Trying Something New

If I were more industrious I would go back and see how many times I've lamented about the loathsome job of doing laundry.  It, like washing dishes, is such a bother.  Wash, dry, take care of and repeat for the rest of your life. 

The few times that every article of clothing (save what we were wearing), kitchen towel and assorted linens has been clean and folded and taken care of are such sweet times.  I like to see empty hampers, laundry baskets, a spacious and empty laundry room and a pool table not covered in clothes. 

Then I squander that precious time of having nothing taunting me in the hamper by fretting about other chores that need to be done to make the house perfect.  If the dishes are done and the toys are picked up then are the windows sparkly clean?  The bathroom spotless?  How about the grout lines in the kitchen - how long has it been since I took a toothpick to them?

Nutso, I know.

Last week Ryan invited a friend over to play pool. 

There was only one problem.

The pool table.  It was covered - every square inch - with clean clothes, piles of stuff to go to Goodwill, to save for so and so, to be moved to the garage/kitchen/bookshelf/boys room...

One evening Ryan spent an hour and a half tackling the pool table. 

It took him 90 minutes to fold all of those clothes and sort through the piles of stuff.  And he goes pretty fast at it, too.  There is no precision folding going on. 

Maybe I should slack a little on the precision and just go with the whole 'getting it done and over with' method.  I'm the only one who cares if the sheets are folded so well that you can't tell which is a flat sheet and which is a folded sheet.  The boys don't balk if the towels in the linen closet do not have all of their edges matched up perfectly.  Or if the edge sides or round folded sides are not all facing the same direction.

Geez, just writing about this makes me want to go straighten out the linen closet.  The towels are folded all wonky and there is a huge stack of yellow shop cloths in front of the bath towels.  The wash cloths are not stacked by style (in the following order:  the white ones with pink trim, sand colored ribbed ones from our wedding registry, white ones from my mom 2 Christmases ago) and baby washcloths are mixed in with them and they are stacked so high the tower of wash cloths is falling over ....

Wait.

I need to go get a brown paper bag.

*********

Just kidding.  Sort of.  I'm not hyperventilating but I do think I've got myself plenty worked up about the state of the linen closet. 

Sheesh. Now I have to worry about the linen closet in addition to the hallway full of stuff I need to clear out.  It's been 5 years in the making but I reached my tipping point in our tiny bedroom.  Our bedroom set is lovely.  Really.  Very pretty, solid wood, blah, blah, blah.  It is also freaking HUGE.  We will gain 18 inches of precious space by removing our head and foot boards.  I cleared the top of my dresser (into a laundry basket, the contents and which are in the hallway sitting on top of my nightstand - which I also emptied in order to move it to the guest room) so I could work on emptying the dresser so I can take the dresser out of the room.

On Sunday or Monday we are going to get a platform bed that has storage underneath.  The one drawer full of clothes that I couldn't arrange neatly in the closet are going in those drawers.  We will be down 3 really bulky pieces.  Our room will feel like a calm and spacious oasis. 

Now I just need to get Ryan to take the boys to his mom's or dad's house for the weekend so I can paint the bedroom... and living room... and dining room.... 

I feel relaxed just thinking about the vision it's going to be.  Now I just have to work on my sales pitch to Ryan about my color choices.  Half of my pitch is about his lack of labor involvement and the other half will have to be made up of trust (see how nice the bathroom turned out?  You doubted that, remember?) and my big brown eyes looking at him all sweet and doe like. 

So the whole reason I started this post was because I had this novel idea about something new I'm trying:  folding laundry one load at time.  When a load needs to go in the dryer I fold the one already in there instead of piling the clean clothes on top of the dryer, then the washer then the pool table. 

It's been 3 days and it is going beautifully. 

The other new thing I was going to try and have already failed miserably at is a short blog post.  Since I like to write but finding the time to do it when I have enough uninterrupted time and energy is kind of hard I thought I would just write a small post about doing laundry.  But then I start in on tangents. 

Oy.  The tangents.

That reminds me about this time in the 9th grade when I learned what a tangent was...

Nutso

You know those days when you wake up and in spite of being a little tired you just go, go, go?  I had one of those the other day.  It hasn't stopped yet.  I think it may have something to do with having two young children. 

Just maybe.

The other factor would be the nutso factor. 

When you add coffee to the nutso factor - watch out. 

I cleaned the kitchen which is always an epic feat.  Always.  We have so many plastic kids dishes that can only be washed in the top rack that I always have a mountain of cups, plates and bowls that don't have any room in the upper rack so I have to wash all of those by hand, then the pots and pans, knives.....

The whole process of sustaining a human body with food is such a bother.  How nice would it be to just go outside and pick fruit and vegetables and eat.  Call it good.  No need to cook.  No need to clean. 

The sweeping led to vacuuming, the vacuuming led to moving some furniture which led to a curtain rod falling which led to curtains being washed which led to curtains being ironed. 

I suppose that stuff isn't nutso.  The nutso part is when I decided to strip the bed, wash the duvet, vacuum the mattress pad, the bed frame, two dressers and nightstands. 

Ryan was in the shower when I put the sheets on the bed.  In case you don't know I have to have the sheets perfect when I put on a fresh set.  After that, meh, not so much.  Ryan gets a kick out of wresting the corner of the sheet out of his hand to I can put it on properly.  And the way I smooth out all of the bumps and wrinkles in the top sheet so it lies perfectly flat.  I even make hospital corners - but I don't tuck the sheet in at the foot of the bed.  I'm like George Costanza in that I'm a "no tuck" person. 

As if that weren't crazy enough... I remembered that I had the ironing board out and the top of the flat sheet was so wrinkled that it wasn't making a straight line across the top of the bed.  Naturally, the only thing you can do it iron all of the seams of the top sheet.  And the pillow cases. 

When I plopped into bed I was a little disappointed in my self for not ironing the shams.  Really, that's what's going to be seen... by me and Ryan, the boys and our cat Bob.  I'm sure Bobby would much rather lay on an ironed sham than a wrinkly one.  Poor Bobby. 

The next day the craziness continued when we realized the freezer wasn't, well,  freezing.  Then we discovered the fridge wasn't refrigerating.  Working quickly we moved all of the food to the downstairs fridge in the laundry room.  Well, first I took out all of the beer and water and ginormous pot of chicken stock I completely forgot about. 

You wouldn't think it would be such a hassle to walk down stairs to grab some food for your kids for breakfast, lunch and dinner but it was a HUGE hassle.  We had a lot of take out over the last two days.  Most of that was because the kitchen was impassable.  If the fridge wasn't pulled out and the island butcher block moved then it was overflowing with all of the shelving, drawers and racks. 

Ryan spent Thursday evening figuring out the problem and Friday fixing it.  I spent Friday cleaning the inside of the fridge, washing every rack, every drawer, every shelf.  I didn't just wipe the stuff down, I scrubbed it with copious amounts of soap.  Then I spread them all over the kitchen and dining room table to dry. 

When I was trying to put a drawer back in the fridge I opened the door really wide and angled the drawer to slide it in.  The top pane of tempered glass slipped and shattered into a million little pieces, scattering themselves all over the kitchen, under the fridge, island, and dining room.  Theo was in the dining room and was fascinated by the sound of shattering glass and immediately started climbing out of his chair.  I said, "No, Theo, NO!  Ryan!  Help.  Ryan!" 

By this point Theo is standing barefoot on broken glass.  I quickly take a few steps on broken glass to get to him.  Just as I got to him Ryan arrived to pick him up. Theo starts to cry and I very gently brush the glass bits off his feet.  Fortunately, there were no cuts. 

I crawled over the baby gate to the chair that Theo was in then crawl to the next seat over, brush off my feet - also not cut - and scoot the chair away from the glass so I can get shoes on to help Ryan clean up the glass. 

Did you know that tempered glass keeps breaking after the initial crash?  As I was waiting maneuvering myself around on the dining room chairs I kept hearing pops coming from the kitchen.  I turned around and sure enough bits of glass were still breaking apart.  They weren't huge breaks but they were clearly forming new fissures.  It was pretty neat to watch. 

Cleaning up that mess was a big undertaking.  So big I worked up a sweat and took a shower afterwards. 

A couple of hours later I took a peak in the downstairs fridge and a glass bowl just slid out and broke on the concrete floor.  There was cellophane over the bowl so it helped contain the glass but still.  Another glassy mess to clean up. 

On the bright side off all of the breaking of appliances and glass - my floors are clean and my fridge is showroom clean.  Not a single item in the fridge is expired (my recycling bin is going to be overflowing with empty condiment bottles this week).  My, oh, my we have a lot of condiments. 

It is such a lovely sight to behold that I just want to go stare at it.  Or take a picture and post it on facebook.  

Nah, that would be really nutso. 

Nice Kitty

Days like today are what make living in Seattle great.  When the sun is out and it's warm - it's the best!  I've been to other sunny places and it's not the same.  We were in Arizona recently and it was sunny for a day or two while we were there and - eh.  It's just not the same.  It's a flat brown sprawling deserty suburb.  Of course, the company was fantastic.  And the cacti and citrus trees.  Those were super cool.  So cool in fact I took a bunch of pictures of orange trees.  Next time we go maybe Ryan and I will venture off to Sedona or something - I loooooovvvvvveee Sedona.  Anyhoo.... back to the Emerald City.

We've been cold and soggy since a nice week in March.  At least it feels like we've been living in perpetual rain.  The other day I thought about making some hot cocoa to warm myself up.  It's the middle of freakin' May!

So, with the sun out in it's full glory we hit the road for the zoo.  And by hit the road I mean, ate a leisurely breakfast, put Theo down for a nap, let Gavin play my Nintendo DS (he has his very own Elmo game) on Ryan's side of the bed so I could doze, and wrangle the boys for an hour and a half in an attempt to get out the house to do something fun. 

Our first stop was fun, fun, fun!  For me.  We went to True Value where I picked up an obscene amount of seeds to plant in my obscenely tiny garden.  I picked out carrots, colored carrots, peas, swiss chard, lettuce, cucumbers, pumpkins (I will be happy with just one pumpkin), beets and.....  I think that's it.  Now I just need to get one or two tomato plants.  Oh, and actually plant everything.

The penguins were a hoot today.  Well, one penguin was a hoot.  He was swimming back and forth along a glass enclosure following the kids as they walked back and forth.  It was so entertaining.  The kids shrieking with excitement wasn't my cup of tea, though.  I felt kind of like a scrooge.  Gavin is pretty quiet but I think if Theo was a little older and understood how unusual that little show the penguin was putting on was he would have been the loudest of them all. 

The hippo wasn't much of a hoot but it was the first time I saw the hippo in all the years I've been going there so I was really excited about that.  Another first for me and the boys was that this was the first time I didn't take them to see the ducks.  The ducks are my favorite part of the zoo.  No joke.  I really like ducks.  They are so cute what with all of their waddling and quacking.  So cute!

Every time we go to the lion exhibit they are always off in the distance taking a nap and just looking really depressed.  The last time we were there I couldn't help but notice some ducks who were in their enclosure by a small pond.  I kept thinking, "Does the lion not see them?  Do the ducks not see that huge cat over there?" 

Today we were in for a real treat as the lioness was front and center at the glass.  Looking into the eyes of a lion from 3 inches away is a little unsettling even with a nice thick glass barrier between us.  I crouched down and put my face right in front of hers and she sized me up and looked right in my eyes.  When our eyes connected for a very brief moment a shiver ran down my spine.

Gavin and Theo had noooo idea the lion was sizing them up as tasty little snacks.  Gavin and Theo were so excited to see this big cat that they were jumping up and down and trying to touch her face through the glass.  I told them that even though they were safe they should not tease the lion and to have some respect for it.  Sheesh.  Don't tease the lion!  It feels like you are just asking for it.    

Pharmaceuticals

This has been quite a week for me and Big Pharma. 

Last Friday morning I woke up and at some point inspected the disheveled woman staring at me in the mirror and to my dismay I saw little red bumps lining my upper lip.  I rubbed my lip and felt the familiar tingling sensation...

It looked like round 5 or 6 of the cold sore/impetigo mystery was brewing.  There was still hope, though.  I've had little bumps and the cold sore tingles that just *poof* went away.  I was hoping there would be some *poofing* but no such luck.

My regular doctor told me to see the dermatologist because she has no idea what's going on with me.  The dermatologist's office said they couldn't see me until next Wednesday and, after I called back to plead for an appointment they said they don't reserve space for same day appointments.  This is the same office where the last time I was there the Dermatologist said to me (after I asked him about my latest outbreak and if there was anyone he could refer me to and he said, "Well, maybe this is the last time it happens.").  I know - I should have never gone back after that profound medical insight on his part.  Is that what 8 years of medical school gets you?  Maybe it won't happen again?  Really?!

As each minute ticked by in the late morning I could feel my face being transformed.  Staph was colonizing my lips and chin and there was no one who could see me.  I sat on the steps in front of the house on the phone with my mom crying about how I wanted to see someone about this - I just needed to start antibiotics ASAP.  The sky was blue, the sun was shining, it was warm.  The day was too beautiful to be marred by this ugly, ugly thing. 

We had just returned from a mom's group when my doctors office called and the above series of phone calls set me off on my calls of pleading for an appointment.  It was now well past noon on Friday and if no one could see me I would have to go to the Emergency Room. 

As I was making an appointment to see a regular doc at a local clinic I almost shouted to the receptionist, "WAIT!  Do you have any same day appointments available with a dermatologist?!" 

When she said yes but it's at 1:45 with a 15 minute check-in so I would have to be there at 1:30 and could I make it, I probably did shout, "Yes!  I'll be there!" 

Fortunately I never took the boys out of the van - they sat in their car seats with the doors open while I called everyone under the sun that I could think of to make an appointment. 

Unfortunately I never took the boys out of the van while I called everyone under the sun.

They were hungry.

They were tired.

They were cranky.

Normally I am really good about feeding my children.

Normally I am really good about letting them sleep.

This was not a normal situation.

To make a long story a little less long - I saw the doc and she was befuddled.  She didn't give me antibiotics because she didn't know my history of the raging impetigo and as a good responsible doc she didn't prescribe me antibiotics all willy nilly based on some new patients self reporting even though she did see the first start of the infection.  Just the faintest beginning.  She had me take an extra strong dose of something I already take in hopes that would quell the beast.

But the beast was not to be quelled; by Saturday morning my face (read:  lips and chin) was a gross, crusty, drippy, honey colored, swollen mess.  That afternoon I had Ryan drop me off at the ER.  There the doctor who saw me gave me not one but two kinds of antibiotics to take. 

I didn't sleep well that night but the next day - from 10 am to 5 pm - I slept like a log.  The only reason I woke up was because Ryan checked on me to make sure I was still breathing.  After a few hours up and helping put the boys to bed I went back to sleep but not before I noticed a red patch over my left eye.

Frick! 

It had never spread beyond my lips and chin before this.  Why oh why would it decide to leap up my face?

About 3 am when I was up for a trip to the loo I noticed that what started out as a red itchy patch that was a tiny bit puffy was now flaming red, very itchy and my eye was almost swollen shut.

"Ryan, wake up.  I'm going to the emergency room, my eye is almost swollen shut."

"OK.  I'll pray for you...."  zzzzzzzzz

Just kidding.  I'm sure it took him at least two minutes to fall back asleep. 

3:30 in the morning is a great time to be in the ER.  It was a ghost town.  When the receptionist asked why I was there to be seen I pointed to my face and she said, "Oh, the obvious, huh?" 

"Yup."

The 2 nurses aides and nurse who checked me in - no joke - they were bored - had me change into a gown because they were certain I was going to be there a while since it looked like something was obviously going on. 

But no.  The doctor gave me a big dose of prednisone and sent me off with a prescription for more to take throughout the week. 

Whew. 

Geez, this is just getting longer and longer.....

On Monday it was back to the dermatologist who said it was probably an allergic reaction and sent me to the lab with a boat load of things to be tested for.  She kept looking at me and patting my knee and saying, "Oh, you poor thing."  I think she was really shocked to see how quick and virulent this thing on my face was.

I am eagerly waiting to hear what she has to say when the labs come back but in the meantime she's befuddled. 

Since the non-drowsy anithistamines did nothing to keep me from wanting to scratch my face off my only source of comfort on Tuesday was dunking my face in ice water every few minutes.  Ice.  Water.  I set up a big bowl full of ice, poured water on it and dunked my face in.  I told my friend I wanted to shove straws up my nose so I could just keep my head in the water all day.  It felt soooo good to make my face go numb. 

As a result of my facial melting, so to speak, Ryan was super helpful.  He's already helpful, mind you, but when your spouse's face looks like the spawn of Satan, the helpful factor gets ramped up.  So, I slept a lot over the weekend and late into the mornings. 
Sleep, as many of you know, is the great restorer of many things.

Well, two things:  energy and sanity.

Everything after that just falls into place.  When you have energy you can clean the house and yourself. 

The sanity is just gravy.  Sweet, soapy scented gravy on a freshly scrubbed body floating in a fur and dirt free, clutter free house.

Oh, that whole dirt and clutter free thing was compliments of the prednisone. 

So, sleep + prednisone = energized mommy.

And maybe a little crabby mommy by the end of the day.

And by the end of the week a wide awake mommy who is going to crash when I don't have prednisone to boost me up anymore.

Anyone have Barry Bond's trainer's number?

Mama needs some juice.

Bwahahaha! BWA HAHA!

He FINALLY asked me to put something girly on him.  I have waited patiently for the opportunity to take a picture of my boy in something girly for future use.  My cousins would dress up my brothers like girls and we have the pictures to prove it.  One year my older brother Ike was a girl for Halloween and when I show people the picture they say, "Aw, how cute - is that you?"  Bwahahaha! 

I'm still waiting for the day when Gavin tries on Chiara's dress up clothes since he's at her house once a week.  I've told my friend Cecelia that if Gavin shows an interest in trying on princess clothes that we would not be at all upset and to please, please take photos. 

This photo isn't that great but it's a start.  Just some fun bobby pins my friend Krissy made (if you are interested in her stuff you can find some more here.). 

One of These Days

Today was one of those days when I kept thinking, "One of these days..."

Today I raised the white flag and surrendered to potty training Gavin.  I told myself, "One of these days he will be ready.  He won't go to kindergarten in diapers."  For 6 days I told myself he was ready; that I was ready to this for the long haul.  But after the poopy underwear followed a few minutes later by the wet underwear (and wet carpet) - that I didn't find out about until I said, "Gavin, time to go potty," and he replied, "But I went pee pee in my underwear." - maybe he is not ready since he never tells me when he has to go.  And if I try to stretch beyond the 30-35 minute marker it usually ends in a watery mess.  Today's accidents coupled with his silence did me in.  I was ready for this to happen but I guess it isn't up to me.

When I rolled over and looked at the clock this morning and saw that it was a few minutes past ten I realized I slept too late and we missed church.  Then I begrudgingly got up and went into the living room to relieve Ryan since I knew he had a very big basketball game to watch - he's been looking forward to it all weekend and since he is not the kind of guy who is obsessive and obnoxious about watching every televised game (except during the Olympics.  Seriously, he will watch curling.  Curling.), I went and started to play with the boys so he could concentrate his eyes on watching the Huskies come really, really, really close to winning and making it to the Sweet 16.  I think.  Basketball is not something I would call a passion of mine.  Not even remotely. 

One of these days Theo will tell us what's wrong instead of screaming.

One of these days Theo will sleep through the night.

One of these days neither boys will be in diapers.

One of these days I won't ask, "Is that the dog or did one of the boys have a poopy?" and set out on a diaper checking mission. 

One of these days the announcement of dinner time won't be met with demands for "little bites,"  "medium bites", screaming, spoon throwing (Theo) and the Thank you, thank you Jesus song/prayer. 

One of these days getting dressed won't be an epic feat that defines the entire morning.

One of these days I will not remember having ever talked about myself in the third person.

One of these days I will sleep.

One of these days I will feel human again.

And when "one of these days" ever gets here I'm sure it will usher in new conundrums that will cause me to weep and wail.  But when those glorious days arrive I hope my boys are not too old to snuggle with their mama and give hugs and kisses.  As much as I'm looking forward to a quieter house I am really going to miss being super awesome in their eyes.  One of these days they will also realize how human and fallible I am.  We will all be ok so long as they know I love them to the moon and back.  At least that is my prayer.

Why

Before having children I didn't realize firsts (words, steps, smiles) were not always obvious.  It seems silly to question a first smile, word, crawl, step until you witness one.  Or think you witness one.  The first smile is blamed on gas.  The first crawl looks something like a dying sea creature trying to beach itself.  The first word may resemble a word but only a little.  Theo is a lagging in his language acquisition but that's fine.   Gavin was the same and yet he knew most of the alphabet by his second birthday.  I'm not too concerned.  I like to hear Theo babble and I get all sorts of excited when he graces us with one of his words, "Buh buh" is bye.  Banana is something along the lines of yaya.  My favorite is Mamamama.  Ryan's is probably Dadadada.  I think he even tried to say dump truck but only managed to say duh truh.

So to see a first, or in our case tonight - a new stage, and to realize you are in fact watching a first is something quite spectacular. 

Here is how this new stage played out in our house tonight.

Ryan was in the kitchen getting his plate ready for dinner.  Theo was in his highchair eating broccoli with cheese sauce (with a ratio of 1:2, that's one part broccoli and 2 parts cheese and if the ratio switched to 2:1 it was quickly rejected), Gavin was doing his best to avoid trying the broccoli and cheese sauce, the salad, the cucumbers, just dinner in general.  It was late and he had toys to play with.

Between shoveling food into Theo and coaxing Gavin to sit down at the table I was inhaling my salmon.

***Tangent:  it was the BEST salmon I've ever had at home.   Yum.  YUM!  YUM!  King Salmon is delicious.  It is such a fatty fish.  Mmm..... fat.*** 

I told Gavin he needed to sit at the table.

"Why?"

"Because we are a family and we eat together."

"Why?"

"Because we love each other and like to spend time together."

"Why?"

"Because....."  I don't remember what I said but it was clearly not a satisfactory answer to Gavin because he asked, "Why?"

Then to make sure we were knew he wanted some answers he said, "Why, why, why?"

My mouth dropped open and I turned to look at Ryan in the kitchen who turning his head with his mouth agape to look at me. 

"It started!" 

Ryan has been dreading the "why" stage.  Well, it's here, baby.   Oh, boy is it ever here.

Survey Says

Please help a girl out. Look at the picture below and take the survey. Tell me what you call the picture. That's it. Once the survey is closed I'll tell you what the breakdown of names are and why I care to know what you call it.  For the survey click here.

Indirect

It used to be one of my favorite ways to get to know a city.  I've done it in Vancouver, Portland and Seattle.  I manage to do it on a small scale, too, like say, in a rest area parking lot, the mall parking lot, a casino - any casino.  Oh, can't forget about, Kirkland, Bellevue, Renton....

I can get lost anywhere.  Really.  Just ask my family.  They saw me come out of a restroom at a rest stop and stop and look left, right and left again.  I was looking for the car.  One time I managed to drive clear across town, back in my days in the 'Couve.  The sad part is that my starting point was just one neighborhood away from the neighborhood I had lived in for 10 years.  I got turned around in her neighborhood, which, to my credit, I had only been in like once or twice before, and I kept turning and turning and before I knew it I was on the other end of town.

Today wasn't that bad but I kind of thought I've moved beyond the hopelessly lost phase of living in Seattle.  This fall will mark my 10th year in the Emerald City.  Hopeless is not a good word to describe the state I was in because I recognized the neighborhoods as I tried to weave my way to the highway to get home.

So, this is how it should have gone down:  Quenn Anne, Highway 99, home. 

Here is how it went instead:  Queen Anne, Fremont, Ballard, Fremont, Phinney, Wallingford,  I-5, home. 

A trip that should have only taken 15 minutes went beyond 30 minutes.  Oy. 

On the bright side I now know how to get from Queen Anne to Ballard super fast. 

Transparency

Have you ever feared your two worlds colliding?  No?  Have no idea what I'm talking about?

Well, congratulations are in order, for you are a transparent person. 

In High School I had long talks with a girlfriend about the many different roles we played in our lives.  Of course, we were trying to figure out our roles in life, where we belonged in the grand scheme of things.  Like all teenagers we had drama with our parents, real and imagined, drama with our friends, drama with our classes, drama with our teachers, drama with the boys we pined after.  Oh, the boys.  So many boys and so much pining.  I'm surprised my heart never gave out with all of its pitter patting over the silly, silly boys.  I was a silly, silly girl. 

I think I was pretty transparent at school when I saw a boy I liked.  The blood in my face shone right through my white skin.  Some days I cursed my fair skin.  It's so hard to deny being in like (I may have been a silly girl but I knew I wasn't in love) when your skin is flaming red. 

As I've grown and matured, at least I would like to think I've matured, I'm settling into the person I am.  I'm comfortable in my own skin.  Mostly comfortable in my beliefs.  That didn't come out right.  I am confident in my beliefs but sometimes it is hard to reconcile my beliefs with the world I live in - and often times embrace. 

I suppose this is the crux of my problem.  If I am completely transparent then I feel like I will offend a lot of people.  The conservative base from which I come would find my beliefs horrifyingly liberal (my family has NO idea how liberal I've become - they only think they know) while the left leaning Seattleites would find me to be Neanderthalic in some other beliefs. 

Oy.  What to do?  Keep my opinions to myself?  Bite my tongue?  It's hard to keep quiet - just ask Ryan.  Or my brothers.  Or my mom.  Or my dad.  Anyone who knows me, really. 

Trying to be Girly

We hired a photographer to come to the house and take pictures of us.  Ryan and I take great photos of the boys but there are very few great photos of the four of us together, or heck, even of just me and Ryan.  Ryan is photogenic so most all of his pictures turn out great.  Me?  Not so much.  Ryan will take pictures of me but he seems to see me the same whether I'm dressed up or down, with or without make up.  So when I'm looking a bit um, shall we say, rough around the edges, he sees April.  Just April.  While that is sweet and all it makes for some pretty blah photos.

Hence I thought it was time to get some good family photos.  A huge plus will be if I don't look like a haggard mother of two.   I'm hoping to look like a radiant, well rested mother of two.  I went to great lengths to make sure today would go well.  I bought a pretty new sweater that would look great with jeans.  Then I got boots that would look great with the sweater and the jeans.  I made sure my hair was good so I got it trimmed on Friday.  Make up was restocked on Thursday. 

And to make sure the curl was even in my hair and not just a bunch of curls in the back - because you know most photographers take photos of just the back of your head - I braided three sections of hair in the front like I do many nights of the week.

But last night I was a little over zealous in the braiding.  The braids were very tight.  Very.

After applying the toner, serum, moisturizer, foundation, concealer, blush, eye shadow and mascara I was ready to let my hair down and toss my head around like I was in a shampoo commercial.

From 1988.

Oy. 

The curls.  They were not good.  It looked like a crimper attacked my hair. 

So, I did what I do every other day of the year - I put my hair in a pony tail.  After a while I managed to do a half up, half down do. 

Then I was all ready for our candid family shots.  As directed by the photographer when the lighting was just right, after Gavin had been bribed with cookies to do as instructed.

When we look back on these photos years from now will I whitewash my memories to show the boys in cute matching outfits?  Me with my hair perfect acceptable and clothes all cute 'n stuff.  Will I remember Theo screaming because he slept too late for his morning nap and was gearing up for his afternoon nap?  We got just enough laughs out of him in between shots to make it worthwhile.

Of course, we really wanted to do outdoor shots on Alki but the pineapple express working its way through our area put the kibosh on those plans.  The rain did let up enough to allow some outdoor shots at the light rail station and for some on the walk home. 

I'm excited to get the photos back. 

I hope my hair isn't too dorky, there isn't cleavage and my lips don't look like they belong on Caspar the ghost because I forgot lipstick.

Lipstick!  I never wear it so it only makes sense for me to feel at home without it.  Oh, how the Pioneer Woman wouldn't faint at such a declaration.

If you don't know who the Pioneer Woman is... well.  You may just want to keep it that way since you would get sucked into her Black Heels to Tractor Wheels book and if you read her recipes you would gain 10 pounds just reading about all of the butter she uses.

Cria Cuteness

Did you know a baby alpaca is called a cria?  I didn't know either until we googled it on our way to a farm in Mason County to see two new babies.  My MIL's neighbor and great friend is on the board of trustees of some farm that .... shoot.  He told me what they do.  Something to do with salmon so I wasn't quite sure what the alpacas and goats at the farm had to do with salmon.  I didn't ask how they are connected. 

So I have some pictures of baby alpacas.  And from Thanksgiving, our tree cutting, gingerbread house decorating...  In no particular order.

Enjoy!

The spearmint hard candies have been fashioned into a van.  Gavin wasn't as interested in decorating the house as he was in making vans with which to decorate the side yard of the gingerbread house.  It's our hicksville gingerbread house.  We didn't have any candy that I thought could look like blocks to put the vans on. 

Van #2.  The yellow gum drops in the middle are the seats with the little gum drops being the people. 

Van #3.  We were low on materials so this one takes a little more imagination to visualize.

I found the key to a structurally sound gingerbread house lies in reading AND following the directions.  First put the sides together allowing each side to dry for 1 minute before adding the next.  Then letting the whole thing dry for an hour before adding the roof.  Then one more hour cure time before decorating. 

Gavin could only bring himself to put on the big candies as that was the safest way to ensure his fingers didn't have to touch the frosting.  He didn't know what the white glue was - I didn't tell him. 

He wanted to make more vans. 

Theo wasn't into the photo op. in front of our first Christmas tree at Camp Monten (Ryan's mom & step-dad's house).

Turns out Gavin likes the snow when he gets to sit in a sled and be pushed around by dad and chased by the dog.

12 hour old cria (baby alpaca). 

We tried and tried and tried to get a photo with the mama alpaca but she ducked out with each picture. 

This one was my favorite.  I wanted to hug it but settled for scratching her cute cheeks.  I asked her to not spit on me.  She was nice and complied.

Theo enjoyed the ride, too, although you would never know by the look on his face in this picture.

Gavin was mildly interested in the alpacas.

Apparently Theo didn't think having his head sniffed by an alpaca was as cute as everyone else. 

My niece Laura.  I can't believe she's 12!



Laura & Matthew.  12 years vs. 6 years.  Matthew's gingerbread house had a seismic activity shortly after this photo was taken.  

He was very proud of his house.



After the roof collapsed he decorated the inside of the house.  He was so proud of his gingerbread tree that wasn't broken.  He's so cute! 

Cousins Laura and Matthew playing with Gavin during their dance party.  Everyone likes to dance when Gavin breaks out his dancing skillz.



My brother got after his kids for jumping on Nana's couch not long after this was taken.  Oops.  I mean, Gavin, get off the couch like that! 

A flood of sprinkles came out.  It was quite a challenge to sweep all of the round sugar balls off the hardwood floors.  

Rabbit Hole in my Brain

Sometimes Ryan will give me a bewildered look in the middle of one of my riveting stories and say, "Where on earth did that come from?"  Apparently he doesn't realize I easily fall down rabbit holes in my head with the slightest verbal, olfactory or auditory stimulation.  Take the following hole I fell down tonight. 

While standing in the checkout line at QFC I scanned the freezer case behind me.  Was there anything on sale?  Anything on sale that I wanted?  No.  But I did see a Stouffer's frozen meal that was on sale.  That made me do a quick look for their frozen mac 'n cheese because their frozen mac 'n cheese is AMAZING. 

No joke. 

I became a frozen food connoisseur during our 6 month period of kitchenless living while we were remodeling our kitchen.  I think I also gained 20 pounds but that is neither here nor there.  

Actually, it is here.  I'm sitting on it.

Anyhoo. 

Seeing the Stouffer's frozen food made me think of a frozen lasagna I bought almost two years ago.  It was really gross and I was mortified that it was so gross because it was the dinner I contributed to a weekend away with another couple to Birch Bay.  To make sure the gross meal was completely gross I also bought a flavorless pre-buttered loaf of french bread.  Both items were purchased at my local teeny tiny grocery store. 

That got me to thinking, "Why did I buy that no name brand of lasagna?"  Then I remembered it was because I didn't have time to go to Costco to buy their ginormous fattening and delicious lasagna and make it to the ferry on time.  Or to QFC to buy a normal size, fattening and delicious Stouffer's frozen lasagna. 

Then I remembered I was pregnant with Theo while we were there.  I think I was getting close to feeling him move inside of me because I remember standing in the yard at the cabin looking at the ocean and rubbing my hands on my belly as I swayed from side to side. 

Then a shocking feeling swept over me:  nostalgia.

Blah!  Nostalgic for pregnancy?  Nooooooo!!!!

Slap me. 

If I told Ryan he might.  Just kidding.  He would never do that. 

Granted, Theo's incubation period was nothing like Gavin's.  It was a cake walk in comparison.  But, still, nothing I want to repeat. 

Now baby cuddles.  Those I would like to repeat. 

Sleepless night?

No thanks. 

Getting peed on?

No thanks.

First smiles?

Yes, please.

Seeing your baby throw his blankie and pacifier to the ground as he shrieks in pure delight and runs to you when you first walk in a room. 

Yes, please. 

Gag Me With a Spoon, Like Totally

I couldn't decide on the title of this post.  The other two titles that tempted me were, "Barf" and "Get a Room".

Who wouldn't want to read about barf?  Or be intrigued by someone needing to get a room?

Ryan was gracious enough (or silly, or naive, or plain ol' dumb) to give me a free pass tonight in what was shaping up to be a rough bedtime with Gavin.  And by rough I mean horrible.  We put Theo in the crib tonight because I realized the mattress in the pack 'n play has a lump in the middle and the poor guy probably wasn't comfortable. 

Theo sleeping in the crib upstairs means we have no other place to park Gavin if (when) he decides he would rather not sleep in his bed but would prefer to waltz out into the living room and join Mom and Dad's evening party.  You know, when the kids go to sleep we eat ice cream, play with trains, dance, sing the coolest songs (Are You Sleeping, Mary Had a Little Lamb, BINGO...); all kids know that the real party begins as soon as their eyes close. 

Gavin wouldn't stay in his bed.  Ryan eventually turned off all of the lights so the house was dark - not pitch black because we have lots of street lights to light up the house - but for us city folk it was pretty darn dark.  Gavin didn't care.  So, Ryan and I just sat there and Gavin just stood there trying to engage us.  He came over to me and kissed my stomach because he couldn't reach my face.  His lips made a very audible kissy sound and he announced, "I kiss Mommy."

I slapped my hand over my mouth to help me keep it together.  In the pale moon street light I could see Ryan with his hand over his mouth also trying to keep it together.  It was so hard to not burst out laughing.  Of course, it killed me that I couldn't give him a big fat hug and kiss, either. 

At this point we had already taken away his work bench for the next day, warm milk (he has a problem with the warm moo juice) and his train set.  Oy.  Tomorrow is going to suck.  Hopefully he gets it. 

After a few minutes Ryan told me I could go to Trader Joe's if I wanted to - it was my plan after all, to shop after the kids were asleep. 

So, it was at Trader Joe's that I witnessed the encounter that was straight out of a movie. 

Even though I don't need coffee, tea or hot chocolate I looked at their selection like I always do.  Don't ask me why I look at products I don't need - maybe it's like looking at cookies and ice cream.  I really like them, I don't always buy them but I most certainly will look. 

I swung my cart around from the meat section and turned my gaze to the coffee section when my eyes landed on a woman who was dressed really nice for a shopping trip.  Not Desperate Housewives nice or anything but still, nice.  She immediately caught my attention, not because of her attire but because of her eyes.  They were smoldering. 

She leaned in close, and she was already close, to a guy facing her and said, "I love you."  She was oozing wanton desire for this man.  Oozing it I tell you. 

Since I didn't actually hear her and just read her lips she could have said, "Olive juice" but based on his reaction (which wasn't to point her to the olive section) she was proclaiming her love for him.  Then they cut whatever distance was between them til it was none and kissed. 

And it wasn't just any kiss.  It was a Desperate Housewives kiss.  Really.  Her eyes went all dreamy and she may as well have sighed and put her hand on her forehead as she kissed her lover.

And I do mean lover. 

Yeah, yeah, I know.  Gag me with a spoon, like totally. 

Who knew a couple having their coffee beans ground at Trader Joe's could be so steamy? 

At that point I turned my attention to the display of fancy breads right next to me. 

Lest you think I stood there staring at their over the top display of affection whilst I chowed on popcorn like it was a scene from a movie (it was like a scene from a movie, though), their whole encounter lasted about 2 seconds. 

Two seconds more than I cared to see, though.  We aren't in Europe, people! 
Save your bedroom eyes for... the bedroom.  Really. 

What really shocked me was what I saw at the checkout.  Dreamy Smooching couple was in front of me at the checkout.  Mr. Dreamy Smooching, also dressed nicely, had a cool looking ring on his ring finger on his left hand.  "Hmm," I thought, "could they be married?"

Ms. Dreamy Smooching took her hand out of her coat pocket after what felt like ages so I could see if she had a ring on her left ring finger.  Sure enough, she did.  And it looked like it may have gone with Mr. Dreamy Smooching's ring so my only conclusion was that they were married - and married to each other.

Then I felt bad.

Look at them in that stage of love. 

Ryan would keel over if I planted one on him at the grocery store. 

Then he would grab me by the shoulders and say, "Woman!  Who are you?  Where's my wife?"

You might say neither of us are big on pda. 

For you younger folks, that means public display of affection and for you older folks it can also mean personal data assistant.  I wonder if, since personal data assistants lasted for a nanosecond before phones got all smart 'n stuff, pda again means public display of affection?

Urban Delights

Here are some photos from Ikea (in Renton, so it's not that urban but it is very delightful), the park overlooking the city and a shot of the city on our way home from the park.  Of course, the most delightful parts of this post are my adorable boys.  Adorable!

So goofy.  So cute.

 

Gavin hates to get messy but he will make an exception for ice cream.

 

Tired of my slow pace of shoveling ice cream into his face he swiped the spoon.

A frequent sight in our neck of the woods. 

Gavin loooves the slide.

He really wanted to climb this.

He wanted the sunglasses and mittens on.  It was just as well since it was c-c-c-cold and bright outside.

Theo has a hard time reaching the snack tray (on my to do list:  get a snack tray for Theo's side) so Gavin was handing them to his beloved little brother.  It was SO sweet.  

Watching in complete admiration as big brother prepares to come down the slide.

He tried to climb up the slide.  Don't worry, I didn't let him get more than 3/4 of the way up. 

The only thing this photo doesn't capture is the delighted shrieking sound he's making.



A man on a mission.

Peak-a-boo!



I love to see the city's skyline when we are just in the neighborhood haning out.

Hand in mouth.

Mitten in mouth, hand is free.

Mitten is long gone. 

Sun setting over the Olympic Mountains was a good signal that we should head for home.

Look at that happy boy!  He was running in circles.

Almost home.  I love living in the city.