn’t really look up to introducing myself to anyone. {Humidity + Susie’s Hair = WTF?}) So I didn’t approach her. We each pushed our carts out to our cars and I continued to grin at her like some weird stalker.

It’s silly, I know. Seeing this mommy blogger, doing the mundane mommy task of grocery shopping, with a toddler the same age as mine, brought home the point that we forget when we are speaking of celebrities – that they are humans. Even Heather, the Pinky Tuscadero of blogging, shops for groceries. And I’m willing to bet she doesn’t do it with perfect hair and a full face of make-up either. It’s odd that what attracts us to these particular writers, the fact that they are so much like us, is exactly what sets them apart from us at the same time.

With the upcoming BlogHer conference, I notice there is some talk out there in the blogosphere about breaking down these barriers. They say that popularity is fleeting and random and should not be intimidating. These are very encouraging words for a newbie blogger like myself. But I still would feel nervous meeting any of you for the first time, no matter how equal we may actually be.

So what is the etiquette for meeting a fellow blogger? Do you pretend not to recognize him or her? Do you formally introduce yourself no matter how you are dressed and what your hair is doing? Would you like to be recognized? What would you do if you met your favorite blogger? And if you are going to BlogHer, you will probably have such an opportunity so come back and tell me your stories. But if you are not attending BlogHer, I’ll meet you at Trader Joe’s.

Is It Friday Yet?

2008-06-05T22:57:00.005-04:00

I started this post on Monday. I managed a few lines that went something like this: This week will be really busy...
And it has been. It is the last week of school for the kids so that means that many commitments and end-of-year To Do's were added to the typically full schedule. And of course, there is the realization that we will now move into Super Summer Camp Mommy mode. So, if you have been wondering where I have been, here is a short list. I have been volunteering in classrooms, buying and making teacher gifts, attending award ceremonies and preschool graduations, I have been crying and having all kinds of end-of-school year emotional moments, planning and hosting last minute good-bye parties for my business kids and doing lots of laundry. Wait, I'm always doing that. Oh yeah, and I have been playing with the new camera - ALOT. Which brings me to my next question. If this were your almost two-year-old, would you cut his hair? I just can't bring myself to do it. It has become a bit of a thing at our house. No one wants to see the hair go - like we would be cutting off Logan's actual babyhood with the hair. He mostly seems to love it. I call him "Breck Boy" as he admires himself in the mirror while he brushes it. But then outside, the breeze will blow it in his face and he really hates that. And of course, there is the issue of folks thinking he's a girl. Did I mention that it's summer and already about 100 degrees here so it seems like it's time to let it go? But then I announce, "This will be The Day" and everyone groans, "No, not his hair!" And it doesn't take much for me to be talked out of it. I'm not ready for the Big Boy haircut - I'm not ready for Logan to be the Big Boy, period.

Theme Thursday - Flowering

2008-05-29T16:47:00.004-04:00

I've decided to try my hand at a theme posting. I found this one through Shutter Sisters following a link to a link and so on... The theme is called Flowering.

When walking along our road on Monday, Dean pointed to this and suggested I take a picture. Here is what he found so picture-worthy and I was happy to capture it for him.

Lost

2008-05-23T20:25:00.001-04:00

I have always loved writing. For me, it has always been a way to process my thoughts – sound them out so I really understand how I feel about something. That’s why I started this blog. But before the days of blogging, I wrote the old fashioned way – on paper.

When I was in middle school, while everyone else was listening to my science teacher lecture on about a George Orwell futuristic society where people wouldn’t carry cash – they would have their money deposited directly into an account and they would use these cards to buy things and machines would subtract the money they would spend. Wait, it gets better. To communicate, people would carry these wireless things that they would talk into, just like in Star Trek. I know, the man was a genius! Anyway, instead of listening to those predictions day in and day out, I was the girl who sat in the back of the room writing poetry about it all. I will spare you the sharing of this attempted poetry because I wanted to share with you something I wrote last year, or perhaps the year before, that I thought was quite good. It truly captured how I was feeling at the time – and how I feel every year at this time. A perfect post describing the melancholy of May, the bittersweet of the endings and the beginnings, the nostalgia and the hope… All summed up in several pages jotted down in my journal in the days before the blog.

But I can’t find the notebook. It is lost. Pages full of my thoughts from To Do lists, to questions to ask the Doctor, to my menu plan for the week, to phone numbers and messages hurriedly scribbled in random spots. My worries, my goals, my future blog posts… Gone.

I can’t imagine where I might have left it. I used to carry it with me everywhere but for awhile it just sat on my desk because I don’t have a lot of time to write down every little sound-bite from my brain and what I do write, I keep on the laptop. But the other day, I had it with me because I knew I would have time to write but I didn’t want to be responsible for the computer since I have a habit of losing things. Ahem. Anyway, the only thing I can think is that wherever I was, is where I left the journal.

And today it struck me that if I left it in a public place, someone has probably picked it up and read it. Initially, I was horrified. Not that a total stranger would care what I had planned to make for dinner on some Tuesday in April of last year or what I needed to pick up at CVS, or how much Logan weighed at his last well child check – but those notes are mine! I feel so violated at just the mere thought of some stranger knowing my innermost thoughts and personal routines. Are you snickering yet? Imagine being worried about some face-less somebody reading words that I had hoped to upload onto my internet blog!

I feel the same way I did a few years ago when I met my aunt at a local restaurant for lunch and I brought my most recent photos of Dean, a toddler at the time. The pictures were all perfectly chronologically organized in a photo album – an album that I left at the restaurant (I think) never to be seen again. That’s right - pictures of my precious baby handled by some stranger and probably carelessly dumped into the garbage can. Of course, I was able to buy a new photo album and get the pictures redeveloped, but still.

In this case, I probably can‘t rewrite that piece about May, a bit of writing that was as true when I wrote it as it is right now this minute. And that is what I truly feel I have lost here. With many of my posts, I have felt that I did not quite convey what I was truly thinking and feeling. With a few, I was almost there, but fell short. This, I guess, is a skill that comes with time and you (1blueshi1) have been quite encouraging. “Keep on, keeping on,” you said and that I’ll be grateful that I do. I hope you are right. And if there are any other faithful lurkers out there, this is a great time to de-cloak yourself and let me know you have been reading. I could really use the encouragement right about now.

Saving the World - one click at a time

2008-05-19T21:47:00.002-04:00

Because I am lazy, I like to think I can make the world a better place by simply using my computer. And I can. Check out my side bar where you can click on a search engine that plants trees. That's right - the more you use it, the more trees get planted somewhere where trees are needed. And you can click to help pay for mammograms for women who are underinsured. In fact, that same site helps the environment, feeds hungry children and finds home for pets. One stop clicking. And you know about Free Rice, right? You play a word game and the more you play, the more rice is donated.

So go ahead - click away for a good cause. Let me know of other lazy ways to save the world!

Some Enchanted Evening

2008-05-16T17:39:00.003-04:00

My sister just emailed me pictures of my niece heading off to her senior prom. Her senior prom. She looks gorgeous, of course, and so much more comfortable than I did just a mere twenty years ago. Seeing the pictures launched me straight into nostalgia and I had to dust off the old photo album from my own "glory days." And so here I am, a rare photo of myself - a twenty-year-old photo of myself with my high school boyfriend. Oh look, I actually cropped him out of the picture. It's like he's not even there - just like he made me feel that night. But I'm not bitter, after all, I've had twenty years to let it go. I mean, I didn't let a little thing like getting dumped the night of the prom taint my memory of it at all. I hope my niece has a more enchanted evening than I did.

My House is a Metaphor for my Life

2008-05-09T20:37:00.001-04:00

The other day, my husband asked me a simple question. “How much money do we have in our checking account?” This is a question that I can typically answer in one keystroke but this time, it just wasn’t that easy. Trying to answer that one question was more like opening a Pandora’s Box of ATM receipts, deposit slips and bill statements – all stowed in several piles but with each pile spread around like kitty litter around the cat box. I dove into each mound of paper like I was playing “Go Fish” only to come up without a match and having to draw again.

There are few places left in my house to put things out of Logan’s reach – or at least make it harder for him to reach and buy me some interception time. We have one stretch of kitchen counter, the buffet table in the family room and the closets. Wait a minute, scratch the closets – he can open all the doors now. The problem is that these spaces are becoming uncontrollably cluttered. They have become the default homes for the laptop computer, bills to be paid, business receipts, school memos, the camera, art supplies, sharp things, etc. The delicate balance of organization that used to be a source of pride for me has disappeared, presumably under that stack of folded laundry. Things are getting lost, or restacked, or carried off to an undisclosed location and the disorganization is driving me to distraction. But pruning back the piles as if they are overgrown hedges takes TIME. It’s not just the piles themselves but also the question of the items’ rightful homes. The top of the desk is too accessible to little hands and if I file them away in the drawer, will they be un-filed only moments later? Does the overflowing recycling bin really need to be where I have to see it? And since obviously, it is no longer safe to stow the coffee grinder in the same drawer where it has lived for the last five and half years, where should we put it?

In short, what Flylady would call my “Hot Spots” have turned into raging infernos and the only thing I have to tame the blaze is a spray bottle of lighter fluid. Minutiae that once had it’s own space and time – chores that were routine are now special events. Too much time and effort are required for anything more basic than the daily schlepping of dishes, toys and laundry. What, you might wonder, makes it so hard suddenly? It seems too easy to blame the third child – blame the fact that there is simply more of everything to do. Adding to the extra laundry and To Do’s is the complication that comes with a little person who has no impulse control or sense of safety. He also has his own ideas of what he wants to do and how he wants it done. (And did I mention that he does not sleep?) It’s frustrating because sometimes I am stuck wondering why it has been so hard to incorporate this busy toddler into our house full of little kids.

And then I have flashbacks of feeling this way once before – probably about three years ago when Jess was a toddler. That was about the same time that I left my job and became a full-time stay-at-home mom. Then too, I wondered if I’d ever get my groove back. Once I figured out that it wasn’t just about the house being messy, that it was about me trying to redefine my role, I was able to enjoy my new lifestyle. When I stopped working, I assumed that I would finally have more to time to do the things that I wanted to do for myself and my family. It took a long time to learn that just being a mom and doing all the things that I had always done for my family was enough. And eventually I incorporated that new role into my sense of self and found that I hadn’t lost my self at all – not even under that pile of folded clothes.

So when will the balance be restored to the Force? Perhaps when we have a Democrat in the White House again, I’m not sure. But if memory serves, it will probably happen slowly, in small ways each day, until I can’t remember how hard it has been. Small changes here and there (like more sensible locations for some items or locks for cabinet doors) will help fuel the mental energy it will take to make larger ones. And until then, I’ll settle for a few minutes to sweep up one or two of those piles. As I’ve said before, it doesn’t take much to make Mom happy. A full cup of coffee and a clean kitchen counter is sometimes all I need to make my world right. Now, has anyone seen the remote?

Take Back The Girl

2008-04-26T09:31:00.001-04:00

I don’t think it takes much to make women happy. I know this because one time I was on an elevator with a four-year-old girl. She stood there holding her father’s hand with one foot extended out in front of her. She was smiling at her pink and shiny plastic shoes as she slowly twisted her foot back and forth. “New shoes?” I asked. “Oh yes,” she said breathlessly. “And they make me so happy!” It is that simple, I thought, as I got off the elevator. Some small gesture, either a pair of shoes or a new shade of lipstick, is sometimes all it takes to make you feel, well, worth it. The problem for me lately is that I have stopped investing in those little things and have begun to proverbially let myself go.

First of all, let me start by explaining that I have never been a “girly-girl” kind of girl. Sure, I look back at pictures and say things like, “Wow, that was a cute outfit” or “What was I thinking with the hair?” But mainly I was not one to spend hours primping and fretting in front of mirror. Maybe I should have, but that is a different post. In my teen years, it could not be said that I was oozing with style. I never had a penchant for designer labels or fashion accessories. I had a few vintage pieces of clothing that I loved and outside of the misguided perm (Dude, it was the 80’s), I think I did all right. At least I thought that at the time and that’s what counts. During the college years, I was thrilled to no longer be donning the standard issue plaid wool uniform and spent whatever money I could on thrift store finds and men’s clothes (most of which were plaid, go figure). I guess the standard term might have been “preppy.” I was no fashionista but I did manage to blend.

During my first post-graduation job I loved “dressing up” for work in my long skirts and ankle boots. I spent my pittance of a paycheck on clothes that I considered classic and hard working. Most of these outfits lasted me all through graduate school. But my paying job as a preschool teacher meant coming home with snot smeared on my shirts and paint handprints on the seat of my pants. Skirts were worse because I often didn’t even notice who or what was being wiped on them as I passed. My internships at the hospital were no easier on the clothes since I worked with children there as well. My clothing is where my worry over my looks stopped – there simply was no money for expensive haircuts and premium make-up.

As the years passed, I was able to invest more money in better haircuts but didn’t bother spending too much on work clothes. Most of the dresses that I preferred to wear came from Target, which was livin’ large for me at the time. As I became more confident in myself career-wise, I became more interested in comfort and practicality in my clothing. I needed to be able to move freely (only sensible shoes for me) and I could not risk being heart-broken if my favorite item was stained by paint or blood or you-don’t-want-to-know-what-else. I was dressed-up if I remembered to put earrings in. If I were wearing stockings, well, I was probably on my way to a job interview.

By my early 30’s, I had two kids and the foregone conclusion that I was simply sexier with clothes on than off (provided said clothes were at least clean). Under my clothes are my merit badges of motherhood – c-sections scars, stretch marks and a few (or 20) extra pounds. On the outside, my clothes hold the tell tale signs of being a mom – snail trails of snot, dirty footprints from holding a toddler, and dribbles of food. I wear jeans or yoga pants, t-shirts and running shoes. The circles under my eyes are darker than my hair. I don’t often wear jewelry of any kind. I haven’t had my hair cut since December. Because of terrible eye allergies and hormone-hell induced acne, I no longer wear make-up of any kind. And while I am fully disclosing the extent of my maternal neglect, I’ve just been to the dentist for the first time in over five years.

All of this has taken its toll on my self-esteem. I would very much like to be kidnapped by a sorority and become their charitable mission. Or maybe you can nominate me for What Not To Wear? Or maybe I should just start spending some more time here or here. I’d like to go shopping and buy a shirt that does not have the preschool’s logo on it. I’d like to find someone to cut my hair that will cut it the way that I ask him/her to and not make me look like a country music singer or some early 80’s icon. And I’d like a pair of shoes that have not been chewed by the dog. I’d like to see my reflection in the mirror and recognize myself. I’d like to post a picture of myself that actually reflects my self-image. I’d like to TAKE BACK the girl in me.

It’s not about reclaiming youth. I love who I am today more than who I was 20 years ago. This is about taking time for Me, time to take care of myself. Then hopefully, I’ll feel better about how I look. It’ll be small steps. After all, letting myself go took years so I can’t be expected to get my girl back immediately. I started with a trip to one of those professional bra fitters to get a bra that fits, I mean, really fits. This is one piece of clothing that I will happily spend money on – they are not called foundation garments for nothing. A supportive, correctly fitting bra is what keeps my breasts from getting caught in the zipper of my jeans. I will not compromise on this one.

As I have mentioned before, I have spent A LOT of time at the dentist in the last few weeks so my smile is finally getting the attention it deserves. This weekend, I will go through my closet and remove any item that is older than my oldest child. Next week, I’ll call the dermatologist to revisit the whole acne issue. And today, I have booked a babysitter. I’m not sure how I will spend that time but it will be ALONE. I may even go get a haircut. I’ll let you know.

Spring is a time for renewal and I declare this spring “TAKE BACK THE GIRL” season. Go get a manicure or a massage. Go shopping and try on fancy dresses. Maybe your happiness can be found in a pair of these or maybe a bottle of this. Spread the word and tell me how you are taking back your girl.

Add to the List of Things to Buy

2008-04-24T12:15:00.002-04:00

The bad news first: the beloved family friend, known as the digital camera, is broken. Dropped one too many times, I guess. It finally just gave up after five and a half years of devoted service. Next to the coffee maker and the computer, this is the one device I use daily.

Now the good news: the digital camera is broken. That's right - an opportunity to hemorrhage large amounts of cash. I mean, a chance to upgrade to a nice new camera. Whoo hoo!

But until then, I have asked that my children not do anything cute. Nothing noteworthy that I might want to remember or commemorate by taking a picture and finding it years later in the basement of my computer that is iphoto. No developmental milestones or other feats of growth. No first haircut. No blowing of dandelion puffs into the wind. No admiring yourself in the mirror with your puckered lips and half-closed eyes while you brush your own hair - the same way you look when you are blowing a dandelion puff.

No reading books to your younger brothers while they gaze up at you with those worshipping looks on their faces. And did I just catch you dancing to a song that you are singing to yourself because you think no one is watching? No more snuggling with the dog, who is at his sweetest when he is being snuggled by own of his boys. And no walking down the path in the woods with that dog at your side and the sun filtering through the trees to create halos on both your heads. And absolutely no hugging and kissing of your siblings instead of the usual wrestling that occurs. Please, not that!

I hope we can all hold out until the new camera arrives.

A Secret To Tell

2008-04-16T22:02:00.001-04:00

Sorry it has taken me so long to meet you back here. There have been so many thoughts, scribbled on bits of paper while at the park or waiting in car line, but no time to put them into sentences here at the computer. I wanted to take the time to tell you about something that has been on my mind a lot lately: work. I have often felt like I am stuck between two dimensions – the past life where everything was centered around my job and my current life that is centered around my children. I admire the women who find the balance between the two, the tightrope thin line that it is. I have tried all sides and know from experience that neither is perfect. I have worked outside the home, not worked at all, and worked from the home. Now I am faced with having to decide again which it will be for next year. And do you want to hear my secret? I think I miss my career as a Child Life Specialist. Shhhhhhh… To avoid the “I told you so’s,” this is between us.

And I say career because I hated my job. Leaving it was the right thing to do at the time. But it was bittersweet. Jobs in my field are hard to come by and I worked hard to get the one I left behind. Ultimately, it was too hard to keep it up with both parenting and the job the way it was. I hated the politics, the administrative tasks that kept me from my patients, the lack of support and resources to do the job at hand. I hated leaving my family behind every day to go to a place I hated being, a place where no one else seemed to care if I was even there. But the work that I was doing, although half-hearted, was special work. Last week, I was reminded how truly special being a Child Life Specialist is. A dear friend who works at Boston Children’s Hospital emailed to let me know that NBC Evening News was doing a feature on her boss, Myra Fox. Here’s the link. For more information, watch this.

By the time the piece finished, I was in tears. There on my TV was a huge reminder of the face I hadn’t seen in so long, the place where I was once a doe-eyed intern, and the career for which I spent much money and time in education and training. Later, when I had pulled myself together, I called that dear friend that I missed so much. We talked about the old times when we worked together here and how happy she is now that she is working there. And then she reminded me of how good I used to be at my job – it was the job that wasn’t good to me. I simply worry that I’ll never be able to reenter the field, unless I move to another state. And could I ever, possibly be good at it again after so many years of being out of the healthcare setting? Has the name I made for myself been forgotten? I haven’t thrown it all away, have I?

Some might argue that I haven’t exactly been out of the field wasting my Masters degree. For the last few years, I have been running my own after-school program in my home. And due to my special set of skills, I have often consulted with parents on various issues and prepared kids for surgical procedures (my own son included). Just the other week, my sister-in-law asked me to speak with a friend who was having trouble getting her son to cooperate with regular blood draws. We reviewed his set of coping strategies and words she could use to explain the procedure. We also identified ways that he could be in control instead of just being helplessly poked with a needle. It was a moment that made me feel like “I still got it.” And maybe I shouldn’t keep it to myself.

Then came another reminder. A few days ago, I was reading Alexa’s blog and she referenced this post. Since then, I have been hooked on baby Emily’s story for two reasons. One, Emily is about the age of Logan so this story cuts close to home. Two, Emily is just the type of child that I would be working with at my old job. I can only send her my virtual well-wishes and know my dear friend up there in Boston is taking good care of her – bringing her all the comfort and support that a Child Life Specialist can give. Just like I would.

Someday, I do hope to work again in Child Life. For now, it’s just not an option and I am OK with that. As far as the next year is concerned, my after-school program kids are graduating from preschool and Jess, my 5 year old, is starting kindergarten. So I can continue my business with new kids that are not the same age as any of mine, reinvent my business with new hours and new kids, or close the business and just be available to my own kids. And that is what my husband and I decided to do. Of course, I have mixed feelings. Will I be able to restart my business in a year when Logan goes to preschool? Will I be wasting my skills? Am I throwing it all away? At the same time, I will be relieved not have extra children around – my three are enough! Hey, I may even have more time more blogging…

A Few Random Gripes

2008-04-04T11:07:00.003-04:00

1. Dear Weather,
After almost no rain for an entire year, why do you decide to make it up to us all at the same time, during Spring break no less? Just asking. And by the way, why 80 degrees one day and 40 degrees the next? I need more consistency in my life, please. You had all winter to be cold and mostly you chose not to be. You do not get a do-over in April, sorry. You should know that I have packed away the hats, scarves, and coats until next year. Thanks.

2. Dear Sons,
You know those large plastic container-things in your closets? Those are called hampers. Say it with me, H.A.M.P.E.R.S. They are for your dirty clothes, which are those things all over the floor near the container-things. And the reason you can’t find your clean clothes is because they seem to be stuffed into the hampers where the dirty ones should be. I know – what a mystery!
Here’s another piece of information: I am not the maid. I know this is a bit of a shock but you know how I know the difference? Maids get paychecks and time off.

3. Dear Toddler,
I love that you still breastfeed at 20 months. Really I do. But at night? Every 40 minutes or so? Not so much. That could stop. Think about it.

4. Dear Dog,
Today I have spent A LOT of money on getting the carpet cleaned. If you value your place in the household, you will not, and I repeat NOT, choose today to deposit anything from the inside of your body onto the floor. Consider yourself warned.

5. Dear Husband,
It would have been lovely for you to have taken just a bit of time off from work this week during Spring Break so that we could do something as a family. Like eat dinner maybe? Just sayin’. Also, I could use a break from items 1 through 4. So when you suggested this morning that I take the kids to the museum by myself? I kind of wanted to say, “Why don’t you take them?”

P.S. Speaking of the maid, I think we should fire her because, man, the house is a wreck.

Be Still My Heart

2008-04-01T14:38:00.002-04:00

Lest you think my kids only annoy me, a few minutes ago I went stomping into my sons' room to lay the law about sharing the computer. I assumed they were probably fighting over it and actually, I wanted them to go ahead and do something else. I opened up the door quickly, so as to catch them in the act of doing what they were not supposed to be doing, and there they were - sitting side by side, quietly playing with their legos. Together.

I also wanted to take this quiet moment of brotherly love to thank 1blueshi1 and Tootsie Farklepants for their encouraging comments. While I started this blog for me, it is certainly a boost to know that the fellow sisters hear me. I feel like I have truly arrived in the blogosphere. Thanks for the visit and come over any time!

Drive Like Every Day Is Mother's Day

2008-03-25T19:01:00.002-04:00

[Note: From this point on, my children will be referred to by their blog names of Dean (8), Jess (5), and Logan (1). This sounds much better than their real names of Mopey, Screechy and Whiney. (Leave me a comment if you get the pop culture reference)]

Two weeks ago, we were getting ready to pick my oldest, Dean, up from school. I was starting to feel irritated because even though we had started to get ready with plenty of time, we were rushing at the last minute just the same. There was one more potty trip, someone couldn’t find their shoes, the baby wouldn’t cooperate with getting into his car seat – all factors conspiring to make us leave the house later than usual. Speeding down the road, as I am apt to do when we are late and I’m trying to get to school before they sell my child to the circus, I can see the flashing lights up ahead. My first thought is, “Crap, now we are going to really be late.” As I get closer, I can see more of the accident and that the road is totally blocked. My second thought is, “Crap, I don’t want the kids to see that.” I try to turn off the main road before the accident but there is no other turn to take. Bystanders are redirecting traffic to my left just a few feet from the crashed cars. Luckily, the boys in the back seat are only mildly affected. They can’t see the crash from their vantage point – but I can. I can see that it is not good. As I follow the detour, I can hear more EMS vehicles arriving and my mind is racing with various emotions. I pass this way every day – twice. This accident had just occurred – if we had been on time, we could have been involved. Was it someone we knew? Could it be one of our neighbors or classmates? Someone, somewhere was getting a phone call, the kind of phone call that I fear, and their day, their world, was about to come crashing down. But I kept driving, because, you know – kid, school, circus…

Once I arrived at school, I hugged Dean so tightly that he asked me what was wrong. So I explained that I was late because of an accident and that I was sad that people had gotten hurt. We spent some time hanging out at school – since I needed the distraction and I had hoped that the accident might be cleared by the time we passed the scene again. Despite the extra time, however, the opposite had occurred. Without a better detour idea, I took our usual route home only to pass a scene that had grown in intensity and drama. EMS workers were still trying to cut a victim free of the wreckage and so many people were standing around wringing their hands with grim faces. I had to carefully drive around parked cars, neighbors standing in the road including one scared crying child. Just beyond the actual accident was the Life Flight helicopter, parked on someone’s front lawn. Not something you see everyday so this is where I tried to draw the kids’ attention.

Dean, who could see more than Jess and his friend, was asking questions about what he was seeing – both outside and inside the car. He is old enough and mature enough to understand my emotional reactions and wanted to know why I was driving so slowly, why was I angry that someone had let their child watch something so scary and in such an unsafe location, why I was irritated that they hadn’t redirected traffic better, and why I was irritated with myself for simply not taking the really long way home that would have avoided all this in the first place. And why were all the other cars we passed for the rest of the trip going so fast? Didn't they know?

So I gave him some honest answers. I didn’t take a different route because I did not want us on the road any longer than necessary. Driving a car is a big responsibility and a small mistake could have huge, nasty consequences. I told him how sad I was that someone had gotten hurt. I hated that anyone had to suffer – like being pinned in a car for over an hour after being hit head on, and that an entire neighborhood had turned out to helplessly watch. I hated that someone was so terribly hurt that the helicopter had been brought in to bring him/her to the hospital (a good sign, in that the victim had survived the accident). I didn’t say that I was scared about how easily it could have been us involved in that crash. I didn’t say that this, while not ordinary, is an ordinary risk we take every day.

Several days later, I was still processing what we had witnessed. As I learned the details about how the accident had occurred, I was even more traumatized. I heard that the person stuck in that car was a mother and that her own mother had come to the scene to be with her. The simple fact that the crash involved a fellow mom affected me as much as everything else. A friend and I were talking about it one day – about the driver who had crossed the center line because she had reached for something on the seat next to her and had taken her eyes from the road for a split second. “How often do I do that?” my friend asked. “How often do I switch the CD for the kids, or reach into the back to hand them something?” True enough. How easily we take our safety for granted. And how would we live with ourselves if we were responsible for such an accident? We drive the same roads everyday, hurrying along, just trying to get to our next place – not really thinking about what could happen. And honestly, I can’t think too much about what could happen - because if I did, I wouldn’t drive at all. I can only keep my hands on the wheel, my eyes open, my mind focused, and my heart with the mother who almost lost her life.

And so if lessons are to be learned from other’s tragedies, this is mine. I cannot control what might happen to me, but I can be in control of what I do. I can prevent my being responsible for someone else’s pain. So here is my challenge to you. Drive today and everyday as if every mother depends on it.

If I'm Not Home, Please Leave A Note

2008-03-20T10:08:00.002-04:00

I'm starting to feel better finally. Monday afternoon was hard - my kids were hard. After my post, we all calmed down and were able to make dinner together. The whining and screeching stopped and the sun came out again. How do you other bloggers do it? How do you post, sometimes daily, with small children in the house? I don't understand. Do you stay up all night? Do your kids nap or something? How do you find the time? I'd love to know. I was reading a blog this morning written by a woman on her way to the hospital to give birth! How? Anyways, if you have suggestions or would just like to let me know that you have stopped by, I'd love to hear from you. I think perhaps if someone left me a comment, I'd find that really encouraging. Thanks for letting me know you were here.

How To Lose Eight Pounds in 24 Hours

2008-03-17T15:28:00.002-04:00

Don't come over - I've been sick. Stomach bugs are the worst but you can at least usually count on getting over them quickly. Not this time, my friend. Several days and eight pounds later, I am still feeling the after-effects.

There have been several posts that have to come to mind this past week and have left before being able to enter them. It seems that when I have a moment, my computer is being used by my husband. This was especially true this weekend. At one point, I asked him if he were ever coming out from behind it. Very frustrating indeed.

Even as I write this, this entry keeps changing tone and content. Here is the ugly truth. I am having a really hard afternoon. It has taken me 40 minutes to write this much. My kids are needy and demanding. I am short-tempered and fragile. We are not a good mix at the moment. It's a symptom of a much broader problem - a combination of illness, hormones, lack of sleep and NO. TIME. TO. MYSELF. But every thing is just fine, as long as I don't ever try to do anything at all. So I'm gong to end here, despite all that I'd like to write because GOD FORBID I try to do anything for myself!

Home Alone, Sorta

2008-03-08T17:58:00.003-05:00

I have been working on another post but haven't been able to sit with the words to get them in order enough to share. So here is the abstract version: We saw a terrible car accident and it made me feel like crap. More about that at a later time.
In the here and now, my husband and oldest son are away this weekend on a Cub Scout outing. They are camping on an aircraft carrier with 498 of their closest friends. It was a six hour drive, through some nasty weather and they are bunking in some pretty tight quarters with alot of rambunctious boys. And since alcohol is not allowed on board, I was pretty certain that my husband would be having a fairly awful weekend. I on the other hand, was looking forward to it. Sure, I'm left at home with our two youngest sons without any backup. But typically when my husband travels (which is quite untypical), I make the most of it by renting a video for the kids and then one for myself after they go to bed. I thought I'd use the time to bond with the Gilmore Girls. The benefits of being left home are that I have less cleaning to worry about, dinner is mac and cheese, and I get to watch whatever I want on late-night TV. Then at some point yesterday as I was cleaning up, it hit me. Damn, I'd have to make my own coffee.
Now it is Saturday night. The husband called and is pleasantly surprised with the cub scout trip. At home, our weekend is going well too, despite having to drink my own coffee and having to get out bed to do it. The toddler spilled said coffee, but that is fine since Starbucks is on our way to wherever we are going. Both boys napped so I had 45 minutes to drink tea and watch Lipstick Jungle on NBC.com. And now the house is cleaner than usual (about 1/3 cleaner than usual) and the macaroni is bubbling for dinner. After dinner, my five-year-old will watch the movie he checked out of the library and we will cozily settle down for the night. Tomorrow, we will wake with one time change hour already consumed. And I will have to make my own coffee. My husband so owes me...

Some Things You Should Know About Me

2008-03-05T11:06:00.002-05:00

Now that the initial introductions are out of the way, you might like to know a little bit more about me. So without giving too much away on the first date (I wouldn’t want to scare you off or anything), here are some introductory thoughts that will give you a sense of who I am and what you will be reading more about in the future:

1. I am a Mom. This is the first and foremost aspect of my life – the axis around which my whole life spins. I have three boys, ages 8, 5 and 1 ½. Being their mother brings me equal measures of joy and stress, pride and self-doubt.
2. I have an amazing husband. We have been married for more than a decade and are more in love now than ever. Corny, I know. Every morning, he brings me coffee in bed. I am so spoiled.
3. Every morning, I can’t get out of bed before consuming a large mug of coffee. I told you, I am spoiled.
4. Susie is not my real name – or least I haven’t answered to that since I was eight years old. I pretentiously prefer my given name of Susan but Susie sounded more welcoming and the URL address I really wanted was taken.
5. Since becoming a parent, I have been a working mom, a stay-at-home mom, and a work-from-home mom. I have experienced the pros and cons of each and know how hard it is either way. I won’t choose sides on who has it harder or better.
6. I have a Masters degree in child development. Contrary to what you might think, this does not make me a more confident or credentialed parent. It also does not increase my pay.
7. Twenty years ago I would have scoffed at the idea of living in the suburbs and driving a mini-van. Of course, twenty years ago I would have liked to join the Peace Corps and do meaningful work, except I was afraid to give up daily showers so, I didn’t. Little did I know that parenthood would be a lot like the Peace Corps in that the natives and I don’t always speak the same language, there is no pay and I often don’t get a daily shower. And it is indeed meaningful work.
8. I have always wanted to be a Martha Stewart type Mom. I love to bake, cook, sew and create things but didn’t have the time before I had kids since I had a demanding job. Now that I am a stay-home parent, I don’t have time since I have demanding kids.
9. If I could change one thing about myself (besides my hair), I’d like to be more patient, especially with my children.
10. When I get an idea to do something, I sorta obsess about it – until I finally do it. Starting a blog is one of those things that I have decided I must do but I almost gave it up completely when I couldn’t get my entry to post this morning.
11. Some of the sister blogs that inspire me are: Toddler Planet, Catherine Newman, Woulda Coulda Shoulda, Flotsam, Serving The Queens, A Little Pregnant – just to name a few.
12. I chose the name “At Home With Me” because I am welcoming you into my home, my life. Secondly, a blog is for the blogger more than for the readership. I will be processing my thoughts and experiences here so that I will feel more at home with myself.

Welcome Home

2008-03-03T10:48:00.001-05:00

It seems like an introduction is in order. My name is Susie and I might be addicted to blogs. Reading blogs has become a hobby of mine, especially since I don’t really have the time or the patience to read anything that is more than a grocery list. When I first started reading blogs, I thought that I should just go ahead and write my own. After all, I like to write and I like to talk about myself. This, of course, meant that I had to research this blogging phenomenon by reading more blogs. If I were going to be serious about this, then I needed to know more about what other blogs are out there. Hmmmmm… Do you know how many blogs are out there?! Some have cute and catchy names, themes, and styles even – this was way more than I expected. Benchmarking led to procrastinating. I couldn’t start my own blog because I was intimidated by all the other blogs out there that surely are better than mine could ever be. I mean, really, we need one more blog like we need one more reality TV show. With all these other blogs, how can mine be at all extraordinary? And besides, I didn’t have time to actually create a blog since I was too busy reading everyone else’s.

I also needed to work out some critical questions – some of which I haven’t fully answered yet. For example, how anonymous do I want to be? Do I want to invite friends and family to read this or do I want to be able to use it as an outlet to work out some issues. But wait, what if my parents did read it?! Should I curtail some entries in the off chance they do? Should I not let my husband or kids read it? Where will that line be between disclosure and privacy? How will I keep it real without giving too much away? Will anyone even read this? Will I even have time to keep a blog or will this just be another extra something that I don’t ever get to do like knitting and getting a haircut? At this point, you might ask, “So why blog at all?” Because I have been reading some amazing blogs written by some incredible people. But I feel like I am watching a party through the window and it is time to come inside. From what I have been reading, I feel welcomed to finally do so. I too have a voice and I am ready to share it.

Doubts and worries aside, one positive thing I have learned in my explorations is that while there are indeed many blogs, the blogging community is a cozy and personal one. I am often awed by the sense of sisterhood that exists here - from setting up virtual baby showers to making videos of support, there is a wealth of brilliance, strength, humor, and courage out there to be read and I want to be apart of it. As I would read one, I’d follow a link to another, and so on, only to come back to another link to the original blog that I started with. So from the uncountable number of blogs out there, the blogosphere started to feel more like a community, a neighborhood. I am inspired to build my home on that block. So come on in to meet your new neighbor. Get yourself some coffee, don’t mind the mess, but please do make yourself at home.

Under Construction

2008-03-01T17:20:00.000-05:00

This home is under construction. Please come back to visit me soon!