Re-Writing Motherhood

Happy New Year To You All!

2012-01-01T05:09:00.000-08:00

I realize that I haven't been the world's best blogger of late. And I actually feel pretty unapologetic about it. I haven't had anything profound (or even not-so-profound) to write about, so I've spared you a lot of boring posts.

It's 2012 now, and time for resolutions and fresh starts. So what's on my mind this year?

I really only have one resolution, and that's to completely rehaul my diet. Nothing I've tried has worked in the longterm. Even though I actually do prefer fruit and vegetables to bread, I gravitate to the bread like a fly to...well, you know. Even though I know that there isn't a single healthy thing going on in a piece of cake, it goes straight into my body. My taste buds are an annoying group of hedonists who pay absolutely no attention to the needs and wants of my brain (and stomach). For all the pleasure my mouth derives from food, I can't say the same for my stomach. Everything I eat (and lately, it's been nothing but holiday crap), makes my body feel terrible. I know this, and yet I head straight to the cheese and crackers, the ice cream cake, the cookies, the cocoa, etc. when there's a perfectly lovely container of brussel sprouts and some gleaming yellow grapefruits in the fridge.

I've got heart disease on EVERY branch of my family tree. Obesity on EVERY branch, too. I look in the mirror and hate what I see. I want to eat better. I want to be that person who toodles down to the farmer's market every week, and comes home with bags laden with lovely local produce, that she whips up into amazingly healthy meals for herself. But I'm more likely to be the one rushing into Price Chopper at 5:30 for a pizza because I can't think of anything to cook.

To break the cycle, I feel like I'm going to have to do something really drastic, because no diet I've tried so far as broken my cravings for foods that do my body no benefit.

I recently read two things in Marilu Henner's book The Thirty Day Total Health Makeover that really made an impact on me.

1) The purpose of cow's milk is to turn a 95 lb calf into a 400 lb full-grown cow within a year. Additionally, we are the only species that drinks another species' milk, even though the thought of drinking our own milk (which was actually designed to work with our own digestive system) completely and utterly disgusts us.

2) Marilu Henner said "If you don't make time to be healthy, you'll have to make time to be sick."

Er...Since you put it that way...

So this year, I'm trying something radical. I'm giving up sugar (the white, refined kind), caffeine (which is really easy because my body no longer tolerates it anyway), red meat, and dairy. Red meat and dairy are going to be painfully hard. I foresee lots of misery there. But I'm going to try it and see if my body responds.

And since I learned last year that I really don't much care for poultry, I'm most likely going to move toward some form of pescetarianism. This will be interesting because I'm not a huge fan of most kinds of seafood. I foresee becoming mostly vegetarian as this plays out (although I will always eat whatever I'm served if I'm eating at someone else's home.).

I'm going to be leaning heavily on my already-vegetarian friends this year because it occurred to me that, as much as I love them, I don't know how to prepare vegetables that aren't deep fried or boiled to death. So if anyone has any good vegetarian recipes, send them my way. I'll post a new one on here from time to time and let you know how it's going in my kitchen.

I still haven't figured out what I'm going to do about Tom and the boys as I change my diet. They need to eat too, and I seriously doubt that they'll want to give up what I'm giving up. I lack inspiration. But we'll figure it out.

In any case, I wish all of you a happy and healthy New Year! Here's to a great 2012!

Happy Birthday-Reflection 2011

2011-12-24T10:09:00.000-08:00

Even though I technically have another week to go before the end of the year, my birthday always makes me feel reflective. So what better time to tackle 2011's Reflection Questions?

1. What was the single best thing that happened this past year?

Wow. That's a tough one right off the bat. So many good things happened, and since this is my reflection and I make the rules, I'm not sticking to just one. In no particular order, they would be losing weight, getting Ruby, Sam starting Kindergarten/John starting preschool, and joining Book Club.

2. What was the single most challenging thing that happened?

Having to make the decision to put Sammy down. I'm sad about it every day. It was a decision that made our daily life more peaceful, but I loved him and wanted him to get well. And now I really miss him.

3. What was an unexpected joy this past year?

I've begun to reconnect again with my pre-kids feminine self. As I pointed out to Tom, there were many years there that everything I owned-from my bag, to my clothes, to my shoes, to my hair, etc. all had to be ulitarian and kid proof. Now I'm finding that I can dress up again, and can pretty safely assume I won't be leaving the house with not-stained clothes. I can carry a purse instead of a diaper bag. I can wear heels, and have higher maintenence hair. With all the testoterone floating around my house, it's been fun feeling girly again.

4. What was an unexpected obstacle?

My biggest obstacle to getting anything done is managing the boys' moods. I spend a lot of time helping them navigate their feelings, and trying to keep things on an even keel around here. A lot of the time, I avoid doing activities with them just because I know that it will upset the balance of calm that I've worked so hard to achieve. If I didn't have to worry about their reactions to new situations, we would be out and about a lot more often.

5. Pick three words to describe 2010.

Settled, homey, comfortable.

6. Pick three words your spouse would use to describe your 2010 (don’t ask them; guess based on how you think your spouse sees you).

Cluttered, messy, unpredictable.

7. Pick three words your spouse would use to describe their 2010 (again, without asking).

Challenging, busy, return.

8. What were the best books you read this year?

The book I'm still thinking about months after I read it is The Story of Beautiful Girl by Rachel Simon. I also enjoyed The Art of Racing in the Rain and Midwife of the Blue Ridge.

9. With whom were your most valuable relationships?

Such a hard question! I don't really think you can categorize one relationship as more valuable than another any more than you can categorize one drop of water in a full bucket as more important than another drop.

That said, I was lucky enough to find myself invited to join a book club with a fantastic group of women. They (mostly) live in Glenville and their children all go to a different elementary school. Our paths would never have crossed had it not been for book club bringing us together. And it's not an ordinary book club. We do have a book selection, that some of us read, but we barely talk about the book. What was supposed to be a two-and-a-half hour long meeting about books, has turned into an into-the-wee-hours laugh fest about anything and everything. In some respects I still barely know these women, but I consider them some of my best and most engaging friendships.
10. What was your biggest personal change from January to December of this past year?

Really, this wasn't a year of many changes, epecially after last year, which was new in every way. I think this year could be categorized as a time when I took on a few things that made absolutely no sense whatsoever just because they brought joy to my life. The first was getting Ruby over the summer. I've been enjoying working with her, doing obedience classes together, and planning her future as an Earth Dog/Therapy Dog. The other thing I did this year was sign up to be a thirty-one consultant, even though I've never given sales any thought at all. I plan to have fun with it and see where it leads.
11. In what way(s) did you grow emotionally?

I learned how to push myself harder. Whether it was writing my novel, or going to the gym and trying a new workout, to asserting myself, and making new friends--I think I lost some of my compacency, some of my I'm-going-to-sit-back-and-see-what-happens mindset. I'm willing to take a few more personal risks, just because it feels good to know I made something happen.

12. In what way(s) did you grow spiritually?

In the fall, I went to a seminar on animal totems, just because New Agey woowoo stuff appeals to me. I found out that two of my most dominate animals are the bear and the snake, which apparently makes me a natural born healer. I'm not sure how much credence I give this, but it certainly changed my perspective about myself and the way I feel about things and interact with others. I often find myself wondering if I'm being as helpful/healing as I could be, and if there's more that I could be doing for others--which, regardless of your spiritual leaning, is a good question to ask yourself.

13. In what way(s) did you grow physically?

I'm physically stronger than I was this time last year, and even though my weight has fluxated up and down (mostly up), I'm still 15 lbs lighter than I was in December 2010. The past year has been a real learning experience for me--figuring out what types of exercise are realistic for my body. I really wanted to run this year, but that didn't work out for me. Instead, I discovered cycling and weight training, which make me feel strong. And Tom and I have started weight traing together as a sort of Saturday morning date, and that makes me feel good too.

14. In what way(s) did you grow in your relationships with others?

In the past, I think I've been too passive and too busy to reach out to my friends. This year I realized the importance of reaching out, just to reconnect and my friendships are better for it.

15. What was the most enjoyable area of managing your home?

Ok, this is going to sound a little crazy, but I'm taken a lot of pleasure in my "kitchen notebook." Instead of having piles of information all over the kitchen, or worse, not being able to find anything because it got thrown away, before school started I bought a binder with clear plastic sleeves, and I put anything I need to be able to find--school info, business cards, menus, etc. in the binder. In the front sleeve I printed out a stack of blank Box Tops sheets, and as I cut Box Tops off things at home, I glue them right to the sheet. When the sheet is full, I send it to school. I also keep notecards in the binder, so it's easy to jot off a quick note to Sam's teacher. I've been very organized about getting things back and forth to school because the system works great!

16. What was your most challenging area of home management?

Saving money is challenging, especially as prices continue to rise and the quality of groceries goes down. I've discovered that coupons don't really help when you're trying to move away from eating a lot of processed foods. And even though it was certainly inexpensive for Sam to eat school lunch, the food was unhealthy and sending him the wrong message about what he needed to be eating. Feeding my family wholesome, healthy food on a budget is going to be something I continue to work on through 2012.
17. What was your single biggest time waster in your life this past year?

I suppose the politically correct answer is surfing the internet and reading Facebook updates. But I enjoy catching up and hearing about what other people around the world are doing and sometimes it inspires my writing or helps me relax. I think the actual biggest time waster in my life is all the stuff that I do for my family that goes unnoticed and unappreciated or that I do without any benefit to myself. For example, when asked what he thinks I do when he's not around, Sam's response was, "She goes to the store and buys me Cheez-its." I rest my case.

18. What was the best way you used your time this past year?

I did a lot of reading--for research, for pleasure, to the boys at bedtime, and it is always time I consider well spent.

19. What was the biggest thing you learned this past year?

That moving to New York was the best thing I've ever done. There's something about being here--our house--my friends--all my cumulative experiences here--that have colored my life with a rosy sense of satisfaction. I really have nothing to complain about.
20. Create a phrase or statement that describes 2011 for you.

More of the same. And I mean that in a good way. :-)

The Top Secret Christmas Craft For 2011 Revealed!

2011-12-23T04:04:00.000-08:00

First of all, I want to state for the record that I did not come up with this genius (and utterly adorable) idea myself. Someone out there is waaaaaay more creative than I'll ever be. But thank God for the internet, where other people show you how to fake it. :-)

So without further ado, here is what we made:

Snow Globe Soap!

I found the idea here at alphamom.com.. The author, Brenda Ponnay, gave great directions, and the boys and I had no problem making the soap (for the most part). Want to avoid making the mistakes we did? Read on.

While I got our materials together and cut the block of glycerin with a knife, I kept Sam busy by letting him grate white Ivory soap (snow) with the cheese grater. As you can see, he was very happy with his job.

John helped supervise the melting of the glycerin in the microwave. It took about 3 minutes to melt the glycerin block. John was less happy with his job. (He wanted to grate snow, too.)

Getting started was easy, so I felt super confident that we would have the most beautiful and perfect snow globe soap ever. And that's when things went downhill...
The next step was to add dye and perfume to the soap. The vanilla scent was great. No problems there. Then I added two drops of blue dye the first batch of glycerin, and it was a little too blue. For the next batch, I only added one drop of blue and it looked much better. Lesson learned. I had gone into this project guns blazing, ready to make perfect soap, but without any soap making experience between the three of us, it became clear to me that what we really needed was a soap-making practice run.

After I poured the glycerin into the ice cube tray (1/3 of a block of glycerin fills half a tray, by the way), the boys added some little reindeer/snowman/gingerbread man buttons to the soap. I made sure that they put the little buttons upside down and facing out, but I didn't pay attention to their positioning, since I believed that the soap would be clear and they would show up well wherever they were. I was wrong. (More about that later...)

Once the toys were inside, Sam added a later of freshly-grated snow, and I poured more melted glycerin on top to seal it. Very quick and easy. Except it was about this point that I realized I'd forgotten to added any soap glitter to the soap (which needed to happen before it went in the ice cube trays). *sigh* Again I reminded myself: practice run.

We put the trays in the freezer to harden for an hour or so, and with the help of a knife, they popped out of the tray very easily. Unfortunately, the soap was not completely clear, and only the buttons we'd placed very close to the outer edge of the "snow globe" showed up well. This was disappointing, because the snow globe effect is much better if you can see the objects inside the soap. Of the 14 snow globes we made, only 2 or 3 turned out well, so we had to make another batch.

Luckily, as crafts go, this one is not expensive. It's not long and involved either, so we whipped out another (perfect) batch in no time.

They turned out really cute, and the boys enjoyed playing with the imperfect soaps in the bathtub.

The Further Adventures Of Patrick December 11th

2011-12-11T04:09:00.000-08:00

In case anyone was curious, yes, Patrick does windows!

Here he is on his suspended scaffolding, with his squeegee, paper towels, and Windex. Thanks Patrick!

The boys had a very long and involved discussion this morning about whether 1) it was really safe for Patrick to be sitting like that, suspended in the air. The consensus was no, it really wasn't safe. He was very high... And 2) if it was very kind of Patrick to use one of their blocks without asking. That, too, was deemed unkind...

Something New And Different

2011-12-10T11:33:00.000-08:00

It all started with a bag. This bag, to be exact:

Now, I'm exceedingly picky when it comes to my purse. (This is probably why I've used the same black leather Fossil backpack/purse for the last six years). I like to have my hands free, and I don't like purses that just sit there looking practical. My dream purse is either a backpack or a cross-body, and it's got to be a little funky. Not crazy funky. Just funky enough. The kind that's quilted, say, in a nice floral pattern.

So I had one of those "Where have you been all of my life?" moments when I saw this bag. *cue the angelic voices on high*
My friend Stephanie was wearing it at an Odyssey of the Mind meeting. I'd never seen anything like it before, so I said, "I love your bag," having already decided in my head that no matter where or when she said she'd bought it, I was going to move heaven and earth, and ebay if need be, to get one. Imagine my relief when she said, "Oh, thanks. It's a thirty-one bag. Kate (another friend) sells them."

I had heard of thirty-one before when I lived in South Carolina (otherwise known as The Home of the Cute Purse). But me and my Fossil bag weren't paying attention because we were too busy dodging spit up and lugging diapers around. I made my mind up right then and there that at the very first opportunity (like, the milisecond I saw Kate) I was going get her to order one for me RIGHT THEN AND THERE.

So, perhaps it was fate that that very same evening, there was an email in by inbox from Kate, asking if anyone would like to host a thirty-one party. Well, I had been down that road before and I knew (frugalista that I am) that if I booked a party, there was a good chance I could get my bag at a discount. Heck, I might get it for free. So I wrote Kate back and said, "Sign me up!"

Fast forward to my party. I am southern, after all, so I put out a spread. And being a home party hostess veteran, I fully expected everyone to huddle in the kitchen with the food, socializing, and studiously avoiding the product table until it was time for Kate's presentation. How wrong I was. My friends made a beeline to the purses, totes, thermal bags, and accessories, forgetting about the food, forgetting about the "party", even forgetting about me! (And I'm totally ok with this.) They racked up so many sales that I ended up getting my purse (yeah!), the matching wallet, and two teacher gifts, all for FREE. Do the happy dance with me, people.

So Kate and I were talking afterwards and she said, "You should really be a thirty-one consultant." Automatically I was like, "No thanks. Not for me. I don't do sales."

But like all the niggling little thoughts that eventually become full blown obsessions for me (ie. getting Ruby--and see how well that turned out), I began to think to myself, "Hmmm.... I like everything in the catalog. I would use everything in the catalog. It's fairly affordable. Why not?" So then I called Kate back and said, "Okay, I'm in."

I won't officially enroll until Tuesday, and I already have one order, a party scheduled, and a few more possibly in the works. I can't wait to see where this leads me.

Come next Tuesday, I will post information about my new thirty-one website where you can browse, shop, and book parties (Pretty please! You can get free stuff too!)

But never fear, I'm not going to put the hard sell on you and I'm still going to be writing. I'll just be keeping my laptop and all my writing supplies organized in a really cute bag from now on. :-)

This week I met my goal of writing 35,000 words before Christmas. I'd like to pound out another 5000 words and be at the official halfway point, but since things are moving at an acceptable pace, and I'm doing this all while having lots of Christmastime fun with the boys, I really can't complain. The thing about writing is that it has put my creativity quotient into overdrive, and since I need an outlet for it, I've been having a RIDICULOUS time with our Elf on the Shelf Patrick lately, letting him go wild with crazy adventures.

Yesterday he baked cupcakes for the boys.

Thursday he had coffee with some friends.

Earlier in the week he was a pirate.

And he got into our beading supplies.

Patrick has some big plans for the rest of this week, so that means I've got work to do! Check back here or on facebook to see what he does next!

Aunt Ethel's Ham Delights

2011-12-02T05:38:00.000-08:00

As I type this, the boys are downstairs, gleefully exclaiming over Patrick, our Elf on the Shelf,'s latest location (inside a cereal box). They are enthralled with the magic of Christmas. But I find myself in a bit of a funk. The house is lit up, the tree is decorated, cookies have been made, presents are bought and wrapped... I feel like there's nothing left to do but wait the season out. Since I'm finding a lot of time on my hands, my mind wanders back to the wonderful Christmases of my childhood. I feel a little lonely for those days.

The days leading up to Christmas were the best time of the year for me. My grandfather was the chief Bringer of Holiday Cheer in the family, and his ten siblings (most of whom lived in the area) were his Helpful Elves. I spent a lot of time with my second cousins--the grandchildren of these great-aunts and uncles--and it helped ease this only-child's holiday loneliness.

Our extended family was large and extremely close. We all loved to eat together, and no Maxwell family holiday was complete without the family potluck. Each great-aunt was a fabulous cook, and had a signature dish, so every holiday meal was the same. In fact, at every get together--births, deaths, Fourth of July--those dishes were always present. They reminded us of good times, bad times, and every time in between. They reflected the very essence of our lives. And there was something about the strange variety of dishes, each reflecting the bearer's personality, that made you feel warm and loved and hugged with every mouthful.

I really can't describe what it was like, those years when all my great-aunts were all still living. The food was transcendent. Nothing I say will do it justice. But the food was just the prelude for the real highlight of the gathering, which was the storytelling. Our family gatherings were full of stories--The One About Sam and the Hornet's Nest, The Christmas Aunt Myrtle Eloped, When Uncle Glenn Got Sprayed By The Skunk, The One Where Pat Danced In The Creek In Her Church Clothes, How Aunt Hattie Went To School, and Granddaddy's General Store.

These stories sparked my imagination and I became a writer at these gatherings.

Writing my novel has transported me home again, and I often find myself in the world their words created. Whenever I'm stuck on a particular section, I wish I could talk to them again Sadly, most of my great-aunts and uncles are gone now. Their stories, and the food that told it, are left to my memories.

Luckily, the recipes remain.

Of all the food at our family holiday party, my favorite dish by far was Aunt Ethel's Ham Delights. Here is the recipe:

1 lb boiled ham, sliced fine
5 oz swiss or cheddar cheese
1 stick softened margarine
3 T mustard
3T poppy seeds
1 t Worcestershire sauce
1 med finely chopped onion
2 pans of small Parker House rolls (although any pan of soft rolls will work)

Preheat oven to 400 F. Slice rolls in half. Mix together margarine, mustard, poppy seeds, Worcestershire sauce, and onions. Spread between sliced rolls. Place ham and cheese between sliced rolls. Place sides of rolls together. Wrap in aluminum foil. Heat approximately 15 min or until cheese is melted. Can be frozen before cooking.

I hope you will try them this holiday season. And then tell someone a story.

I Will Sit With You And Hold Your Stories

2011-11-15T04:32:00.000-08:00

Last week, I went to the APF in Scotia because they had invited Animal Communicator Susan Hamilin to come speak to the community. I wasn't sure what that would entail, but every scenario I thought of sounded interesting to me. I really love the animals I share my life with, and even though I feel like I intuit a lot of what they're thinking, Animal Communication fascinates me.

The animals I live with do communicate with me. When Tuendi wants to go with me when I'm leaving, she refuses to come in the house, and hovers at the fence, her face hopeful and her tail wagging. It's pretty clear what she wants. But sometimes I think it would be great if Tuendi could say to me, "You know, I haven't been on a car ride in a while. Could we go for a drive today and look at all the Christmas lights?" It would be nice if she could initiate things for herself without me having to guess what it is she's thinking and wanting. But perhaps that is the difference between humans and animals and why we like having them around in the first place. It's a relief to have a relationship with another creature that wants very little from you besides your company.

Which brings me to a story Susan told. There was a cat in a shelter--a big nasty Tomcat that frequently fought with and injured the other cats. The shelter considered him unadoptable due to his volatile personality. She was brought in to talk to him and see how she could help him communicate with the shelter staff. His first complaint was that he hated his Roman-gladiator-type name. He wanted a new name. He wanted to be called Jasper. And then he was very specific about who he wanted to live with. He helped Susan compose a new advertisement for himself on the shelter website, where he said he wanted to live with a teenager. He said, "I will sit with you and hold your stories."

I heard that, and had one of those soul-shaking realizations. What a beautiful sentiment. And the writer in me immediately realized that, although I'd never thought of it that way, that is why I love having animals in my life. They sit with me and hold my stories.

Tuendi and Sammy and Ruby have all seen me working on my current novel. Sometimes I think they can read my thoughts, and know when the writing is flowing, and are sympathetic when they're not. It's reassuring to write with them around. I am lost in my own little world, yes, but I'm never alone. And since dogs vote with their feet, if they're around me, it's because they want to be. That's a big confidence boost. I never feel like I should be doing something else when I'm writing and they're sprawled out comfortably around my feet. We're all in agreement that there's really nothing better we could be doing.

My dogs also know me. I daresay they know me better than the boys or Tom knows me. We all live together, but unlike the human members of our family, my dogs are always (minus trips to the backyard) with me. Tuendi was present the day I met Tom online, and was almost always under my feet during our marathon IM chats. By the time I started writing my graduate thesis, I had Sammy and Tuendi, and both of them would hang out with me among my books and notes while I composed on my PC. They were at our wedding. They were there when we built our first house in Greenville, moved in, moved to Ohio, moved back, moved to New York. Tuendi and Sammy were there when I won my first play writing contest. And they were witness to the day when I accidentally locked myself in our storage shed. While I was pregnant with Sam, I was writing my first novel and had helacious morning sickness, and the dogs hung out with me, wearing the same path I did between my desk and the bathroom. The same was true when first Sam, and then John, was a baby. In the middle of the night, they were with me for those late night feedings, the sleepless nights. When I had pneumonia/whooping cough and could barely stay conscious long enough to take care of infant John and 2-year-old Sam, they stayed with me, guarding the house, and keeping the boys company while I slept. Tuendi and Ruby were there to see Sam on and off the bus on his first day of school. They are with me when I'm otherwise alone. They are the silent witness to my day, every day.

The writer in me appreciates the fact that even though they know the truth about me, they don't tell a soul. They hold my stories, in more ways than one, and for that, I am forever grateful.

On Veteran's Day

2011-11-11T08:09:00.000-08:00

On this Veteran's Day, I'm thinking of my favorite veteran: my grandfather, Sam Maxwell.

In his honor, I'll share one of his best "war stories".

While stationed in the air force in England, he got bored one day, and this mountain boy from Western North Carolina decided to go hunt quail. He was using some high-powered military-issued gun, and it wasn't too long before the MPs showed up and escorted him to the commanding officer on base, who asked my grandfather what he'd been shooting at. My grandfather said, "Crows." (He knew it was illegal to shoot quail because they technically belonged to the local landed gentry, but coming from the US, where hunting on private property was an accepted form of grocery shopping, he thought the law was ridiculous and chose to ignore it.) The commanding officer, who was a country boy himself, handed him a .22 and said, "Here, son, use this. It don't make near as much racket." My grandfather loved telling this story and always laughed at that part.

No matter how much he tried, he could never seem to get himself in trouble. :-)

He was actually shooting the birds to take to a local farmer and his wife that he had befriended. The wife would always sweat out his missions, watching the sky to make sure his plane made it home. She made him a silk scarf and embroidered the city name for each of his missions on it. Meat was scarce, and he would often hunt for them and trade them for fresh eggs. One night he and some friends snuck into the mess hall after hours and cooked up some eggs, fried up some potatoes, and some rabbits they'd hunted. They were in the middle of their dinner when a superior walked in, all ready to catch them up to no good. He looked around, saw the food, grabbed a piece of rabbit meat, sat down to join them, and said, "Boys, any time you want to have a party, it's alright with me." I suppose this was one of the few happy times he had during that time. He talked about coming back one night from a mission to his barracks (for some reason he wasn't in the same barracks as the rest of his crew) and NO ONE came back. He only had a cat for company that night, that came in and slept with him. My grandfather HATED cats, but that night, he was grateful for the company.

I don't think I ever fully appreciated what he went through in England until I was in high school and watched the movie Memphis Belle. My grandfather didn't know the crew of Memphis Belle personally, but they were stationed in England at the same time and flew many missions together. Many of the situations captured in the areal footage are situations my grandfather saw firsthand. He was the right waist gunner on his B-17, so he had a front row seat in the theater of war. After I saw the movie, I called him and I asked him questions about what his own experiences were like for hours. He wasn't the most talkative person in the world, and never really talked about his experiences much. After this conversation, I never saw him in quite the same light. Because of his service to his country, he had prevented me from having to witness and experience the terrible things he did.

Here is the exciting story about his crew limping back to England on one engine and making an emergency landing in Devon: http://www.303rdbg.com/c-358-oxrider.html

In an odd twist of fate, when I was an exchange student in Hungary, my class took a trip to Devon for a week. I didn't remember (or know at the time) that this was the area where my grandfather had had his great adventure. But I was tootling around in these little shops and found a handcrafted pottery mug that I absolutely fell in love with and had to get. Years later, I thought to look up information about where the pottery was made. It turned out that it came from Newton Abbott--the little town my grandfather landed when he bailed out of his plane.

Today, I honor him and all the servicemen and women who have sacrificed so much for this country.

A BIG Day

2011-11-07T08:04:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a big day for our family. Actually, the entire weekend was. By the time Sunday night rolled around, I was so tired I could barely see straight, and I was amazed that we had packed so much into so little time.

Friday night after Tom got home from work, we drove to Syracuse to visit his parents for the weekend. We woke up bright and early on Saturday morning and went to the NY State Fairground to see a really large train show. The boys were enthralled by all the model trains and wanted to look at every single display. Last year, Tom and his dad took the boys and spent the whole time carrying them from one display to the next. I understand why the model train builders put them so high off the ground, but it's torturous for parents. This year I invested in a small collapsing step stool that the boys could carry and stand on whenever they couldn't see. It was a lifesaver and kept everybody happy!

After the train show, Tom and I went shopping by ourselves! That never happens and everything went so much more smoothly. First we went to Raymour and Flanigan looking for a new twin bed for John. He's outgrown his toddler bed, and was spending nights in our bed--so everybody was miserable! The one we found that we liked okay was $800, so we didn't stay there long! After that we went to the mall to look at getting some window treatments made. I was bored by the fabric choices, but since my dream fabric isn't in stock, I'm having to compromise my design asthetic. Tom and I quickly realized that we couldn't pick out window treatment fabric without some idea of how we were going to paint the house, so next it was off to Lowes... We developed a palette for the house (we're sticking with yellows and reds) and then looked at their window treatments. I think now we're leaning more toward rolling shades instead of roman shades. It was nice to be able to take our time land look at all our options.

Sunday morning we got up even brighter and earlier (damn you, daylight savings), packed and got ready to head home. I was going to drive back from Syracuse (with the dogs) and Tom and the boys were coming back on Amtrak. We'd been promising the boys an Amtrak trip for months (years?) and it seemed like every time we thought we might get tickets, the fates conspired against us. But last weekend, prices were reasonable, the weather was pleasant, and the times worked out perfectly, so we went ahead and bought tickets. The boys had a great time and were really excited when they got off at the train station in Schenectady.

And as if everybody wasn't tired enough, from there, like the masochists we are, we headed straight to Albany to look at furniture.

The first place we went was having a sale, but didn't have the kind of bed we were looking for. We wanted a solid wooden bed with a dark espresso finish that would match the chest of drawers John already had. So Tom and I decided to try Huck Finn's Warehouse. I'd been there before, right after we moved to the area, and I knew it was visible from one of the interstates, was on the outskirts of town, and in a big warehouse near other big warehouses... Note to self: these are not particularly helpful details when you are driving in circles all over downtown Albany. After Tom and I toured parts of I-90, I-87, and I-787 with no luck, out of desperation I started calling friends with internet access. Thanks to our friend Jason and his smart phone, Tom and I managed not to kill each other. Another note to self: Engineers do not appreciate directions by gut feeling.

Huck Finn's DID have the perfect bed, and we were able to get it and a mattress right away AND bring it home in the mini-van. I love when I don't have to wait for furniture! On the way home we stopped at Target for some twin flannel sheets (Snowmen! Yeah!) and a mattress protector (leaky Pull-ups...boo...).

Once we finally got home, Tom whipped it together in no time at all, which was awesome because John hadn't had a nap and was ready for bed.

He was very excited to try the new bed out (and looked so little in it):

It makes me a little sad to think that after 5 continuous years with the same crib sheets, it's time to retire the little frogs and safari animals. It's the end of another era. No more babies. No more toddlers. Just potty-trained-going-to-school-sleeping-in-adult-bed big boys here. But it wasn't completely sad, because John's pull-up promptly leaked and I got to experience a middle-of-the-night bed-stripping and sheet change--just so I wouldn't get soft and think I was going to get to sleep through the night again or anything. :-)

As If I Didn't Have Enough To Do...

2011-11-03T05:18:00.000-07:00

I hate mornings like this. Instead of eating breakfast and getting dressed like sane, rational children, my boys are playing some kind of crazy emergency-room-imminent game called Let's Slide-In-Our-Socks-While-Running-Into-Each-Other-And-Sustain-A-Concussion-Before-Breakfast. All I wanted to do was escape the noise for a minute and check my online bank statement...

For the record, yes, I *do* know the name of my high school, my high school mascot, and the street I grew up on. However, I *do not* know whether or not I used punctuation when originally typing in said information, and now I have been locked out of my account, and in addition to organizing my coupons, writing a grocery list, doing three loads of laundry, getting Sam on the bus, John off to preschool, and cleaning up the basement for the Chimney Sweep coming at noon, now I have to call the bank's call center and get my password issue sorted out.

I like to be busy, but this is ridiculous.

Plus, I'd like to be busy doing the things I want to be doing... writing my novel, going to have coffee with friends, volunteering at Sam's school, planning for the next Odyssey of the Mind meeting, writing a blog.

But it seems like no matter how much free time I get, it fills itself up with tedium.

I had a great idea for a scene in my book, but have had no time to write it yet. I've been trying to shuffle my time around lately, but the planets haven't aligned and everything else has taken priority. I feel like I need an entire weekend to get myself back on track, catch up, get myself re-organized and on something resembling a schedule, but we're going to be out of town for the next two weekends, so I'll most likely fall even further behind. And then the holidays will be upon us...

I have a feeling things won't be sane again until January. If they'll ever be sane again, period.

I understand why people with school-aged children get caught in the vortex of flying time. There is something going on all.the.time. I don't have time to breathe. I don't think anyone else I know has time to breathe either. I don't like life to be like this. I'm not a run-out-the-door-with-my-hair-on-fire-ready-to-take-on-the-world kind of person. I'd like my entire life to be a stretch of lazy days, lounging around the house in my pajamas, with nothing to do but read a good book. But that day isn't going to be today.

First, get the boys off to school. Then I have a phone call to make.

Pictures Of Me

2011-10-25T12:30:00.000-07:00

My friend Kira has been talking about starting her own photography studio for almost as long as I've known her. She always has a camera in her hands, just like I'm most likely found hunched over my laptop squinting (and cursing) at my novel. But the other day she asked me to play guinea pig and let her practice talking portraits on me, and I very grudgingly agreed. I feel like an idiot in front of a camera--never know what to do with my arms and legs, and usually end up stuffing myself into a ball and looking at the camera as if to say "I am soooo not amused." Because usually I'm not. And more to the point, no one needs to see the kind of state I'm usually in--all no-makeup-ed-ponytailed-and-sweatpant-ed-out.

Yes, I could go to the trouble of doing my hair, and wearing makeup, and putting something on besides sweatpants and crocs--but really, what's the point? I'm either at the gym, or in my house, and I don't think John's preschool teachers or Sam's bus driver care whether I'm wearing lipstick or not.

But then sometimes you see a picture of yourself and have a moment where you think, "That's me? No way!"

I had a reaction like that when I saw this picture:

Sometimes I feel like motherhood has ruined whatever looks I might've once had. My face is fuller, my body is wider, and saggier, my hair keeps changing colors and textures, I haven't gotten a truly restful night's sleep in over 6 years, I have frown lines, scream lines, and wrinkles--and I'm getting new ones all the time. Most days I look in the mirror and am just glad I still recognize myself.

But then I see a picture like this, and suddenly everything makes sense. I look like the older, wiser, more maternal version of my merely pretty (but completely inexperienced) younger self. Ten years ago I didn't have the first clue how to be a mother or what to do with children. But the expression on John's face--all that love for his Mommy--shows me that somehow, I've figured it out. And it makes all the things I've lost in the looks department pale in comparison to all that I've gained. :-)

Best In Show

2011-10-21T07:53:00.000-07:00

This has been quite a nerve wracking week.
First, Ruby had her third obedience class on Tuesday. The first two were not especially successful. Tom took her to the first class and it was an unmitigated disaster. Ruby needed an obedience class desperately--and it showed. She refused to walk on a leash and instead hopped on her hind legs like a kangaroo, she growled aggressively at the other dogs, she was stubborn, and rebellious, and basically every bad terrier stereotype you can think of. I took Ruby to class number 2, and it only went slightly better. She sort of paid attention to me, but she was no honor roll student.

And I left the second class in quite a snit because the trainer suggested I spray Bitter Apple into Ruby's mouth every time she barked at another dog-as if she was Cujo or something. She's lectured me too about how Ruby wasn't paying any attention to me, and was unruly, and out of control--which was not true. At home, Ruby had learned lots of tricks really quickly, did listen to me, and was as sweet a dog as you could ask for. I was seriously grumpy that my dog could be so misunderstood. My feelings were hurt on Ruby's behalf, and so the morning after class number 2, I went to the pet store and bought a training collar, a squeaky toy, better treats, and a squirt bottle. Then I went to Lowes for an apron, which I came home and modified. I made the front pocket bigger, and then sewed sections into the two lower pockets, turning them into four. Into its own pocket I put the squirt bottle, the squeaky toy, and the treats. The other pockets were for my car keys and storing the training collar when Ruby wasn't in class. Then all week, we practiced. I took her out to Petsmart, to meet other neighborhood dogs, to work on her heeling. Every time she tried to hop down the street, she got a firm tug on her collar. Every time she barked at another dog, I sprayed her in the face with water. I also got online and asked for help from other terrier owners. They suggested I teach her the "watch" command, so I spent the week sticking treats on my nose until Ruby stare into my eyes, hanging on my every word. In typical Brittany fashion, I decided there was no leaving things to chance...no loosy goosy waiting to see how things would go... no status quo for me. We were going to go back to class and show those people the True Ruby who could kick all their obedient doggie butts.

So class number 3 rolled around, and Ruby was a new dog. Definitely honor roll behavior. Yes, I had to spray her in the face a few times for getting barky at the other dogs, but she heeled, she sat, she would (occasionally) lie down (I know I said honor roll...Let me clarify--that would be the B Honor Roll LOL), she did a beautiful wait, a beautiful leave it, did a not-so-beautiful, but respectable stay... and then the ginormous Tibetan Mastiff got her attention....

Seriously, this dog is the size of a Yak, and he's not full grown yet. He's still growing. Like 90 more pounds growing. Ruby, at max, is going to weigh about 15 lbs. She is a walking, barking, tiny, crunchy Tibetan Mastiff appetizer.

So it was probably not her best idea to start her mouthy barking nonsense at him. I gave her a nice quick jerk on her training collar, and then watched it come sailing off her neck and fly through the air. Ruby charged. Thankfully 1) Tibetan Mastiff was also in a training collar and 2) he was pretty sure he could take Ruby, so he didn't even blink. All I knew was I needed to get Ruby under control before she did something suicidal, so I grabbed her little carroty tail and hauled her backward to our section of the training space. She quit barking and sat there calmly while me, and Hunter (the chocolate lab puppy)'s owner re-threaded her collar and got it back on her neck. After that, class went without a hitch.

It wasn't quite the flawless performance I was hoping for, but since it was a dramatic improvement over the last two classes, I don't feel like I have a lot to complain about. I try to control what I can, and have a sense of humor about the things that I can't, but sometimes I feel like I'm the one who's being critiqued.

...Which leads me to parent teaching conferences. Or more to the point, my first parent teacher conference about Sam.

When I was a teacher, I didn't understand how scary it was for parents to hear the latest progress report about their child. As a teacher, I was much more concerned about saying something that would upset the parents--but now that the roles are reversed, I totally get that the parents were anxious too.

I know Sam. I've lived with him for five years-longer if you count the time I spent getting to know him in utero. And since he is just like my grandfather temperament-wise, I dreaded hearing about all of mischievous, disruptive, crazy boy behavior, and just knew that he had to be driving his poor sainted teacher crazy.

It was quite the relief to hear that for the most part he is being good in class. He doesn't listen well (to the point that his teacher suggested a hearing test), but he's where he should be academically and socially, and is adjusting to school really well.

But you could've knocked me and Tom over with a feather when we learned that "Sam is a fun kid. He really likes to have his fun." His teacher went on to say how much he enjoyed playing in the classroom and cutting up with his classmates. Somehow, I didn't expect that. I mean, it just isn't in his genes. Tom and I have many fine qualities between us, but fun-loving is not how people would typically describe either one of us. We were the kids in school who took things very, very seriously. Tom even came out of the parent teacher conference grumbling, "I'm not sure if I want to be the parent of a fun-loving kid. Sounds like he's going to get himself into lots of trouble with his "fun"."

As parents, we've spent a lot of time trying to instill a sense of responsibility and seriousness in our children. It's our default personality, and the personality we expected our children to inherit from us. Always the pleaser, John came into the world a serious boy. Sam, not so much. It drives us bonkers, because he is so different from the rest of us. But without Sam around, the sun wouldn't shine in this house. He's been a lesson in how to let down our hair and live joyfully (and passionately) in the moment.

I knew this about him, and yet I was surprised that it was the prevailing impression of him that his teacher took away--that he was a fun, fun-loving kid. It is not my prevailing impression of Sam, so I'm still trying to wrap my head around the reality of Sam as other people see him. Unlike the situation where Ruby's first impression wasn't a good one, now Sam was being seen in a more positive light than I see him. I don't interpret his behavior as "fun-loving" very often. To me, it's more "loud," "unruly," and "risky." But then I think of my grandfather and he was definitely a fun-loving guy. He got into his fair share of trouble, but you couldn't help but love him and want to be around him. And the same is true of Sam. I need to remember that.

Ruby, Sam, and I all have to learn to listen better. Sometimes the things you hear will change the way you see.

A Love Story--10 Years And Counting

2011-10-12T19:31:00.000-07:00

October 13th is mine and Tom's 10th anniversary. The years have flown by, so it's weird to think that we're celebrating a milestone anniversary this year. Especially in light of the fact that I never thought I'd get married in the first place.

My parents separated (and subsequently got divorced) right after I turned 2. My mother didn't remarry until I was 30. In that time, my mom dated a lot. And as a result, I learned really quickly that not all relationships are good ones, and a lot of men are scumbuckets (to put it mildly). Granted, there are plenty of men out there who are not scumbuckets, too, but even nice guys don't always make good boyfriends. You can love someone with every fiber of your being and still have absolutely no business being in a relationship together.

I was always a little ambivalent about the whole dating/marriage thing. Big romantic gestures turned me off. Passionate anything sent me screaming for the hills. Guys with lots of buddies and really active social lives made me anxious and uncomfortable. And guys who were happy-go-lucky and mellow made me feel claustrophobic and hemmed in.

I'll admit it. I was a tough nut to crack. And I always assumed that I'd be single my whole life--because I was kind enough as a human being not to subject that kind of insanity on another living person. I mean really, even admitting it here on my blog, I sound slightly insane. What I was asking for made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

So I ended up dating some strange characters, because I deemed them weird enough not to notice that I had completely lost my mind. But the entire time, I longed to be with him--the male equivalent of me. The guy who was stoic, and aloof. Who professed his love in the arch of an eyebrow, or a quick smirk at a shared joke. He was a loner with a rich inner life, a wicked sense of humor. Someone who had his shit together, who was responsible, who was committed. He would love me absolutely to the core of his being, but would do it quietly, like he did everything else in his life.

And then one day, as I was poking around Yahoo Personals, I came across an ad that made me laugh out loud. The guy said he was a disgruntled Yankee, forced to relocate to the South, and he was looking for a girl who didn't think tobacco was a vegetable or that Nascar was a sport.

I did not write him back. I knew the minute I said I was from Western North Carolina, he'd hear the banjo theme from Deliverance and head back to New Jersey screaming.

But one day, while I was minding my business online, I got an instant message, and it was from him. He had read my personal ad--the one where I said that I was starting grad school in the summer, had a new puppy, and liked to take her for walks at the Biltmore Estate--and he had determined that my use of complete sentences, proper punctuation, and lack of reference to any form of partying/dancing/clubbing made me high brow enough for his taste.

We chatted the entire day online. And then every day after that for months.

My mom always knew when I was talking to this guy because she'd hear "click click clickety click click.... HahahahahahHAHAHAhahahahaha..... clickety clickety clickety... HahahahHAHAHAHAhahahaha" He absolutely kept me in stitches. I lived for our daily chats. And so did he. He was Old Reliable. Every day, like clockwork, there he was.

Did he ever ask for my phone number? Ask to meet me? To go out on a date?

Not once in over two months.

In my head, we were just good buddies.

So when his birthday came around, and he gave me this sad song and dance about woe is him, he's all alone for his birthday, *I* invited *him* to come over for dinner.

What did he like to eat? I asked him. Oh, anything, was his reply.

Any food allergies? Nope.

Anything he wouldn't eat? No, he was easy, he said.

So I made him a beautiful dinner. A nice tossed salad full of fresh, crunchy vegetables. Spaghetti with meatballs--the rustic kind, with big chunks of tomatoes and onions. A lovely fruit salad, heavy on the strawberries. And for dessert, I asked my aunt, who owned a bakery at the time, to make him a birthday cake. This guy, he'd been a gymnast at Virginia Tech, so we looked up his old gymnastic picture online, and copied his uniform to a T. He'd competed in rings, so we created a little icing man with little rings doing his specialty, the Iron Cross.

He came. He ate. We watched my favorite movie, The Fisher King, together. We talked. He left.

We went right back to being online buddies.

At the time, we were going on lots of first dates with other people-- dates that were so comically bad that it became a date-night tradition to come home, log in to Yahoo, and let the other one hear about our latest misadventure. It got to the point, after months and months of this, that I looked more forward to the post-date debrief than I did the dates themselves.

And that was right around the time we both came to the mutual (and entirely practical) decision that since our love lives were atrocious, it couldn't hurt to date each other.Things certainly couldn't get any worse, and maybe it would be an improvement over an otherwise very sad state of affairs.

Our "dating experiment" lasted exactly 48 hours. After that, we decided to dispense with the dancing around and just be in a relationship--because we were done. That's all it took. The two relationship misfits realized we had found that one person we'd been looking for our whole lives. By the time 49 hours rolled around, we were already talking about getting married. 5 months later I was sporting a diamond. And then on October 13th, 2001 we got married.

That was right around the time I learned that my new husband 1) hated salad, 2) hated crunchy vegetables, 3) is horrifiyingly allergic to both tomatoes and onions, and 4) would not eat a strawberry even if he was starving to death.

Remember that birthday dinner he stoically gagged down? Yeah... I nearly put him in the hospital. But he risked it, because even then, he loved me.

The last ten years have not always been sunshine and roses: four houses, three cross-country moves, three cities, five pets, a miscarriage, the birth of two children, deaths in the family, the death of a pet, 70 hour work days, fights, applying for new jobs, getting new jobs, job anxiety, family drama, friend drama, pet drama (just today, Ruby chewed a hole right in the middle of our bedroom carpet), illnesses, hospital stays, emergency room visits, stitches, x-rays, ct scans, tantrums, arguments, road trips, potty training, first days of school, lots of tears, lots of threatening to turn this car right around, mister.

But it has all been so much better because of him. Sometimes, I take him for granted. He drives me bonkers with his incessant, compulsive need to clean everything. With his stupid day-of-the-week shirts. The way he absolutely, categorically will not sing (even when no one is around except his family, who are all singing loudly and will probably drown him out anyway). He's fretful and bossy and anxiety prone--so imaginative with his apocalyptic scenarios, that I frequently have to squelch the urge to strangle him. But then I have to think back, and remember what life was like before...

Before Tom, I did not know what it meant to be deeply invested in anything. To want to bind myself to someone else, and share whatever fate would be ours together. I did not understand that love makes anything possible-from eating lettuce, to surviving the blackest depths of grief. I didn't have any idea what a best friend was. All my life I'd wanted one, but I mistakenly thought that a best friend was someone who wanted to be with you all the time, who shared everything and every moment with you, who always agreed with you, and always supported you.

I was wrong.

A best friend gives you space, and a life of your own. When you are together, you share. Every encounter is a dispatch from a strange new place, someplace you've never been before. They challenge you, force you to confront truths about yourself, argue with you, teach you, lecture you, roll their eyes at you. They make sure you stay true and honest to yourself. And when you get off track, they remind you who you are, at your deepest core, because they never, ever forget. They love your whole heart with their whole heart.

I wish I had some wise, pithy ending to sum up this love story, but it's still ongoing. Marriage is a long journey, and this is just the first leg, but what a ride it's been.

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond

any experience,your eyes have their silence:
  in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

  or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,

  you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

  (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
  my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,

  as when the heart of this flower imagines

  the snow carefully everywhere descending;



nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
  the power of your intense fragility:whose texture

  compels me with the color of its countries,

  rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands

  the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

  nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

- e.e. cummings

Love At First Sight

2011-10-10T06:24:00.000-07:00

I love my house. Still. Last year I spent a lot of blogging time waxing poetic about its 1930s-Bungalow loveliness, and nothing much has changed. In fact, a year into living here, I've become even more stubborn about preserving its 1930s-ness.

One of the things I do not like about this house is the curtains I bought when we moved in. At the time, I desperately needed something on the windows, and I didn't have the time (or the sewing skills) to be picky. The curtains I bought were the right color, and worked with the curtain rods already in place, but I have grown to hate them. I feel like I live in a hunting lodge with all that plaid.

Window treatments have proven a bit of a challenge in this house --mostly because I'm very picky. I refuse to put up mini blinds (too modern), sheers (pointless--in this climate, window treatments have to have some thermal abilities), have grown to really dislike having long curtains, and have decided cafe curtains and shutters are just too country for my taste. The one type of window treatment I love is a roman shade. Simple, modern--but not too modern, and versitile.

From the moment we moved in I wanted roman shades on the windows. At first I wanted to make them myself. Unfortunately, last year I couldn't even thread my sewing machine. And I never found any fabric I liked. Nothing felt "right". For about five minutes I contemplated having some made to order, but then I saw how much they would cost, and again, I hated the fabric choices. I do not like solids, and was on the hunt for a mysterious bolt of red and yellow material somewhere that would be the fabric equivalent of my one true soul mate.

Yeah...tough order... I learned to co-exist with the plaid.

But I'm an incurable optimist, who likes to poke around when I go shopping--just to see what I can find. And while I was perusing Joann's for supplies for this year's Top Secret Christmas Craft, I saw it.

It stopped me dead in my tracks. I stopped and I looked at it and I said, "That is the PERFECT fabric... for KIRA'S house!" At first it didn't occur to me that it might be perfect for *my* house because it was neither red nor yellow, and I certainly wasn't planning on changing the house's color scheme (which I love) to greens and beiges.

But it was one of those things I just couldn't get out of my head. I loved the pattern. Loved the art nouveau-y, art deco-y, geometric-florally-ness of the pattern. It was just right. So I scoured the store, scoured the internet, scoured every other place I could think of to find this fabric in red and yellow. It did not exist. It existed in browns and caramels (too drab), and in bright blues and greens (too bright). Every time, I came back to the green. Tom liked the green. The boys liked the green. The green, it soon became clear, was IT.

And why shouldn't it be it? My favorite color is that lovely greenish blue (or peacock turquoise, depending on my mood). When Tom and I were first married, I had every intention of decorating in greens (that lasted about as long as it took to sell our newly-built Greenville house and moved into Sponge-Painted Acres in Cincinnati). And speaking of Cincinnati, this fabric reminds me of one of my most favorite places in all the world. The old Union Station Tea Room (that has more recently been converted into an ice cream parlor).

No, it's not exactly the same, but for me it evokes the same feeling I felt the first time I ever walked into that space, shrieked with glee at all the original Rookwood Pottery, and promptly died of joy in the midst of so much Art Deco loveliness. (Incidentally, my house was built in 1930, Union Station in 1933.) So when I say that I want to restore my house to the period in which it was built, this is what I am thinking of.

It's funny how one thing (like a fabric) can turn your entire world on its head. You're going along loving your reds and yellows and all of a sudden, your world becomes green and beige.

It's already pretty obvious, but this winter, Tom and I are going to be doing a bit of redecorating.

An Odyssey

2011-10-06T08:20:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to the district's informational meeting for Odyssey of the Mind. I didn't really need any information--I ate, slept, and breathed OM for the better part of my public school education and I loved (almost) every minute of it. I signed Sam up for a team, and a volunteered to be the team's coach. Which is great and exciting and all that. But the bitter truth is, OM just isn't the huge deal around here that it was back home. No one else is signed up to do the primary problem at his elementary school. And that's not at all the experience I want for him. I want it to be a big deal here, too, but I feel a bit out of my element recruitment-wise, because I don't know hardly anyone at the school yet. I'm hoping that I can talk the few people I do know into participating, but that remains to be seen.

Two steps forward, one step back...

That's the theme of the day around here, folks.

Lately, I've been going gangbusters on my novel. Finally, the juices are flowing again. I'm seeing scenes again in my head, and the words are in my fingers, and I feel like it's all coming together. Over the last couple of days I've managed to write 2000 words. And I was stoked! That's the kind of progress I needed to be making. But as I wrote my chapter outlines (months ago), I embedded notes to myself in the text, and as I've been writing and taking those notes out, my word count has started slipping again. It's so frustrating. I'm right back to where I started now. I've made progress, but no forward momentum.

And in a more literal sense, Ruby started Basic Obedience classes this week. I was taking a course that night through the district's adult education classes, so Tom had to take her instead of me (and Tom has never trained a dog to do anything). To hear him tell it, it was a complete and utter fiasco. She barked her head off the entire hour, and when she wasn't barking, she was lunging, growling, and snarling at the other dogs like a crazy animal, and instead of heeling like every other dog in the class, she was so out of control that she stood on her hind legs and hopped around the circle. I'm pretty confident that either 1) she is not going to pull that crap when I'm the one holding the leash, or 2) she will, and I'll find it hilarious, and she and I will be know throughout Glenville as Crazy Woman and Psycho Dog (do they make costumes for that? LOL). Anyway, I know from experience that she will figure it out eventually. Tuendi was definitely the juvenile delinquent of Puppy Kindergarten, and yes, she was pretty atrocious during class, but she and I worked it out on our own time, and she's the picture of obedience now. Today I took Ruby and Tuendi out on the tandem leash again and I couldn't get Ruby to knock off the kangaroo-hopping for anything, so after a quick walk around the block, I dropped Tuendi off in the house, and brought Ruby back outside by herself. And guess who can heel like a champ? Yeah... she was holding out on me.

We're making progress, but the going is slow. More updates as they come.

John's First Field Trip

2011-09-30T13:42:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, John and his preschool class took a field trip to the apple orchard. John tagged along last year when Sam's class went to the orchard, but this time John was supposed to be there. Over the past few years, I've gotten into the habit of John always tagging along whenever Sam went somewhere. In my mind, he's always been the baby equivalent of a groupie, so it's a bit of a shock to my system to realize he's no longer a hanger-on. He's a big boy now, with his own school, and his own field trips.

The weather on Wednesday was complete and total crap. Apparently, Mother Nature hasn't yet received the memo that Upstate New York has had quite enough rain for the time being, thank you very much. Luckily, John didn't seem to mind the rain and mud. He got to wear his beloved raincoat (whose reflective strips glow in photographs) and his new whale rain boots. Even though it poured on us, he really enjoyed tromping around the orchard picking apples.

We also got to see honey bees making honey, play with farm animals, eat apple cider and apple cider doughnuts, go on a hay ride, and pick out a pumpkin. While I was in the farm store, I picked up even more doughnuts, and a big jug of NY Maple syrup. We've converted to the real stuff and will never go back to store bought syrup ever again. I love living close enough to the land that I can buy things like this most anywhere I go.

Here's John and his good buddy, Zachary. They both had a great first field trip!

A New Kind Of Normal

2011-09-27T23:46:00.000-07:00

I'm up at 1:40am. I had a hard enough time getting settled and falling asleep when I finally went to bed at 11pm. (I was reading a book that had just started getting good.) When the dogs woke me up so soon afterwards, (Ruby, with her noisy middle-of-the-night bone chewing, and Tuendi, with her noisy elderly pacing) I knew sleeping was hopeless.

Tuendi has become an old dog almost before my eyes. She'll be 12 this coming January, and her vision is definitely different now. I struggle with calling it diminished, because saying the words, admitting that it isn't sharp anymore, is effectively admitting that Tuendi is not the tiny puppy, or the young scrapper, or even the dignified grand dame she once was. The simple truth is, she can no longer see in the dark.Even though I knew she wanted to go out, she balked at the top of the stairs and refused to move until I turned on the lights for her. Yesterday, she slept through my arrival home. I watched her sleeping, waiting for me at the top of the stairs, through the glass window in the door. Her ears never flickered until she heard my key turning noisily in the lock. It caught me a little off guard, realizing how much older she suddenly seemed.

Ruby, too, is suddenly not so very puppy. She's more of a juvenile delinquent teenager, trying to sneak out of the house, breaking curfew with her noisy (bone chewing) parties, stealing shoes and underwear, chewing chair legs, and forgetting the manners she only recently learned. She's physically bigger now, too, and fast, and strong. I can see puppy melting away on her as she slowly becomes her genetic destiny--a fearsome, barking, defense missile of fur.

I already had to come to terms recently with the fact that neither of my babies are babies anymore. Sam is thriving in Kindergarten. John is thriving in preschool. They have started school and entered into the wide, wonderful, no-mommy's land called Real Life. And I, too, with their crossing, have crossed from the realm of Young Mother to that of the Old Hat.

Suddenly I am left at home with a slowing-down senior Westie, and a full-of-spitfire teen aged Cairn, watching the two poles of a life coming together, and feeling very much like I am right smack in the middle of all that--neither old and tired, nor young and frisky. My youth is behind me. Old age is in front of me. It's time to get the things I'm going to accomplish finished NOW.

And I have a lot to do.

I feel like the Grand Marshall of a huge parade. I'm not actually in the parade, but it's my job to make sure that everybody follows the parade route, sticks together, and marches along in time to the music. I'm already getting caught in the extracurricular activity maelstrom. The boys have swimming, and Sam has soccer, and soon he'll have OM. There's always a school function or two on the calendar, and so far, a never ending stream of requests from the school for brownies here or time there. And that's in addition to all the household errands and chores that have to be done--the grocery shopping, the post office runs, trips to the library, clipping coupons, cleaning, keeping the paperwork moving, keeping in touch, and keeping our calendar and social life organized. I don't mind. Of course I don't mind. But all of my time is spent keeping others marching when I want to join the parade too.

I do not have enough time to do it all. Every day I wake up and have to decide, Are you going to write or are you going to clean or are you going to make crafts or are you going to go to the gym? I have a novel I need to work on, a stack of fleece that will someday, hopefully, turn into a stack of scarves, and mittens, and hats, and pajamas, a body that is following its genetic destiny by getting larger and softer, and a house that is always, constantly, in need of a good scrub. Even if I devoted my every waking hour to writing/sewing/working out/cleaning, I could never get half of what I'd like to accomplish accomplished, plus I'd never see daylight or have any kind of a social life to speak of.

All I can do is attack everything a little at a time and be happy with progress of any kind.

My weekly schedule is starting to solidify now--with Tuesday and Wednesday mornings my only opportunities to write or sew. On those days I work feverishly, trying to accomplish enough to keep my spirits buoyed until my next creative marathon.

It's hard to be satisfied with very low personal output, but I remind myself that it's better than no output at all. The boys will need me less and less with every passing year. Sooner than I'd like, the day will come when I'll have more free time than I'll know what to do with.

Even though I'm prevented from doing some of the things I love most of the time, even on my worst days, this is exactly how I pictured motherhood and this life--full and rich and busy--is exactly what I've always wanted it to be.
I'm sure this is the time I will look back on most fondly. A time when old and young, past and future, pre-kid Brittany and post-kid Brittany, pre-kid dog and post-kid dog, pre-kid dreams and post-kid dreams, all happily and chaotically collide.

I Know It's Fall

2011-09-17T14:43:00.000-07:00

...when I suddenly become VERY productive.

This morning I got up early and decided to use up the rest of the apples we picked at the orchard a couple of weeks ago. I canned 6 quarts of apple wedges in cinnamon red hot syrup. It went pretty well, except the next time I make them I'll leave out the vinegar--it gave the apples a slight pickled taste that I didn't love. Also, one of my mason jars cracked around the bottom and leaked bright red syrup all over the place. That was fun.... But after the apples were finished, I figured I might as well can some split pea soup while I was at it. That was a most-of-the-day-affair because the dried peas refused to soften for hours. While they were simmering on the stove, Tom and I and the boys walked a few blocks up to a local church that was having a little fair. Jumpin' Jacks was there in their trailer serving lunch, and we couldn't resist the opportunity to have a last cheeseburger of the season. We walked back home, and my peas *still* hadn't softened, so I went upstairs and made Sam a pair of mittens.

I had the furry fleece and the felt, but needed to run to Walmart for buttons, and while I was there, I had some inspiration for Sam and my Top Secret Christmas Craft for 2011. I bought supplies for that, too, came home, the peas *still* weren't soft, so I worked with Sam on a prototype Christmas present, and when that was finished, went back upstairs to my sewing room and finished the mittens.

I know they look very homemade, but I was proud of myself, nonetheless. They don't show up really well in the picture, but the cat has two little ears that stick up and there's a tail that wraps around the wrist that buttons closed. They're supposed to look like our cat, Harley.

Once the mittens were finished, my peas had turned into mush, so I finished making the split pea soup. Now seven quarts of soup are in the pressure canner.

I love days when I get so much accomplished.

Slow On The Uptake

2011-09-15T11:43:00.000-07:00

So... I had really high hopes for this week. The boys were going to go to school, and I was going to hit the gym every day, and go back on my diet, and write my book, and get organized, and get going on all those projects I needed to finish, and my life was going to suddenly fall right back into place.

But that's not quite how things worked out.

I've been to the gym once this week--and it was an amazing workout--a mix of plyometric exercises and pilates. Which I needed desperately, since I've been an ice-cream-cone-and-burger-inhaling machine all summer. But I'm still hobbling around, in serious pain. It doesn't help that I pulled a muscle in my back, and the barometric pressure changes are giving me headaches. So maybe I should work into this whole work-out-every-day thing more gradually...

The diet hasn't exactly been a roaring success either. I am eating better than I was, but the honest truth of the matter is that I don't want to drink green tea all the time. I don't want to limit myself to poultry and fish for the next few months. And I'm just bored with the whole thing. I haven't yet reached the level of desperation neccessary to force myself to eat foods I don't like. I wonder if I just step up my exercise to an hour a day if the weight won't start to come off if I continue to eat sensibly and watch my portions.

I have done some writing... like a paragraph... this week. I'm totally underwhelmed by my productivity. And I'm disgusted with myself. And frustrated. I know what I want to write, but similar to the pulled muscle in my back, my words feel taunt and are a little twisted up (not to mention painful) and I'm really aggravated by my lack of flow. I went to the library and checked out three books set in the Appalachians, in hopes that if I can transport myself there and dwell there passively for a while, that it'll warm up/stretch my writing muscles and get them ready to work again.

In the meantime, I finally figured out today (because I am extraordinarily unobservant) that a mom I see all the time at the preschool is also the mom of Sam's arch-nemesis in Kindergarten. Her son and Sam are both in the same class, both are train obsessed, and both wanted to play with the train set I donated to the classroom when we first met at Meet the Teacher. On the first day of school, Sam didn't get to play with the engine because another little boy was playing with it (I'm guessing it was her son), and it cast a horrible pall on the whole Kindergarten experience. I told the mom about this, and she said she felt horrible about it, but I told her not to.

(Besides being funny to me in a I-can't-believe-the-sort-of-thing-that-will-ruin-a-five-year-old's-day kind of way, it also provided a very teachable moment for Sam. When he came home upset, we talked about how he likes to play with trains when he's nervous and scared, and I explained that the other little boy might also be nervous and scared, and need to play with the train to feel better. I added that maybe he was even more nervous and more scared than Sam, and he needed the train even more than Sam did that day. We talked about how disappointed Sam was about the train, but how he'd stayed calm, and found other things to do to cope--and how the other little boy might've not been able to do that, so it was very nice of Sam to be flexible.)

Anyway, I hadn't told her about the train dispute to make her feel bad... I had wanted to add that I thought it was great Sam found someone as passionate (and willing to fight to the death over trains) as him, and that it was possibly the (very rocky) start to a beautiful friendship. But the conversation got interrupted, as these conversations in the middle of preschool pick up tend to, and now she probably thinks I'm more upset about the situation than bemused. Ironically enough, this woman's other son is in John's preschool class and the only child John has mentioned all week. John says her younger son is his "favorite boy in the class". They only live a couple streets over from us, so it would be easy to get the boys together. Obviously, we need to plan a play date.

So even though my life is a little chaotic at the moment, things are falling into place for the boys. They're coping with school and seem to enjoy it, too.

I guess Mom just needs a little more time to get it together.

So Much Depends On (A First Day Of School)

2011-09-13T03:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Sam's revised first day of elementary school. Ever. It was supposed to be on Friday, but due to the calamitous events of the last few weeks, the first day of school was cancelled. First, Tropical Storm Irene dumped epic amounts of water on an already rain-saturated Upstate New York, causing 500 year floods and damage of extraordinary proportions. Then, just as we were starting to breathe again and began cleaning up the damage, Tropical Storm Lee came and dumped even more water into still-flooded waterways and overly-taxed locks. The locks held up, thankfully, because had they not, I shudder to think of what might have happened, but many are seriously damaged and in need of repair, in addition to all the needed repairs to bridges and roads in the area. But winter is fast approaching and making those repairs in feet of snow is going to be challenging, if not impossible.

This is a picture of a sink hole right down the street from our house. Our neighborhood was fortunately spared from the horrible local flooding, but only by a matter of streets. We were lucky, but not unaffected. The huge village park by our house (and one of Scotia's crown jewels) is closed indefinitely. Sam was supposed to start soccer this fall, but that park and all its fields have been deemed too damaged and dangerous to play in yet. Plus Jumpin' Jacks (another crown jewel and Scotia landmark) was forced to close down early for the season.

This was a lot to digest for an adult, but Sam was really effected by it. He's suddenly afraid of storms, heavy rain, wind, trees, flooding... He still asks incessantly why everything flooded, why all the trees fell, why everything is closed.

About the same time that he became obsessed with storms, Sam also became obsessed with knowing whether there would be a train to play with in his new classroom. Some children suck their thumb, or need a security blanket, but since Sam was little, he has used playing with trains as a means to calm himself. I could tell he was very stressed out and needed some reassurance, so I emailed his new teacher and asked her if there would be a train set in the classroom. I explained that Sam really needed the security of playing with the trains for the first couple of days, and offered to donate a train set to the classroom. Once she agreed to this, Sam was relieved, and began to relax about school starting. (I was less pleased when I learned that his teacher planned to rotate the toys in the classroom and wouldn't always be giving Sam the option of playing with the train set.)

Yesterday morning, he and John excitedly waited for the school bus to arrive.

He looked so mature, so happy, so ready...

I excitedly waited for the school bus to drop him off in the afternoon. I couldn't wait to hear about all the fun he'd had, the friends he'd made, how great and wonderful Kindergarten was.

He fairly well burst from the bus, but not in the happy exuberant way I was expecting. He looked like a man just returned from a war zone, with the view of unspeakable horrors still in his eyes. I tried to greet him happily, but the first thing out of his mouth was,

"Some other boys played with the train and they wouldn't share with me."

The event had colored his entire day.

No. He hadn't made any friends. The boys were mean. No. He hadn't had fun. No. He hadn't played with anything else. He just walked around. By himself. And that was okay, he said. He didn't mind. And he didn't cry. But later, after his bravado wore off, he had a tantrum of epic proportions, screaming, crying, ranting--all about the mean boys who wouldn't share the train. It was obvious that he'd held himself together as long as he could, but the day had not been a good one.

My heart breaks for him. It broke for him for yesterday, and it breaks for all the other days that I won't be able to soothe his private pains. It breaks for him because, although he and I know what that train represents to him, to others, to his teacher, to the other kids in his classroom, it is just an abstract thing--him wanting the train. I wish I could make things better, but it's his time, not mine. After so many years of being so intimately familiar with every single, solitary moment of his life (beyond the few short hours he was away from me at preschool), I am no longer in a position to be able to observe the whole days of his life. From now on, it will be little snapshots, taken here and there in the brief moments we are together. For the first time, most of his life will be lived away from me. I didn't see the rest of his day. I only know what he told me. I know about the train.

I woke up this morning, a William Carlos Williams poem in my head:

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens.

Today I worry about my boy. He has entered the wide world without me.

And so much depends on a train set, a big classroom, and one scared little boy.

Back In The Groove

2011-09-09T05:10:00.000-07:00

I am not exaggerating when I say the last few weeks around here have been crazy. Between the earthquake, the tornados, the tropical storms, and the two floods, we've been in a constant state of waterlogged, slightly-freaked-out disbelief. And that's not taking into account my general end-of-summer state of mind either. Sam is starting Kindergarten. That's a whole new level of stress right there.

Yesterday was supposed to be the first day of school in Scotia, with the Kindergartners having a chance to meet their teacher (their first official day was to be today). But just as we were staring to dry out from Irene, Lee decided to rear his ugly head, and the rivers, which had only just started to return to normal, quickly flooded again. The first day of school was cancelled, and everything was moved back a day.

I hope this is not a metaphor for anything, because after a summer of a lot of backwards progression, I'd like to start moving forward again.

This spring/summer was not a good time to be on a diet, and I've gained back about 10 of the 25 lbs I lost earlier this year. I'm not making excuses for it. I'm not stupid enough to think that shortening my workouts/eating junk food regularly/enjoying myself and not paying attention to portions is the way to maintain my weight. It was a choice I made. I take responsibility for it, and now I'm climbing back on the wagon.

Today I'm starting back on the 17 Day Diet. I'll try to post once a week on my progress.

And with both boys starting back to school on Monday, I intend to start working on my novel in earnest. I'll keep you posted on that, too.

This Is How It's Done

2011-09-02T13:00:00.000-07:00

I have a knack for finding the most amazing things on clearance. Today, I was minding my own business at Wal-mart, and came upon this cute little Robot stuff--a recyclable lunch bag, drink bottle, and snack holder--for .10/each!

I would imagine that most people would see these and think oh, cool! Cheap ___fill in the blank___. I'll get one for my kid. But I am not most people. I see this and think "Holy crap! John can have a robot-themed birthday party and these can be his oh-so-cool and practical favors! For .30/kid, I am going to stock up!" And then I bought 15 of each.

They also had the cutest banana split and cupcake-themed bags, too, and I almost got them, my thinking being that I could do an ice cream social birthday party at some point. But while I love a great deal, I didn't think my boys were at an age where they'd be able to live down girly looking party favors (and being bright pink, they were exceeding girly), so I passed on those, came home, and called one of my friends with a daughter and told her about them.

The key to getting a great deal is to 1) be flexible--think of all possible uses for an item before you pass on it, and 2) be willing to store it for a while. John's birthday is 9 months away, so I'll be storing these for a loooong time. Which is fine, because I know I'll use them. A great deal is only a great deal if you actually use it. I wouldn't advise anyone to buy anything they might use. Many a packrat started that way...

I'm going to go celebrate my great find! Have any of you come upon a can't-live-without-it sale recently? Let's celebrate a successful shopping trip together!

More Picking And Canning

2011-08-30T15:41:00.000-07:00

The water started receding today, and after feeling helpless despair all day yesterday, I (and the boys) needed to return to some semblence of normalcy today. So we went apple picking at Bowman's Orchard because the first apples of the season are ready. I picked 16 lbs of Gingergold apples (and seriously, nothing tastes better than apples straight off the tree :-)), went by Walmart to pick up sugar and spices, came home, put John down for his nap, and started to can Apple Maple Jam.

Sam pulled himself up on the countertop and chatted with me while I peeled 12 lbs of apples. When it came time to core and slice the apples, I taught him the apple stem game from my elementary school days--twisting it until it broke to reveal the first letter of your future husband/wife's name. He had a lot of fun with that, and it gave us a chance to work on alphabet sounds. Oddly enough, we got an abundance of Fs. Then while I cooked the apples, Sam went outside to play with Ruby.

I watched them from the doorway of the kitchen and congratulated myself on my good maternal instincts. Ruby *is* exactly what Sam needed. They were laying in the grass together, and Sam was working with Ruby on her tricks. They both looked happy, calm, content--which is no small feat for boys or terriers--and the love they had for each other was palpable.

They were out there for almost two hours, and when Sam finally came back inside, I had the second batch of jam in the canner. Lately Sam hasn't been too keen on trying new foods, but he asked to try the jam, pronounced it his favorite, and the best jam ever, and ate every last spoonful in the stock pot.

I'm feeling very accomplished all of a sudden, which is new. Most of the time, I don't feel accomplished at all.
I like to have something I can hold in my hands to measure my progress, and canning gives me that. Now that I've been canning on a bi-weekly basis lately, I've got the rhythm down enough that I can get something put up in a couple of hours. It's something I didn't think I was capable of because when I first started this, it seemed so complicated. But it's not complicated at all, and my food storage pantry is looking delicious with its bounty of strawberry, raspberry, blackberry, and apple maple jams, as well as several quarts of beef stew. I've got big plans for the next few months--an apple recipe using hot cinnamon hearts and a split pea soup I'm dying to try.

I'll let you know how it goes.

A Hurricane In New York

2011-08-29T10:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, New York was hit by a (very rare) hurricane/tropical storm. Being from North Carolina, I know what happens when hurricanes come inland, and I knew it was not going to be pretty. I was in 8th grade when Hurricane Hugo came inland and caused all kinds of problems in Asheville: landslides, flooding, downing trees--and we were a good 8 hours from the coast! I was expecting the storm to be rough--especially in our neighborhood, where houses are surrounded by HUGE 80-year-old+ trees. So after running around all week like Chicken Little, making dire predictions that were ignored by Noreaster-hardened New Yorkers, I spent Friday securing everything outside, taking pictures of our house and everything inside, and making sure we were well-stocked with emergency supplies. We'd been planning to be in Syracuse all weekend, because we were going to the state fair with Tom's parents, but since the storm was due to hit early Sunday morning, we drove out Saturday and came back that night--so we'd be here if, God forbid, a tree fell on our house, and rain started pouring in.

The storm itself was a doozy, and we were lucky that we didn't have any major damage. One limb fell in the backyard and narrowly missed the swingset, and our basement flooded, but that was it. Other neighbors were not so lucky, with huge trees down on their houses and wrapped around/being held up by nothing but power lines.

We went out after the storm appeared to have passed to check on our boat (which had been pulled out of the Mohawk and was sitting on its trailer in the safety of the marina's parking lot) and there was quite a bit of flooding going on already.

Usually, our marina's docks are down a very steep hill, but last night the river level was all the way to the parking lot.

The public boat launch was flooded halfway up to the parking lot.

The water ski team docks at Jumpin Jacks were also level with the parking lot.

The Mohawk River was over its banks and into the Jumpin Jacks parking lot. There's usually quite a large bank/drop off to the river, so this was very unusual. People were amazed at the depth of the water.

Here's another view of Jumpin Jacks from the back. A very disconcerting sight.

Unfortunately, the river hadn't even begun to crest. Here are pictures of Jumpin Jacks taken today:

The trees to the left of this picture are where I stood to take the pictures above last night. The entire area is under water now. If you look in the center of this picture you will see one of Jumpin Jack's picnic tables floating down the river. The water ski docks appear to have broken apart and are floating downstream too.

The water was halfway up the side of the grill and still rising. From this view, you used to be able to see the Jumpin Jacks parking lot, Schonowee Ave, and the entrance to Collins Park, as well as a lovely walking/bike riding path up a little hill. All have disappeared. The Mohawk River and Collins Lake (which used to be invisible, waaaaay off in the distance) have merged now.

While we were standing there, one of the windows of the diary bar broke out, water began rushing in, and you could see trash cans floating on top of the water. Jumpin Jacks has been a major landmark for Scotia for over 50 years, and it's just heartbreaking to watch this happen.

Here Collins Lake is lapping at the basketball courts on the other side of the park from where the lake should be.

It's covered the playground, too.

It's a really bad sign when there's a lake with geese swimming where your sledding hill used to be.

I haven't been able to check on our boat, but I imagine the marina is under water by now. All the bridges out of Scotia were closed today (some have reopened now, but not the one that runs next to our marina), and the only reliable way in and out of Scotia is from the north. Schenectady is also flooding--especially the Stockade--a beautiful neighborhood of early colonial homes on the other side of the river from us.

Our water supply is most likely polluted, and there's talk that the water supply will be shut off indefinetely. Dams are under stress, and there's some concern they will fail. It's a real mess.

Luckily, we have power (which was restored after three hours DURING the storm) and the village was also hard at work all through the day yesterday and today cleaning up debris. The village employees who worked through the storm were amazing. The roads were cleared almost as fast as the trees fell on them.

The flooding clean up is going to take a lot longer. Honestly, I've never seen anything like this. Yesterday was bad, but today has been surreal.

I'm hoping that the worst of it is over. May tomorrow be a better day.

Picking and Canning

2011-08-24T09:51:00.000-07:00

This week John has been going to camp at his new preschool while I have stayed at home to have one-on-one time with Sam. My rationale being that John needed a chance to adjust to going to school by himself, and Sam needed a chance to spend some time by himself with me before Kindergarten started. I asked him what he wanted to do with me--and was game for absolutely anything he suggested-- but his wants were simple. He wanted to cook with me.

Yesterday we made cookies together (the chocolate, peanut butter no-bake kind--complete and utter fail. Anyone know why they ended up dry and crumbly?). After we picked John up at school, we drove over to Bowman's Orchard to see if there was something still around to pick. Last year we went raspberry picking several times, but since we have a patch of our own now, we hadn't made it out.

Happily, they had raspberries and blackberries. So spur of the moment, I decided we'd pick blackberries--Sam and I could can some jam together as our baking/cooking activity for today.

I wish I had known about the pleasures of berry picking in my childhood. Why did it take me until last year to figure this out? And for that matter, why did it take me so long to discover the joys of making jam? They're my new favorite hobbies. The boys and I had so much fun together.

Maybe you can see all the blackberry juice on their faces. One thing that I love about pick-your-own produce is how it inspires the boys to eat things they wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole outside the farm. I hate to admit it, but I think John ate as many as he picked, and no matter how many times I told him to put them in his bucket, I was fighting a gastronomic compulsion.

And really, who could blame him? They do look beautiful, don't they? And they made amazing jam.

Today was the first time I've canned anything effortlessly. It's taken me a few tries, but now I've got the rhythm down and it's no longer an all-day production. I wanted to start the blackberries around 9am, so I ran the jars through the dishwasher starting at 7am, and at 8am, I put the water canner on medium heat and let the water slowly come to a boil. By the time we got home, all I had to do was make the jam and put it in the jars.

Easy peasy and done with time to spare.

Making A Mermaid

2011-08-18T11:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, it seems like cruel irony that me, the doll maker, ended up with two boys. Sewing with little boys around presents some challenges, too. I was forced to guard my sewing machine and its accouterments from marauding pirates, save my straight pins from little doctors intent on giving "shots," and watch the floor beneath my feet turned into a garbage dump, all the while listening to the following:

-The garbage truck is coming back. It's my turn to dump it.
-Be careful right here, there are cans here, and you might slip and trip.
-Uh oh, it's raining, but the garbage truck is going to work at his job and pick the garbage up in the rain.
-I picked it up and said, "Oh, no! Ow!"
-Did you pick up garbage and rain drops?
-Yes, and when I pick up the rainy garbage it will be scary.

As I poured my female, doll-loving soul into my newest creation, I took stock of the reality of my life and had to laugh. My boys couldn't have been less interested in what I was making (although Sam had some strong opinions about the doll's hairstyle--he was all for the Veronica Lake look), but they did want to be in the room with me, and were happy to cheer me on whenever things were going well (and clear out whenever they weren't). Luckily, that was more often than not.

The last couple of days I've been in a work-with-my-hands kind of mood, and I'd seen this doll pattern online and wanted to try it out. I love Waldorf dolls, and after many years of doll making, I finally have the skills to make one. Plus, there was a special little girl having a 5th birthday, so the doll would be guaranteed a good home. I ordered the pattern from Margaret Lunn here, got started on it yesterday, and finished her up and got her in the mail this morning.

I'd never made a mermaid doll before, but she was a lot of fun to make. I was really happy with the way her multi-color hair turned out, and had a lot of fun designing her jewelry (with some of Sam's left over beading supplies). I'm still not 100% happy with my dollmaking technique--I'm still learning/experimenting with machine sewing/type of fabrics to use (note to self--silky fabric is hard to work with!)/following a pattern. It's considered an "easy" doll pattern, and it probably would've worked a little better if I had used the recommended materials for the body. I substituted polyfil stuffing for wool batting (since I am sooo allergic to wool), and some silky polyester fabric I had instead of cotton interlock knit because the cotton wasn't available when I went to the craft store. The end result looked okay, but had I used different materials I think it would've handled better, and the end result would've looked a little more professional.

But this doll turned out much better than the last one I tried with the same materials, so hopefully someday I will be good enough to design my own dolls and sell them.

A Productive Day

2011-08-17T04:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was one of the most productive days I've had in a long time.

My Caroline rapberry bushes (that were looking pretty sad all summer) have perked up and are producing a nice late summer batch of raspberries. Soon I'll have enough to can another batch of raspberry jam. Can't wait for that! But in the meantime, it's fun to get up in the early morning and go picking from my very own raspberry patch.

After picking, it was time for shopping. I found this pair of Crocs online (the style is called Dawson) and I thought they would be great for the boys for fall/winter.

They slip on, but cover the heel completely, and are fleece-lined--so they're perfect for early, snowy mornings. I love wearing Crocs, the boys love wearing Crocs, we are all Crocs converts around here. I just hate paying Crocs prices (especially when Tom grumbles about me buying Sam $12 sneakers at Walmart). I'd been poking around online for a while, trying to find them on sale, without a whole lot of success. Either the store with the sale didn't have the right sizes, or the only ones they had were pink. It was always something... But yesterday, the heavens opened up, and the shoe gods finally smiled at me. I found the shoes (in the right sizes and colors) at Dick's Sporting Goods online, for $10 less than their price on the Crocs website, plus free shipping, and then I scrounged up an online coupon for another 15% off my purchase. Hooray! I love it when a plan comes together.

After I scored a good deal on my back to school shoes, I went to the gym early (as usual) and when I got home, the boys kept themselves occupied while I finished sewing some fleece pajama pants for Sam. They turned out really well, considering last year I didn't even know how to thread my sewing machine without the instruction manual. And then, since I was in such a Happy Homemaking groove, I whipped up two pairs of fleece mittens for John from the scraps. Granted, they are not the most beautiful mittens that ever were, but last winter, getting a pair of mittens on John was a daily, half-hour ordeal. These slide on easily and effortlessly, so I'm thrilled with the results. Today I might attempt Sam's pajama top, if I start feeling brave. It looks slightly more complicated than the pants, with a fancy (relatively speaking) neck band that I'm afraid I'll screw up. I'm still not feeling very confident in my machine sewing ability, although I'm starting to enjoy it more and more.

To cap our day, after Tom got home, we walked down to Jumpin' Jacks (2 miles round trip) to watch the water ski show there. The CBS Early Show was there doing some filming, and the piece will be broadcast on Friday morning between 8:30 and 9am. Sleepy little Scotia is getting a lot of attention all of a sudden between the Early Show coming here, and the filming locally of The Place Beyond the Pines. I love the life I can live in Scotia--the feeling of being transported to a simpler time--and I'm happy that others have discovered that about it, too.

Industry

2011-08-15T10:19:00.000-07:00

The weather is starting to cool off, and, like every year at this time, my mind is a flurry of activity as I try to do fifty-three things at once. This is my favorite time of year, and the period where the bulk of my creative output happens for the year. This year is extra exciting, because for the first time since 1996, I will have the house to myself, without a kid in sight, from Monday to Friday. I have hungered for quiet and time to myself for the last five years, and after putting in my time at the Mommy Gulag, I have finally been granted my freedom.

The last couple of days have been spent trying to organize the boys' fall wardrobes and getting whatever they need before school starts. Mercifully, they haven't needed a whole lot--just socks, raincoats, winter shoes, mittens, and warm pajamas (Sam). Since I'm feeling so industrious, I got a wild hair to make Sam some fleece pajamas and a few pairs of mittens. Last year, it was such an ordeal to get a pair of gloves/mittens on the boys that I thought we'd never ever get out of the house. Every morning it was the same. Everything would be going swimmingly until it was time for the gloves/mittens to come out, and by the time we all made to the van, one of us would be in tears. I am going to make the simplest, most foolproof mittens for my boys to wear and then we are going to ~~run timed drills~~ practice putting them on until they can get their hands covered in thirty seconds or less.

I haven't yet figured out how I'm going to balance my need to write my novel with my need to go to the gym. In a perfect world, I could write in the mornings, when I have the most energy, and go to the gym in the afternoons after Sam gets home from school. I just wonder if I'll be able to get a space in the gym's childcare at that time, since afternoons tend to book up fast. But the working out has to be a priority, since it's the only way to keep the weight from piling back on. For most of the summer I managed to keep my weight pretty steady, but lately a few stubborn pounds have decided to show up out of nowhere and hang around. Once school starts, I plan to restart the 17 Day Diet, since summer will be over and with it, all the soft serve ice cream stands I can't seem to pass up. I'm not happy with where I'm at on the scale yet, but I needed a break. Now that I've had it, I'm psychologically ready to ~~deprive myself~~ diet again.

Just for curiousity's sake, I picked up a copy of the Dukan Diet while I was at the library this week, since it's supposedly the diet that the Middleton women used to drop weight before the royal wedding. You couldn't pay me money to do it, and usually I'm pretty open minded to trying something new. But I've done Atkins, and it's like Atkins For Masochists. Nothing but lean meat for up to a week, followed by months of alternating between a day of dairy/meat and a day of dairy/meat and vegetables until you lose all the weight you want to lose? Um...no thanks! I want to lose weight, yes, but that doesn't sound like any fun at all.

Besides the Dukan Diet, I have a stack of books I'm devouring right now. I've finished The Story of Beautiful Girl by Rachel Simon, The Dry Grass of August by Anna Jean Mayhew, and Madame Tussaud by Michelle Moran. All were really good. Next on my to-read list is The Help. I find that right before the autumn compulsion to write strikes, I get into a reading frenzy.

Glad to know everything is going exactly according to schedule. (I am such a creature of habit) LOL

Happy Birthday Sam!

2011-08-12T12:55:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up the mother of a five-year-old. I don't know why five suddenly seems like such a milestone, but today, for me, five feels like twenty-one.

In honor of Sam's birthday, I asked him the Yearly Interview With Your Child found here. (And I added a few questions of my own, too.)

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I want to be a firefighter. Because I want to make fire go away. Because I want to do important things.

Favorites:

cereal - plain Cheerios
vegetable - broccoli
drink - apple juice and lemonade
toy - trains
TV Show -Chuggington and Neverland Pirates
game - Yahtzee Jr.
book -Stellaluna
restaurant -Jumpin' Jacks "because it has the delicious ice cream ever"
holiday -Halloween "sure has the yummiest treats ever"
animal - kitties

If you could change your name, what would you choose?

John

What do you love about each person in our family?

John- I love playing trains with him. I like playing outside with him with Ruby. I love going fishing with John.

Daddy- I love playing the same stack game (blocks). I love giving hugs and kisses to him. I love playing trains with him. I love eating bananas and watermelon with Daddy. I love seeing Chuggington with him.

Mommy- I love playing trains with you also. I love giving you 100 kisses. I love playing games with you.

Where would you like to go on vacation this year?

I want to go on the Amtrak to Grandmom and Grandpop's and Uncle Pete, Rhonda, and Nana's.

What are some of your wishes for this year?

A mighty machine toy, toy trains with coaches, diesel 10 with a magic diesel.

What are some things you think about or wonder about a lot?

I don't like it when a wasp, or a dragonfly, or a bee stings me.

When are you brave?

I'm brave when a wasp doesn't sting me.

What are you afraid of?

I'm afraid of giants and monsters and shadows.

What is the best stuff in your life?

Trains.

Tell me about Ruby.

I love giving kisses to her and giving her the best hugs. She's my friend. I love it when gives licks, it makes me super duper happy.

What are you looking forward to in Kindergarten?

I'm looking forward to a train in Kindergarten.

Who are you? What is your purpose?

Sam. My purpose is not eating icing because icing makes you sick.

Why did we ice all your birthday cupcakes then?

If you eat all the cupcakes with icing it'll make you sick.

And there you have it folks. Birthday advice we should all follow... LOL

The Dogs Must Be Crazy

2011-08-05T17:39:00.000-07:00

She looks sweet and innocent, doesn't she?

The other day, Ruby was in her x-pen and got bored. The x-pen was sitting on a plastic drop cloth, the drop cloth was folded in half, and was covered by a layer of newspaper. To my mind, this was puppy Fort Knox. Impenetrable from the outside. Impenetrable from the inside. But Ruby is a terrier and the word "impenetrable" isn't in her vocabulary (okay, "impenetrable" isn't in any dog's vocabulary, but work with me here...). She was bored, so she did what she was bred to do. She burrowed under the newspaper, dug and chewed her way underneath the two layers of plastic, navigated her way in these plastic tunnels to the x-pen walls, and when they didn't budge, she tried to tunnel through the hardwood floor.

Terriers were bred to kill vermin (rats, mice, badgers, foxes, etc.) by digging into the ground into the animal's burrow and either 1) chasing them out and into the mouth of the hounds or 2) killing the creature themselves. Even though they look sweet and harmless, they're really furry assassins. They have been bred to think independently of humans--they don't follow commands beyond "Go in the hole!"-- and by necessity, bite first and ask questions later. They aren't vicious, and they make wonderful pets, but you have to know what you're in for. One minute they look like fluffy, panting throw pillows, the next minute they're playing tug of war with a very unlucky rodent.

Ruby is only three months old, but already her motto is "When in doubt, dig it up and kill it." And she's a little obsessive-compulsive about it.

In fact, she's a little obsessive-compulsive about everything. Like attacking prickly chestnut burrs, even when they poke her. Or licking every. single. one. of. Harley's. whiskers. Twice. (Seemingly impervious to the growling, the hissing, and his claws embedded in her collar) Or barking to be let out of her crate. Nonstop. Like a car alarm. Woof woof, woof woof, woof woof, woof woof, woof woof, woof woof until someone lets her out. Or the way she annihilates a bone, and kills her toys. If it still has some stuffing left in it, it's not dead enough.

Terriers don't do anything half way. They throw themselves body and soul into whatever they're doing 100%. So if they love, they love you as big as the sky. And if they hate, they hate with blind bile-seething passion. Ruby has decided that the slicker brush is her mortal enemy, and whenever it rears its ugly bristles, she feels it her duty to fight it to the death. Every day I work with her, brushing her a little bit, hoping that if I keep at it, eventually she'll learn to accept it. Baths are another story... Ever see a puppy climb up a ceramic tile wall? Yeah... I have.

I'm sure people who are used to more sedate breeds think terriers are deranged, but I can't help myself. It's what I love about them. Any other type of dog would be...well...boring. I think as a writer, I'm drawn to these dogs because living with one is like living in a choose-your-own-adventure novel. They're my furry muses--always inspiring me--always keeping me on my toes.

In Praise Of Please And Thank You

2011-08-04T12:05:00.000-07:00

The other day, I had the following conversation with one of the child care workers at the gym:

--"Sam is really stubborn, isn't he?"

Me bracing myself for the inevitable and thinking: Tell me something I don't already know. "What did he do?"

--"I can't get him to say "please" and "thank you" for anything. I remind him every day, and every day, he forgets.

Me thinking: Oh, God. That child... What am I going to do with him? No "please" and "thank you" now, next it'll be juvie, followed by 20 to life in the pen... Young man, you and I are going to have words in the car on the way home.

Because, obviously, my child is the Neanderthal in the room. The bratty kid that can't get his act together. The one they think was raised by wolves, etc.

But then the conversation went in a direction I didn't expect.

--"I work with him on it because I know you care. And I've heard you reminding him to do it. John always says "please" and "thank you". And they're about the only kids who come to the gym who do."

And that stopped me in my tracks. They what???

How was that possible? In my world, "please" and "thank you" are just a non-negotiable part of speaking. They are drilled into your head until they become automatic. I've been working with the boys since they were old enough to point at an object and grunt, because their politeness reflects on me as a parent.
But one day I observed a little boy at McDonalds, whose mother had their lunch on a tray. The boy was barely in his seat before he was saying, "I want my fries! Where are my fries? Gimmee! Gimmee! Fries! Fries!" I waited for the mom to say something, because God knows, I would sooner dump those fries in the trash than give them to a child who didn't have better manners than that, but this kid's mom had no reaction whatsoever. She handed over the fries without a word. My brain nearly exploded--because I would die of mortification if either of my boys thought talking like that to me or anyone else was even remotely acceptable. I'm not saying that my boys don't talk like that on occasion--they do it thinking they're being cute, and because all kids like to test their limits--but I squelch that nonsense real fast. Because they know (and I'm saying this without a shadow of doubt) that it's rude.

There is a condition in small dogs known as Small Dog Syndrome. It occurs when a little dog does something completely ridiculous--like a chihuahua puppy trying to attack the mailman. The owners laugh and encourage Cujo-like behavior in the puppy, because it weighs two pounds, and at first, it's hilarious. It's so hilarious that they continue to encourage little two pound Fifi to act like Cujo, and before long little adult Fifi is Cujo, with no manners whatsoever, nipping, biting, and growling at whomever it pleases. Because the dog is small, it's allowed to engage in behavior that would never be tolerated in a larger dog. If a German Shepard puppy tried to attack the mailman, no one would laugh. It would be sent straight to obedience school because aggression in a big dog is a big problem.

Adults are also guilty of encouraging something like Small Dog Syndrome in children because, like a mailman-attacking-chihuahua, a toddler with an attitude is hysterically funny. It starts with ignoring "pleases" and "thank yous" and then it deteriorates into your three-year-old screaming at you like a banshee when she gets her milk in the wrong Princess sippy cup. I love watching the little divas ordering their parents around on Toddlers and Tiaras, because their behavior is so totally absurd. But then I ask myself, "It's funny when she's three, but what about when she's thirteen? Will it still be funny then?"

Over-indulged children, whose demands are insatiable, think they must only conceive of a want and it will materialize. They think adults were created to do their bidding, because their parents have never told them otherwise. If only their parents insisted on "please" and "thank you". Words are important, and not just because they make communication possible. They do so much more than that. They convey tone, and humor, mood and energy, feeling, affection, even intention. "Please" and "thank you" aren't just pretty sounds. The reason we use these words, the reason polite conversation demands them, is because they offer acknowledgement. If you have to think about what the listener wants to hear ("please"), you must also acknowledge that 1) the listener has something/can do something for you, 2) the giving of that something is optional, and 3) you are not the one in control. These words nip selfish impulsivity in the bud.

They are very good words.

Fake It Til You Make It

2011-08-02T03:18:00.000-07:00

I keep telling myself I should write more blogs, I should work on my novel, I should do something this summer, but for whatever reason, I just don't have the mojo. What I do have is a cold. In August. It's a bad cold, too--the kind where your whole body aches, your head feels like it's going to explode, and you just want to stay in bed. Luckily, the boys have camp all week, so I should be able to get more rest than I normally might have.

Beyond that, nothing much is going on at the moment.

Last Saturday was the book signing for Beyond the Diaper Bag. I met up with another contributor who lives locally, at Tiny Tots Tea Room, an indoor play place and cafe in the area, and we signed a few books (mostly to people we know and our family members). My in-laws drove up from Syracuse, and my sister-in-law came as well, along with Tom and the boys. We sold two books to moms we didn't know that were at the Tea Room with their kids, so that felt good. It was cool to have so much support. But it was wierd, too, the way I felt about the whole thing. On the one hand, I was very happy and grateful to have been given the opportunity to have a book signing in the first place. But I also felt a bit like a poseur, and had the sense that it might never feel "exciting" until I made the NY Times Bestsellers list and had a line out the door. Wendi (the other author) and I actually talked about what that would be like.While a book signing made up predominantly of family members doesn't feel exactly legitimate, neither one of us likes the idea of being the next Stephen King either.

For the last few weeks, they've been filming the movie The Place Beyond the Pines here in tiny Scotia. Ryan Gosling has been filming bank robbery scenes at the bank across from the fire station on Mohawk Ave. (Scotia's Main Street). Bradley Cooper, Eva Mendes, and Greta Gerwig are in the movie too, and as you can guess, the locals are all in a lather to have movie stars in our midst. Every night, there's a new piece on the news about who saw whom where, what they said, what they got for lunch, how much they tipped. Wendi and I agreed that we never want that kind of fame. I don't carry a cell phone (except when we're traveling) because I like the feeling of being inaccessible. I certainly don't ever want the kind of fame where I can't buy a chicken wrap in peace without it being broadcast on the local news.

But then again, if the news is interested in what you ordered for lunch, it's a pretty safe bet to say you've made it.
I'm not sure at what point the writing I do will start to feel like more of an accomplishment and less hobby, but I hope I'll recognize it before the world gets wind of the fact that lunch for me is usually a handful of Cheerios and the crusts cut off a grilled cheese sandwich.

Putting On A Show (Of One Kind And Another)

2011-07-26T03:54:00.000-07:00

I try not to get political on my blog, because I have many, many friends whose political views are diametrically opposed to mine and I would like to keep them. But the current debt-ceiling debacle has me all tied up in knots/freaked out/on the brink of taking my little picket sign and marching on Washington. Besides the fact that my husband is starting a new job on August 1st and all hell is supposed to break loose on August 2nd, I'd really like to just be able to go about my life without worrying if I'm going to have a weather another recession in a state with one of the highest costs of living in the country. Our elected officials are acting as petulant and stubbornly irrational as my 3-and-4-year old fighting over a garbage truck. They need a spanking and a time out until they can collectively use their big boy(and girl) words and figure out a way to play together without fighting with each other.

I think that instead of Congress being made up of career politicians, our senators and congressmen should be choosen at random from the general populace--similar to jury duty--for a short period of time, say 30 days. They should receive a pittance for their service, just like jurors, and live together in college-style dormitories complete with roommates, cafeteria food, a communal room with a ping pong table, and no other perks whatsoever. Suddenly CSPAN would become the best reality TV show in America.

But since that's never going to happen, here's another show for your viewing pleasure, since we could all use some comic relief right about now. For those who need a little harmony, a little synchronization, I give you Sam and John:

A Good Summer Weekend

2011-07-25T07:57:00.000-07:00

Tom had Friday off, and it's his last scheduled Friday off ever, since he's returning to GE next Monday, so we decided to make a full day of it. We took the boys to camp in the morning, and then went out to breakfast. From there we got haircuts, and then got my van inspected. We picked the boys up from camp and drove up to Great Escape (and its waterpark) for the afternoon. Temperatures were right around 100 degrees, and it was fairly miserable until we actually got in the water. Despite the heat, we had a lot of fun. The boys are real daredevils and wanted to test the bounds of their swimming lessons of late--going down waterslides, walking up to their chin in the lazy river, swimming underwater in the wave pool. It was a little bit panic inducing at times to see them fearlessly diving in, but I'm also glad they aren't afraid. We came home, let Ruby out, and then it was on to Jumpin' Jacks for dinner, ice cream, and a US show ski team practice on the banks of the Mohawk. By the end of the day, I was too tired to move.

Saturday, the boys had a birthday party to go to. And after the birthday party, and after naps, we loaded the dogs into the van and went to Petsmart. Poor not-fully-vaccinated Ruby can't go around other dogs yet for fear of catching parvo, so she had to ride in the cart with Sam and socialize with other dogs from afar. I can't wait until she's fully vaccinated and the weather cools off just a little more so we can take her and Tuendi to the park for walks. They both love meetings other people and dogs, and will be in their glory.

Yesterday was another jam packed day. After doing some chores around the house, we managed to get out to the Schenectady Green Market for the first time. It's a Sunday morning tradition in the area, and it's fabulous. We went a bit nuts surrounded by so much good food--buying fresh bread, local goat cheese, fresh tomatoes and corn, cookies, and maple iced tea (oh my God! heavenly!). The boys were extremely enthusiastic about looking (and touching! ugh...) everything, and got to sample all kinds of new foods. It's definetely going to become our new Sunday morning ritual. After the Green Market, we came home, and ate lunch, took naps,and then we took the boat out for a quick ride. We came home, had dinner, then it was back out to Freedom Park to watch the annual puppet show in the park. It's always a big hit with the boys.

By the time today rolled around, we were all ready for a lazy day with nothing planned.

What I'm Doing On My Summer Vacation

2011-07-20T14:36:00.000-07:00

This is the third time I've attempted a blog this week. Hopefully it will amount to something. I wish I could tell you all about my exciting misadventures of late, but mostly my life can be broken into two parts: 1) listening to the boys ask for food/getting the boys food/refusing to get the boys more food/listening to them whine about the lack of food and 2) standing outside, in blazing sun, rain, and storms repeating, "Go potty....go potty...go potty...go potty until it starts sounding like a meditative chant.

Put the two together and my summer sounds something like this:

"Mom, I want cheese...go potty...cheese...go potty... cheese...okay... Mom, I want yogurt. You just ate...go potty... yogurt...go potty...yogurt...you just ate...go potty...fine. Mom, I'm thirsty....where's your sippy...get your sippy...here's my sippy...for crying out loud, go potty. Mom, I'm still hungry...you can't be hungry...I'm still hungry...wait for dinner...How about an apple? I'm still hungry...go potty. Mom! I NEED FOOD. No! I need food! No! No Ruby NO! Not in the house! MOM I'M STARVING. I'M THIRSTY! I'M HUNGRY AND THIRSTY! Go potty! No! Go potty! No! Go potty!"

Someone needs to put the whining to autotune. It would rock the charts.

I signed the boys up for day camp this week, thinking that it would give me some time to do some writing, but it's just not happening. I haven't got much of anything done this week, outside of running errands, and doing load after load of laundry.

I'm looking forward to the fall when the boys are in school every day and my life falls into a predictable pattern again. For now I'm content to do novel-writing prepwork/research and soak in as much vitamin D as I can before winter comes.

Not very exciting, I know.

The big excitement around here is Ruby. She's fitting in around here beautifully and is such a funny, spunky girl. I love just hanging out with her in the backyard, watching her play with Tuendi, and waging war against the prickly green chesnut burrs that have started falling out of our tree. She has just started barking, and really let that wierd-looking intruder have it yesterday (between jabs to her nose). It was totally hilarious to watch. I felt sorry for her though, because being a terrier, she just didn't have the capacity to stop attacking it, no matter how many times it pricked her.

She's still little, but I predict she's going to be formidable when we take her to the Earth Dog trials. She's a digger, and seeks out tunnels to race through. And judging from her battle with the chesnut burr, she's tenacious and doesn't back away from a fight. I can't wait to see her in action.

Instead of writing, I've been researching Cairn terriers, since it's a new breed for me. Lately I've been fascinated by the way a Cairn's coat changes color throughout their life, and how there's no way to predict what the coat is going to do. Since we got her, Ruby's coat has started lightening considerably--the black and red of her puppy coat are falling out, leaving her a pretty mix of wheaten and silver in places where her new coat is coming in. Regardless, she's a pretty girl.

It's time for another chorus of "Mom, I'm hungry" to start up, seeing as how Tom's due home any minute. I guess I should start thinking about dinner...

Meet Ruby

2011-07-12T04:34:00.000-07:00

There's something really magical about the way a dog comes into your life--a sense of the divine at work. You don't actually pick a dog as much as the universe sends one to you. And it is always the right one.

Take Tuendi, for instance. I knew I wanted a Westie puppy, and that puppy had to be female because I'd already decided on her name. Tuendi is the Hungarian word for fairy (pronounced Toon-dee), and it was a name I'd grown to love while I lived there. I made a deposit on a female puppy, and the breeder said that she was due to have two litters, and I could pick whichever female I wanted. Ten puppies were born to the two mothers--nine were males. So the universe picked out Tuendi for me, and she was exactly what I needed. She is/was so fantastic, that she was responsible for my mom and I rescuing three other Westies.

Sammy I found on petfinder.com, right in the middle of my own time of stomach troubles. Something about a dog with similar issues drew me in, and I knew I needed him in my life. We got well together. And watching him blossom into an athelete always inspired me to become more active myself.

Enter Ruby. Her breeder had several litters of puppies--Westies and Cairn terriers--and I had no idea how I was going to pick one, since I was open to a puppy of either sex or breed. The pressure to get the "right one" was intense, and I had many, many sleepless nights wondering how I'd find the right dog. I knew what I wanted (or more to the point, what our family needed). It had to be an energetic, friendly, adaptable, affectionate dog, with a natural affinity for children. It could not be too dominant or too submissive. And it had to get along with Tuendi and our two cats. I should have calmed down. The universe was working on it.

A week before we left on our trip, I emailed some last minute questions to Wanda, the breeder, and asked her which puppies were still available. She wrote me back that she still had some male Westies, but that there was a little female 9 week old red brindle Cairn terrier that she was holding onto for us to see. I got the impression that Wanda was a little lukewarm about the idea of us getting one of the Westies (even though a male Westie was what Sam was asking for specifically), not that the male Westies weren't great, but because the Cairn puppy was so much better for our family. So I said we'd take her based on Wanda's recommendation.

We decided to call her Ruby, even though Tom and the boys preferred Mavis. I had too many French classes in college, and to my discerning ear (haha), it sounded too much like mauvais (which means bad or wrong--not exactly the sentiment I was going for). Also the name Mavis seemed a little subdued, a little too formal, too dark and mysterious for my liking. I suggested Ruby. It's a down-to-Earth name (perfect for an Earth dog), it doesn't take itself too seriously, and it sounds fun and playful. It's also a little nod to her red brindle coloring, and the Wizard of Oz (the ruby slippers), which wouldn't be complete without the Cairn terrier, Toto. I liked the name and so did the boys (because of the cartoon Max and Ruby). So we were decided.

When the boys first met Ruby, she barreled across the room and showered John with kisses. It was love at first sight.

She is a great dog, and her personality is a tick list of all the qualities I was looking for. She managed the extraordinarily long drive from SC to NY like a seasoned pro, is adaptable and happy-go-lucky. Spunky, all terrier, smart as a whip, highly energetic and playful, loves everyone in the house (Tuendi and cats included), and even though we've only had her since Saturday, it feels like she's been here all along.

Potty training is going well, and she sleeps well in her crate so long as she can see us (her crate is sitting on my nightstand). As puppies go, she's a piece of cake.

Tuendi, surprisingly, shares the same sentiment. Last night, when I took Ruby to the vet for her first check-up, Tuendi sat at the fence keeping vigil until I got back. She looked happy to see me, but when I opened the crate and let Ruby into the backyard, she broke out into a big doggie smile and looked much, much happier (and dare I say it, relieved).

It would seem that everyone is happier with Ruby around.

The Boys' Circus Birthday Party

2011-06-30T17:07:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday was the boys' circus-themed birthday party. I had hoped to have the whole thing in the backyard--was planning to decorate the backyard like a carnival midway, have all the games on the driveway, and was counting on the kids' playing on the swingset to burn off energy... The best laid plans...*sigh* Saturday ended up being the exclamation point on a week of torrential downpours. So the party moved inside...

I moved all the furniture out of the boys' playroom and put all the games in there. We had a ring toss. I re-purposed 1/2 of a cornhole game and made a bean bag toss feed-the-lion game. We had a toss-the-ball-in-the-popcorn box game (our take on the ping-pong-ball-in-the-fish-bowl). We had pin the nose on the clown. Plus, a guess-how-many-m&ms-are-in-a-jar game (607 and I counted every single one of them).

The boys had a great time helping me set up. They especially loved all the helium balloons.

I was lucky enough to have A LOT of help for this party. My in-laws and brother and sister-in-law came to help us, running the games and "concessions" so that Tom and I could ~~run around like chickens with our heads cut off~~ keep everything running smoothly. I seriously could not have pulled it off without the four extra sets of hands. It was complete and total chaos, but at least with them around, it was controlled chaos. :-)

I decorated the dining room table, and had some crafts set up for the kids to make when they arrived. They had a choice between circus animal visors or clown hats (paper party hats) that they could decorate with glitter glue, pompoms, feathers, and jewels.

I ordered plain cupcakes from Price Chopper and put my own clown picks in them. The cake stand also came with balloon picks, so the cupcakes looked very festive.

We also served lemonade, popcorn, soft pretzels, and snow cones. When I found out that it would cost $50 a day to rent a snow cone machine, I decided I'd be better off just buying a small snow cone machine to have at home. I found one on amazon.com that came with all the syrups, cups, and spoons--for $50. To me that seemed like a much better deal!

Mommy had a lot of fun planning for this party. Can you tell? LOL

That Old Re-Occuring Theme

2011-06-20T18:03:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago, probably after I regaled her with yet another look-at-how-my-children-tortured-me-with-poop story, Kira bought me these key covers (And yes, I am using them on my keys. They make me laugh in an oh-my-god-I-either-have-to-laugh-at-my-life-or-stab-myself-to-death-with-a-pooper-scooper kind of way. If you want your own, you can get them here).

They are the perfect gift for the writer, who, sadly, has made stories about her misadventures with poop into a claim to fame. (You don't have to tell me how pathetic that is.)

And just when you thought there was no topping the last poop story, here I come with another horrible tale...

This one should probably be called: Are You Sure You Want A Pair Of Boys? or Why This Would Never Never EVER! Happen To A Mom Of Two Girls.

Last weekend, Tom and I did a little re-arranging in the basement and created a nice little astro-turfed area for the boys to play with their garbage trucks. They like to propel their trucks through the house and then ram them into the walls. Since I'm afraid this kind of play will terrorize the new puppy, I suggested we move them all downstairs. The boys thought this was a great idea and spent may happy hours playing down there in a space where Mommy left them alone. I was happy because the screaming and banging was muffled and I no longer had to spend every waking moment of my life listening to garbage truck sound effects. It was a beautiful thing, while it lasted.

On Wednesday morning, I skipped the gym (my first mistake) and let the boys play in the basement all morning without watching them too closely (my second mistake) because, I told myself, there wasn't a whole lot they could do to wreck the basement (my third mistake). Sam came upstairs after a while and said he wanted to play outside, so I positioned myself on the sun porch so I could watch Sam on the swing set and keep an ear out for John, who was still downstairs. I had just opened up Microsoft Word and had just literally allowed my cursor to hover over my novel document when John came upstairs and announced that he was poopy.

Just for the record, his Pull-Up was drier than the Mohave desert. The rest of him--from his hair to the spaces between his toes... well, that was another story. I went down into the basement to investigate, because I know from previous experience that a poopy child = a poopy room. I know... I know... those of you who are horror movie afficionados know the drill... Don't ever go look in the basement...blahblahblah.

Well, I looked in the basement.

Someone had opted not to come upstairs to go poopy in the potty. That was bad. But it was like the small puddle of blood that's discovered before the TV detective finds the mutilated body....

Apparently, two little someones had tracked what would have been a relatively easy cleanup all over the 80-year-old, uneven, un-finished, very pitted, extremely porous basement floor. And had run their garbage trucks through it. And used their sand toys to shape it into little castles. Then they'd run through it and tracked poopy footprints everywhere. Cozy Coupe had gotten a fairly thorough waxing with it. The new astro-turf rug was covered. So was my elliptical.

Everywhere I looked, all was poop.

I went to find the culprit.

He was hiding in his swing set clubhouse. Using skills acquired from watching ninety-bazillion hours of Busytown Mysteries, I deduced that the brown-stained pants of my eldest child were in fact the same color and consistency of my brown-stained basement.

I'm pretty sure my head blew off at that point, so I take no responsibility for my actions after that. I was temporarily insane. And pissed. So I screamed. A lot.

And then I put Sam to work cleaning Cozy Coupe, while I scrubbed the floors. I was not a happy individual, as you might imagine.

And then I went upstairs for more hot, soapy water, where I found John, covered once again, head to toe, in poop. Cue the part where I lost it completely.

I cried as I carried him (at arm's length) to the shower. I wept as I scrubbed him down (again). Wailed as I looked around the bathroom at the poop puddles on the floor, the poop-painted toddler potty, the brown smears on the toilet, cabinet doors, and good towels. I cried, and when he saw he'd made Mommy cry, John cried. And Sam, who'd come upstairs and was sitting in the playroom, started crying, too.

We all had ourselves a good, long cry.

I went back downstairs, and for the next two hours, as I scrubbed the floor, I kept crying. I cried whenever I thought about the fact that I have a Master's degree, and am a published author, and an award-winning playwright. I know multiple languages. I can embroider like nobody's business, and make cute little dolls too. By all accounts, my life should be rich and full and interesting, and yet, instead of doing any of that, I was on my hands and knees cleaning up my children's shit once again.

If that's not a metaphor for motherhood, I don't know what is.

I'm sure there are moms out there who say that raising children is life's greatest joy and that there is no finer thing in life than to spend time at home with one's own children--but I can pretty much guarantee that they have never had to scrape poop out from beneath teeny tiny garbage truck tire treads.

I'll spare you the histrionics, the bitching, the moaning, the why-mes, and all of that.

Just know that it was a very shitty day.

Dog Adventures Old And New

2011-06-14T05:03:00.000-07:00

I haven't been able to sleep much lately. My thoughts are consumed with all things doggie--and I am really out-of-my-mind excited about our new puppy--but probably not for the reasons you'd expect.

A long time ago, when I was a Brittany I wouldn't recognize anymore, I was engaged to a guy I was dating (Or at least in my mind I was engaged. My thirty-four year old self would've put the brakes on that notion real fast as soon as 1) he didn't tell his parents about our engagement and 2) he couldn't afford an engagement ring, but could spend $2K a week going to bars). It wasn't a good situation, but something good came out of it. In the course of one of our conversations, when he asked me what I wanted for a wedding present, I told him I wanted a West Highland Terrier. I'd seen one before on a commercial on tv and had decided then and there that a Westie was the dog for me. As talk of the wedding continued, I slowly realized that I was actually looking more forward to getting the dog than being married to him. I wanted a reason to be home, to go on long quiet walks in the park, to curl up on the couch with my dog and read, or write, or sew. I didn't want to be out partying, drinking in bars, and clubs, and socializing with half the known universe. I'd tried hard to convince myself that that lifestyle was lots of fun, but, in time, it became clear that it just wasn't my thing. Eventually I broke up with him and bought myself Tuendi.

Tuendi went to grad school with me, was my only roommate, my best friend, my cheerleader. Having Tuendi opened me up to a whole new world of life-with-dog. A world where I could be an introvert, and not have to fight against my basic nature. When Tom (another introvert) and I started dating, we bonded over her antics and the quiet world of walks outside. I learned about dog rescue and pet therapy, we adopted Sammy, and I even wrote my master's thesis on therapeutic dog characters in young adult literature.

After Tom and I got married and we moved to Cincinnati, we became active in a Kentucky terrier club and started entering Sammy in the Earth Dog trials. One early anniversary, we even went to Camp Dogwood, which is basically a summer camp environment for people and their dogs.

For a while there, dogs were my universe.

And then we had the boys.

That put an end to my doggified world really quick. After you have children, your pets, no matter how much you love them, fall down the pecking order substantially. I'll admit, for a few years there, I didn't have the energy, the emotional resources, or the time to care about the dogs beyond their most basic needs. Even something as simple as taking them for a walk became an impossibility--trying to maneuver a double stroller and a tandem leash up a busy road in an unsidewalked neighborhood just wasn't going to happen. I had to put my life on hold for years of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and sweeping up pounds of Cheerios from off the floor, and everything I wanted to do with the dogs had to go on hold, too.

I kept telling myself that after the boys were older, things would go back to normal. I pictured happy family walks (sans stroller). Earth dog trials as a family, when the boys were old enough to go and not incite a riot among a group of already hyped-up terriers. Games of fetch and nights spent watching doggie antics. But then Sammy got sick, and we were instead dealing with his aggressive outbursts. We tiptoed around the house in fear of setting him off, and for a time, I forgot how much joy having dogs had brought me in the past. How having them, and even before that, the thought of having them, had actually changed the course of my life for the better.

One of the most unexpected aspects of having to put Sammy down was coming to terms with the fact that those happy, carefree doggie days I'd loved and benefited so much from were behind us. I grieved over the fact that the boys would never know the pure joy of watching Sammy hunting, or racing, or going to ground. That they'd never laugh at the sight of two young Westies zooming in the backyard. Never know me when I was young, with hobbies and interests outside of theirs. Never know me as I had been.

I can't tell you what made my mom or grandparents or great-grandparents tick when they were younger. When childish pursuits gave way to true interests, when they were still free to indulge in hobbies that would give way to child-rearing, and possibly be lost forever. I have an incomplete picture of them, just as, no doubt, my children have an incomplete picture of Tom and I in our heyday. And it makes me sad.

But I realized that that doesn't have to be the end of the story. The boys are older now, and are curious about who their parents are. They ask a lot of questions about what we used to do before they were born, and we have started telling them about the dogs and the amazing things they used to do together.

For her part, Tuendi has really blossomed over the last few months. She's interacting with the boys more and more. Yesterday she even sat for the treats Sam and his friend were trying to give her. Even though she enjoys being the top dog around here, I don't think she'd object to having a new friend around. Like the rest of us, she has a huge capacity to love--to scoot over and make room in her heart for just one more. But then again, she was the one who initially taught us how it's done.

So we're starting over. Repeating the past and heading into the future all at the same time. I'm sleepless because I know what's coming and yet don't know what's coming. I've lived this life before, but now it's all new again.

Our next big doggie adventure awaits. May it once again change us for the better.

Prep Work

2011-06-09T00:51:00.000-07:00

It's been one of those nights...

John is sick (probably with the same lingering virus I'm just getting over) and has been extra clingy the last couple of days. Last night, he was so hopped up after a long mid-afternoon nap that he refused to settle down and go to sleep until around 10pm. Tonight he was down at 8, up at 10, and after I put him back in his bed at 11, was once again in ours at 2am--kicking me until I was wide awake.

You know how they say paybacks are hell? Yeah... I was once a kicker (and a foot wedger) too...

So it's 2:44, my half of the bed has been reduced to a quarter. Tuendi is laying between my ankles. Dove is sharing my pillow and any space left between me and John. Nose is running. Allergies are flaring. I am suddenly aware of all the different lights on in the neighborhood. And I realize that no matter what I do, I'm up--whether I like it or not.

So why not blog?

This has been one of the most productive weeks I've spent in recent memory. Most of it doing prep work for things going on in the future. When it comes down to it, I really love a good list. And I'm in my glory when I get to plan. I love a good plan, with an emergency backup plan B, and a plan C in case of a change in weather, and a plan D in case the other three plans all simultaneously unravel. I could plan all day long and never actually get anything accomplished and still be happy. So to get to plan 1) a trip, 2) getting a puppy, 3)the boys' birthday party, 4) a book signing and 5) a novel... Well, I'm basically blissed out of my mind.

1) In early July, we're heading down to the Carolinas for a visit. I can't believe it's been a year since we were last there. Time has really flown, and I've felt so at home here that I didn't feel much compulsion to make the 14 hour drive to NC. But I really do miss my family and friends, and since Tom and I have family along the route south, our trip is turning into a grand tour of the eastern seaboard. This week I've been working on our itinerary,finding a cat sitter, figuring out what days we'll be where, coordinating visits, and making hotel reservations. Things have come together once we get to North Carolina, but I'm still waiting to hear from cousins in Pennsylvania to see whether they'll be home at the same time we're passing through.

2) It's official. We're definetely getting a puppy (from Tuendi's breeder in SC). I'm so excited that I'm totally beside myself. And it's not because I'm not happy with the pets we already have. It's more on behalf of the boys, who have no idea how much fun having a puppy will be. And excited for our family, because there is nothing quite so entertaining (to us) as funny puppy antics. We're homebodies to the core and love hanging out at home with each other. I invision a lot of playing in the backyard, walks in the park, and hopefully, in the not-too-distant future, taking our new puppy to the Earthdog Trials as a family. Sam is excited about the new puppy too, but in a surprisingly understated way--because he never does anything in an understated way. Last night at bedtime he told me he was looking forward to a dog that would sleep on his bed, play with him outside, and sit on the couch and watch Busytown Mysteries with him. But as he said it, he seemed skeptical that such a thing was likely to happen. He's grown up in a home with two dogs that made it very clear from the outset that they were for looking, not touching. And such a little thing as proximity is foreign to him. Were it not for his experiences with my aunt and uncle's Shi tzu, I'm sure Sam would never believe that dogs enjoyed his company at all. And that is sad. So while he is cautiously optimistic about the puppy, I am unabashedly preparing for its arrival, bringing home an armful of children's books on puppy care, obedience, and what we should expect. Every night I read them to him and John. Yesterday we went to Petsmart and loaded up on puppy supplies. The boys each got to pick out a new toy for the puppy, as well as its new collar and leash. We're also working on dog names--all of which (surprise, surprise) are shared by Thomas the Tank Engine characters. (Today's front runners: Gordon, Henry, Daisy, Rosie, and Henrietta) Now I'm researching dog temperment and how to pick the right puppy for our family (apparently middle of the road--neither the litter's alpha or omega--is best for small children). Did I mention I also love to research? It's just like planning, only more interesting...

3) The boys' circus-themed birthday party is June 25th. I only lack a few things now. Today while shopping for puppy supplies, we also went to the party store for plates, cups, utensils, and party games. I think I have just about everything now I need now. The only thing I lack at this point is a firm headcount. The next couple of weeks will be devoted to making all the things I need to make--like a big cardboard tiger head. I'm not sure of my artistic ability--so best to get an early start. :-)

4) The book signing for Beyond the Diaper Bag is scheduled for July 30th. Now for the fun part--planning for it. Wendi, my co-book signee, and I are still trading ideas on how to proceed. Today we brain-stormed ideas for a raffle.

5) But in the meantime, I finally decided that I was way in over my head with my novel. Since I wrote it in pieces here and there without any kind of outline or clue what I was doing with it, it morphed into 20-something thousand very disorganized words. Every time I tried to work on it, I would get all tangled up in the mess of it all and couldn't get anywhere without feeling like I had no idea what the heck I was doing anymore. The boys will be in half day summer camp in a couple of weeks, so I decided there was no time like the present to get my plot organized. Earlier this week, I created a fairly detailed outline for myself, so that, hopefully, I won't get lost in it again. Oh, and as if that wasn't enough writing success for one week, yesterday morning I woke up with a title in my head--and had this brilliant idea that I ought to self-publish my Master's thesis about therapeutic dog characters in YA literature. That's an idea I'm still mulling.

I'm Blog-Hopping

2011-06-08T15:15:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone! Today I'm guest blogging at Living Well, Spending Less with a tutorial on canning your own strawberry jam in 5 easy steps. Come check me out!

I Love My Garden

2011-06-05T06:57:00.000-07:00

It's absurd how much I love my garden. I feel like a doting mother, always fussing about it. I'm certainly not so hands on with my actual children. I like to stand back and let them do their own thing (within reason). But with the garden, I am exceedingly overprotective,

I nearly lost my mind when last month's torrential rain caused everything I'm growing to suddenly start to rot. When the leaves began to turn brown and limp on my tomato plants, I doused it with antifungal spray every day for a week until the plant began to perk up again. Now I have lovely little yellow flowers where my tomatoes are going to come in.

When my newly planted Caroline raspberries started curling up and dying, I scoured the internet for a reason for it, and when nothing proved a satisfactory explanation, I attacked it with antifungal spray, insecticide, and bulb toner. I was leaving nothing to chance. Let nature take its course? Not with my plants!

My raspberries, though no longer beautiful, are looking much better. I am not fully happy with shriveled, dried-up looking raspberry stalks, not when they can be greener, lusher, healthier-looking. So today I weeded the raspberry bed and dumped a couple of bags of mulch on top.

I've never grown raspberries before, but as soon as I saw the pathetic-ness that was that long-neglected raspberry bed, I made it my mission to turn the proverbial sow's ear into a silk purse. Imagine my delight to discover that there are little pre-raspberry blooms forming, even on the damaged stalks. I am so excited! But am I satisfied with that? That I have raspberries coming in? Absolutely not.

There are the ants in my raspberry bed. Although beneficial to the garden, I do not want them sniffing around my raspberries. I have plans for those raspberries. Sometime in the very near future, I will be making jam--from my very own garden. The ants could ruin everything if they get to the ripe raspberries before I do.

I tried an organic insecticide soap, but my ants merely laughed at it and carried right on laying scent trails up my raspberry canes. So today, after laying the mulch down, I sprinkled cinnamon (a natural ant repellent) all around my plants. I'm hoping this does the trick, but as a side benefit, my raspberry patch smells wonderful. Ants may not like the smell of cinnamon, but I definitely do!

So far my beans and peas are looking good, but something has been eating my squash leaves. The lettuce I planted doesn't seem to be producing, so I re-planted more lettuce seeds today, and also planted a Thai basil plant. I love Caprese salad, and basil is so necessary to its flavor. I also love Holy Basil chicken whenever we eat Thai. With some Thai basil around, I might get inspired to try the recipe myself.

I was also pleasantly surprised to discover that, seemingly overnight, my strawberry plant grew an abundance of little green strawberries. I can't wait for them to ripen.

The boys love to go work in the garden with me. They came out with their little sand shovel and rake to help me spread mulch around today, and I frequently have help when it's time to do some watering. They are so proud of all the food that's growing, and I am proud that we're finally gardening as a family. It's something I've dreamed about doing even before we ever had kids, but somehow, before now, we were never quite able to pull it off. This year, I think it's going to finally work out for us.

But I'm not taking any chances. Next on my list: cayenne pepper to keep the squirrels out of my strawberries...

A Boy And A Dog

2011-06-04T04:02:00.000-07:00

I think everyone needs a dog, for reasons that I talked about here. But then again, I am a dog person. I like dogs around me, I like hanging out with them, and I like activities centered around them. The boys love dogs too, and none of us have gotten over losing Sammy. Which is why I promised Sam that we would get him a puppy if he 1) worked on his tantrums and 2) learned how to appropriately handle a dog. (And I don't mean co-existing with it peacefully. I have higher standards than that. I mean handling the dog--training, walking, anticipating and taking care of the dog's needs himself.)

Sam is a kid that thrives under responsibility, so I've decided to give him some.

Every day now, we go for a walk around the block and Sam is responsible for walking Tuendi. While we're walking, I tell him about dogs--how to watch their body language, how to talk to them, the proper way to approach and pet them, and how to give them treats.

Tuendi is not exactly thrilled that I'm asking her to follow Sam's commands, so Sam is getting a crash course in Resistant-Stubborn-Puppy 101. She'll dig in her heels and refuse to walk, so Sam is learning the importance of the high, enthusiastic voice and the well-timed back scratch. He's also learning that respect between humans and dogs is a two-way street, and that in order to get Tuendi to work with him, he's going to have to calm down and be in control. I see it as one more way for him to practice the lessons we're trying to teach him.

It's amazing how well he's doing in just a week. Now he's gentle with the cats and calm around the dog. Tuendi's happier than ever (and that's saying something because she's always happy). Sam's making substantial progress and I'm so proud of him.

Happy 3rd Birthday, John!

2011-06-03T04:36:00.000-07:00

My baby boy is three today. For three years, he has filled up my life with his sweet, gentle, fun-loving personality.

John on his birthday.

I remember when this picture was taken--on his birth date--I was so pleased with it. Unlike most baby pictures, it looked exactly like him, and perfectly captured his sweetness as well as his focus.

John at 1 year

When this picture was taken, I remember being disappointed that it lacked the 1-year-old exuberance of Sam's portrait. I'd purposefully dressed John in the same clothes and put him in the same pose. But it just goes to show that with two children, no matter what you do, they will be their own people. This picture is so John. Sweet, a little shy, taking in the scene before he opens up, biting his lower lip, concentrating on the moment.

John at 2 years old

By two, John had his own likes (The Wiggles) and dislikes (smiling for pictures). This picture perfectly captures his two-year-old self. He's busy and I've interrupted him. He's humoring me with a half smile, but he really just wants to get back to what he was doing.

John at 3 years old

Today John is a happy boy, who is excited about going to camp, and swim lessons, and starting preschool for the first time. He'll smile for pictures now, but frequently is looking off into the distance. He doesn't want to take time out for pictures when he can be doing something fun.

In honor of his third birthday, here are three new facts about John.

1) John's Grandmom calls him "The Little Italian". Until she mentioned it, I never noticed how much he talks with his hands (almost constantly). Everything he says is emphatic. He will be telling you about what the garbage trucks did, and each sentence is accompanied by a big gesture.

2) John loves every kind of truck. Last night at the park, there was a play structure that was shaped and colored like a fire truck. John told me it was a "fire bus"--that it went to school and put out fires. His creativity never ceases to amaze me.

3) Whenever he feels hurt or upset, John wants to snuggle in my lap with "blanket". Blanket is a green fleece blanket that I received at Sam's baby shower. Sam was never very attached to it, but I took it to the hospital with me when John was born and John loved it right away. They've been inseparable ever since. If you ask John what blanket's name is, he says it's "Green".

Red, Yellow, Green

2011-06-01T14:43:00.000-07:00

I know it's not going to surprise anyone when I say that my #1 challenge as a parent is helping Sam control his emotions. I'm not an overly emotional person, and it's hard to be a stoic-suck-it-up type of mother with a child who feels every emotion intensely. I'm of two minds about his outbursts. On the one hand, they drive me crazy, and frequently, I'd like nothing more than to don sound-proofed earmuffs and ignore him completely. But on the other hand, there are benefits to feeling everything deeply, and when Sam isn't wallowing in the throes of misery, he's a really sweet kid--very sensitive, creative, intuitive, snugly. In truth, I don't want to squelch his emotional life. All I really want is for him to realize that even though he feels something in a big way, he doesn't always have to have a big reaction to make his feelings known.

With that in mind, I talked to Sam about his reactions. There are green reactions--the sort we want him to have--where he uses his words and discusses the things that bother him calmly. Yellow reactions are whiny or defiant. Red reactions are aggressive, irrational, full-on tantrums. And since Sam needs to experience things for himself, I designed him a board game with red, yellow, and green spaces and wrote up situation cards that tend to trigger an outburst (ie. You want the green bowl at lunch, but Mom gives it to John instead). Depending on which color space he lands on, he has to act out a green, yellow, or red reaction. My hope is that if he acts out yellow and red reactions, he will recognize what he's doing the next time he has one, and will try to dial things down. Also, by modeling and practicing green reactions, he's learning the sort of reactions he should be having.

Now instead of telling him non-specifically that I don't like his reaction to something, I tell him, "That's a yellow reaction, Sam." Or "You are being very red at the moment, Sir."

We've had several good days since I instituted the green/yellow/red talk and the board game, but today Sam just lost it when I sliced an apple for him and mid-slice he decided he'd prefer it whole. That escalated from yellow to red, and when I took him to his room to calm down, he purposefully peed on his bed. Instead of going nuts about it, I pointed out that he had moved up to red, made him strip his bed, clean up his mess, and change his clothes. Then I told him he was either a very mean boy or very tired, but either way, he needed to spend some time in his room. I left him there, he calmed down, we had a calm discussion about what he'd done that was yellow and what he'd done that was red, I asked him to apologize, and he's re-grouped since then.

If things keep going like they have been, I'm hopeful that, this year, we're all going to have a better summer.

A Great Spring Day

2011-05-31T04:43:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was an awesome day. We got up early and went up to Great Escape in Lake George (about an hour away to the north) with our neighbors and got our season passes for the year. I've been wanting to take the boys to Disney World, but it's a whole lot easier to go to the amusement park in our own backyard. And the boys had a great time. John is finally tall enough to ride some of the more exciting rides and both boys are adrenaline junkies anyway, so they had a great time! I'm looking forward to going back to the water park ASAP. It was in the 90s yesterday, and when you get used to it being "warm" in the 60s, the 90s are a major shock to your system!

Not that I'm complaining. After the winter we had, the heat and sun is much appreciated.

After we got home, I made dinner while the boys ran around in our neighbor's sprinkler, and then we got back together later in the evening to grill s'mores over our gas grill. Not as much fun as an open fire, but since they aren't allowed in Scotia, we made do. While we were out there, another neighbor who frequently takes walks by our house came by with her almost-3-year-old daughter and we invited her over to play on the swing set.

Amazingly, Tuendi was outside with us and didn't seem to mind the 4 children running around the backyard. Yesterday John sat beside her petting her for a long time, and I didn't have to restrain her. Maybe she'll come around.

We all had a good day yesterday.

Making Dough Boys

2011-05-30T13:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we spent the afternoon at my brother-in-law's at a cookout. The highlight of the day was, as always, making dough boys.

Some people have never had the glorious campfire delicacy called a dough boy. I hadn't until we moved up to New York and Dan, my brother-in-law, taught us how to make them.

Step One: Open a can of refrigerated biscuits. Take one of the biscuits and starting at the end of a thick stick (think broom handle-size), place it on the end and shape it into a long tube shape.

Step Two: Roast dough-covered stick over an open fire. The dough will cook and puff up, making a perfect little pouch when you remove the dough boy from the stick.

Step Three: Fill the opening in the dough boy with chocolate chips, which will promptly melt. The end result is divine.

For the purists out there, this is the one and only way to make a dough boy. For the experimental among us, the possibilities are endless. Fill the pouch with a mozzarella cheese stick and dip in marinara sauce, roll in butter and then coat with cinnamon and sugar, stuff with fruit and whipped cream, etc.

Enjoy!

Things Fall Apart, Things Come Together

2011-05-29T06:38:00.000-07:00

I've tried multiple times over the last week to write something resembling a blog, but it's a no-go. I've even tried to write this particular blog several times, and keep stopping mid-way through and thinking, "Oh, God... This sucks. Who cares?"

I'm in the weeds right now... I think every mom whose kids are out of school right now feels like her Wheaties have been peed in. With two boys at home, everything is a battle. No one wants to share. No one wants to agree. Everything requires negotiation and planning. While I used to be able to squeeze in a blog here and there and do a little tinkering on my novel while Sam was in school, now my mornings are spent refereeing squabbles over who gets to play with the toy tow truck. The other day, both boys took a nap at the same time (in itself a miracle). I straightened up the kitchen, swept out the sun porch, sat down to work on my novel, managed to write exactly seven words, when, wouldn't you know it, John woke up. That is the story of my life. I want to scream to the heavens "Are we having fun yet?"

Sam isn't having any fun either. Summer is really rough on him. He's a great kid. But he leads everything with his feelings, and his feelings are big. It's like he inherited all the emotions that Tom and I weren't using. And then took over all the emotions John wasn't using. And now four people's worth of emotion lives in one very small, 41 lb body. As Sam navigates the change in routine and a summer spent negotiating with John over the toy tow truck, he's spending a lot of time hysterically wailing. I'm having the strongest sense of de ja vous... Didn't we do this last summer? I don't believe he has a mood disorder or a psychiatric condition. He simply lacks the ability to engage himself in inner dialogue; the ability to say, "Hey, maybe screaming at mom is not the answer. If I calmly explain my situation, she'll understand why I'm frustrated."

My project for the summer is teaching him to engage this voice. It's not going to make for the most pleasant summer of my life. But isn't this what mothers are for? Helping their kids navigate the world, especially the hard parts? But it's not without frustration for me, because it's definitely not what I want to be doing.

This is the summer (it seems) where my writing and mothering lives have finally come together. I've been published in Beyond the Diaper Bag, and like a good little self-promoting author, I used my contacts to arrange a local book signing. It's tentatively scheduled for July 30th, and I'm really excited about it. I don't think people realize that writers are all a very insecure bunch. Even when people tell us they like our writing, even when we win contests, or have things published here and there, it's not enough to feel legitimate. Writing feels like a hobby that you're good at. You keep writing, and keep submitting, if only to prove to yourself that that last time someone liked your stuff it wasn't a fluke--that they didn't just publish you because they barely got enough submissions, or no one entered the contest.

Honestly, I feel embarrassed to tell people that I'm a "writer". It sounds dishonest. When I think "writer" I think Hemingway, Faulkner, Dorothy Parker, Stephen King. Not me. But there's something about a book signing that makes it feel a little closer to being true.

I just wish I could work (and I mean really work) on my novel. Seven words a day (when I'm lucky) is going to turn me into a crazy woman.

I'm trying to keep it all in perspective. My inner voice keeps telling me, "Just get through this summer. Have fun with the boys. You'll have so much more time in September." But like Sam, I'm fighting the urge to throw myself on the ground and wail, "Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh! But I want to write now!"

And, even though I know it's completely nuts, "Waaaaaaaaah! I don't want to wait a few years to get a new dog! I want a new dog now!"

Tom tells me that the writer in me has come up with this nice little story I tell myself. And he might be right. But I truly believe that Sam could really benefit from a nice, even-tempered dog, that loves to play, and won't mind being snuggled with. Tuendi is a phenomenal dog. She is exactly the type of dog I'd always wanted. Perfect for me in every way. Unfortunately, she is not the dog the boys need. She's skittish and frightened of too much noise. You throw a ball and she looks at you like, "You gonna go get that thing?" She'll sit next to the boys, and will even hop onto the foot of their beds for story time at night, but will move away if they touch her and jump down if I leave the room. She is my dog, and Tom's dog, but not theirs. She's hanging out with us because I'm there, or Tom's there, but she's not there for them. From her, and Sammy, the boys have learned that dogs exist in the house but aren't friends. And I hate that for them, because when a dog is there for you, and when a dog is your friend, it can really have a profound effect on the way you feel about yourself and your situation.

I have to say, "Sam, use your words. Sam, is this an appropriate reaction? No, you can't just take John's tow truck. You have to ask. No, you can't scream and throw things when you're mad. This is unacceptable behavior. Go to your room until you're ready to calm down again." But he needs to be able to wrap his arms around a big furry neck, bury his face in warm fur, and have his tears licked away. I can't do that for him. As much as I want to, I can't just love him and let him be. But we all need balance in our lives. The ones who speak the truth and hurt your feelings and help you grow, and the ones you go to, who pick you up, dust you off, dress your wounds, and love you anyway. Sam needs steady, unconditional love--the kind a good dog gives best.

But it would have to be an amazingly good dog. And it's a a dog I haven't found yet. I'm keeping my eyes out and figure it will find our family when the time is right. Maybe in July or August, when Sam has learned to control his emotions, and will really need a friend as he starts Kindergarten...

We'll just have to wait and see...

Guest Blogging

2011-05-26T05:54:00.000-07:00

Just a quick note to let you know that on June 8th, I'm going to be the guest blogger at Living Well, Spending Less, written by my friend Ruth. Ruth writes the most amazing blog, and if you haven't already, you should definetely check it out. My post on 5 Easy Steps For Canning Strawberry Jam will (hopefully) inspire you to put all that fresh summer produce to good use.

How Does Your Garden Grow - 2011 Version

2011-05-21T14:47:00.000-07:00

Today, I spent the afternoon cleaning out the poor, neglected raspberry bed that I talked about here. When we moved to our house, there were two bedraggled canes growing in the weed-choked bed beside the house. I liked the idea of having my own berry plants (but didn't have a clue what to do with them). Once we discovered the joys of raspberry picking last summer, I decided to do some research, learn what I could about growing raspberries, and see if we couldn't get a whole patch going.

Once I got the bed cleared out, I went to the local plant store and got two new raspberry plants. They are called Caroline raspberries--a heavy producer that holds its flavor well when preserved--that sounded like exactly what I needed. This is what the bed looks like now:

My raised beds we started on Mother's Day are doing well, too. Here are my beans and peas:

And here are my squash, tomatoes, peppers, and lettuce (squint and you can see the grean shoots popping up):

I had a small crisis with my big tomato plant. After getting so much rain this past week, it's leaves developed fungus on the leaves. I had to go out and buy an antifungal to save the plant, but it doesn't seem to have spread anymore.

My strawberry plants are also doing well. I can't wait until berries start to form. My boys can eat a pound container of strawberries in a couple of minutes, so having some on hand will make us all happy.

We have some new friends in the garden, too. My grandmother-in-law sent each of the boys a solar frog light (which is a very strange, but oddly appropriate gift for small boys). Here they sit:

The Anatomy Of Change

2011-05-18T18:32:00.000-07:00

Sam has decided he wants to be a doctor when he grows up. His latest bedtime book of choice? The Human Body. Tonight we read about the skull and the skeleton. Non-scientific Mommy got to explain that the skull is like a bike helmet that protects your ball-of-Jello brain. I also demonstrated the structural usefulness of bones with a spare sock and the pen on Sam's Magnadoodle. I don't know if I'm confusing him more or not, but his desire to know all about the body is insatiable. He's already made a standing appointment with me for another anatomy lesson tomorrow night (when we'll read about digestion and pelvic bones).

It's funny, because when I was little, I said I wanted to be a doctor, too. The difference was, I just wanted to take care of sick people and make them feel better. I didn't care a whit about how the human body worked. That was of no interest to me whatsoever.

I can see myself in Sam, but at the same time, I'm well aware of the ways he diverges from me, too. In a lot of ways I feel like he is the turbo-charged version of me--the one whose detail-orientedness and persistence will propel him toward success I could never even dream of. And that makes me happy. I hope he's able to harness all his potential into something amazing.

It's hard for me to believe that, come Monday, his preschool days will be over. I don't think I have anything new to say on the subject without descending into cliches. Where has the time gone? My baby's all grown up. I can't believe he's so big. I feel so old.

I'll admit I'm feeling anxious for him. Every time he starts worrying about kindergarten, I can't help but worry along with him, even as I'm telling him it will be all be a wonderful adventure. He seems to already understand that expectations are about to be piled on him--make it or break it expectations--and that he's going to have to grow up fast.

I want to cry with him as he realizes that he's no longer small enough for Mommy's arms to shut the world out. And even though he still wants the comfort of a snuggle, he's getting too big to fit in my lap. I knew this day was going to come, but that doesn't make now any easier.

Kira stopped by today with a friend and her friend's three-month-old baby. He was so tiny and helpless. So new. So easy.

His mother sat feeding him in the quiet of the living room, her arms enveloping him, in one of those peaceful, protective moments of newborn motherhood that I still vaguely remember. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Sam and John were underfoot, loudly racing garbage trucks with Tyler and Zachary, while Kira and I threw their lunches together. The metaphor was not lost on me. Those quiet me-alone-with-my-baby moments are over. I live in a completely different world now. Seeing Sam and John in one room, the newborn in the other, it was hard to believe how much the boys had grown, and how far removed all of us were from those sweet, drowsy baby days.

I think Sam understands this. He's wondering how we got from there to here, too. And his newfound interest in the human body? Like me, he's trying to wrap his brain around that vast world that envelopes the heart.

Rainy Day Fun

2011-05-16T05:27:00.000-07:00

Our meteorologist is on my poo poo list at the moment. Seven straight days of rain when there is a brand new swing set in the backyard = Geneva Convention violation.

If you're stuck inside like I am, you might ~~be going batshit crazy~~ want a fun activity to entertain your kids. So as a public service, I will pass on a cool little edible craft that I found recently.

It's called Animal in a Pen--which is fitting, since that's what it feels like to be cooped inside with small children for a solid week.

I actually took these to the preschool last Friday for the kids' snack. (It was raining then, too.) They're easy and fun to assemble, and I think the kids probably enjoyed making them more than they did eating them.

Instructions:

1) Take one full size graham cracker.

2) Spread it with one of the following: icing, cream cheese, or peanut butter (I used green-food-coloring-tinted cream cheese, because, let's face it, who wants to give indoor-bound toddlers more sugar?)

3) Break up another graham cracker into quarters.

4) Arrange them into a pen shape. The icing/cream cheese/peanut butter will hold them up.

5) Arrange animal crackers in the pen. Or get wildly creative--have one knocking the pen down and escaping, standing on top of each other climbing out, re-create a scene from Animal Farm. The possibilities are truly endless.

6) Add green sprinkles for a grass effect. (Or, if you share my sick sense of humor, chocolate sprinkles... or raisins...)

7) Enjoy! (Or, pace around the house watching the Weather Channel, mumbling obscenities under your breath. Your choice...)

Have a great day, everyone!

For The Boys

2011-05-14T16:31:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week, the boys' swing set arrived. It's arrival coincided nicely with Tom's Friday off. Since his brother also had the day off (one of the benefits of working at the same company), he very ~~masochistically~~ sweetly volunteered to come help Tom with its assembly.

I'll state for the record now that I was sure it was going to be a major ordeal.

First of all, we bought the swing set online. And there were no reviews on it anywhere (because, trust me, I looked). And it was on sale. That is usually a very bad combination of factors--that sale price is usually for a reason. But we needed a swing set with 1) a small footprint, that was 2) rigid enough to sit on a (majorly) sloped yard, that 3) had a built-in clubhouse. The clubhouse-thing was criteria I attached to it, because the boys love playing restaurant and I thought a clubhouse with a play kitchen in it would keep them entertained for hours.

When I found the Backyard Discovery swing set, ironically named Saratoga (which is right up the road from here), and it had a small footprint, a clubhouse, and a covered picnic area, I was sold. Nothing we looked at online met our criteria quite as well, so we took a chance and hoped it wasn't too miserable to put together.

Tom and his brother are both mechanical engineers, so one way or the other, the swing set was getting put together. Whether or not it was accomplished without excessive swearing and a diatribe about crap lumber and cheap Chinese craftsmanship was another story...

Earlier this week, after the boys were in bed, Tom and I spent a couple of hours in the garage sorting all the wood pieces (Chinese cedar) and accounting for all the hardware. The pieces were all labeled alphabetically (in the tiniest print I've ever seen), so after everything was sorted into piles, I used sidewalk chalk to label each pile again-this time really big, so we could see everything at a glance. This saved us so much time, you have no idea. I would also suggest printing out a second copy of the instructions if two or more people are going to be working at a time. And designate someone the "Go-fer" (that was me). While Tom and his brother were working on one step, I could easily look up the next step, and then get the wood and hardware together than they were going to need. We started working around 2:30pm, took a dinner break, and finally stopped working for the night around 8:30 (when it got too dark to see).

As you can see, they made amazing progress.

This morning, we were back out there around 8:30am and finished around noon. We did not build or set up the monkey bar that comes with this swing set (it is supposed to hang over the little clubhouse door on the right) because we think that the boys (almost 3 and 5 respectively) aren't quite old enough yet to safely hang (or fall) from so high up. We'll probably put it up in a year or two, but for now we didn't think we needed it, and the swing set is perfectly stable without it.

Here's the finished product:

Here is the little attached picnic table. We elected to leave out the green window panes on this window to create a pass through so the boys could send "food" to their "customers".

Here are some pictures from a variety of angles:

View of the side and the clubhouse door.

Playing restaurant.

Side view, looking into the clubhouse. Picnic table is on the left.

Another view of the clubhouse.

The boys got to enjoy their swing set for about an hour, and then it started to rain. More rain is predicted for tomorrow. We were lucky to get finished when we did.

Tom (an engineer, remember, and therefore exceedingly picky about these sorts of things) was quite pleased with the swing set on the whole. His only complaints were that some of the directions could've been clearer, and that when he built the clubhouse, the instructions seemed to indicate that the boards should be mounted flush, and he ended up having to re-do the pieces with small spaces between them because they didn't actually fit flush after all.

The swing set is pretty small, and definitely isn't designed to support an adult's weight, so I have a feeling the boys will outgrow it more quickly than some of the bigger sets, but a bigger set wouldn't have fit in our yard anyway, so it's a moot point.

I know it's going to get a lot of use this summer.

I've Been Published!

2011-05-11T05:25:00.000-07:00

Two of my stories are included in Beyond the Diaper Bag, an anthology about motherhood written by women from around the world. 100% off the proceeds are donated to The Mommies Network, a national non-profit charity devoted to helping mothers in their communities.

It is available for purchase through this link.

Mother's Day (A Time To Grow)

2011-05-10T09:57:00.000-07:00

In the Northeast, it's customary to start planting your garden on (or after) Mother's Day, and since I'm not a patient person in the best of times, I wanted to get my garden started as soon as possible. When Tom asked me how I wanted to spend the weekend, I told him that all I really wanted to do was plant a garden, but that would necessitate him making me a raised bed to start it in.

Our yard is really small, mostly shady, and since it's perched on top of a hill, it slopes badly. We had had the "where to put the garden" discussion several times, and I just couldn't bear to give up any more of the backyard than I already had (soon it will be mostly taken up by a large swing set). When we moved into the house, there was already a bed built next to the house on the sloping part of the yard. In it, were two (very) neglected raspberry vines and a whole lot of weeds. Tom and I considered digging up the raspberries and re purposing the bed, but I have a killer raspberry jam recipe, and have fantasies of growing a gigantic raspberry patch in that spot. So that idea was out.

While we were on our cruise, a storm blew through and knocked a piece of siding off the house. Last weekend, Tom and our neighbor Joe climbed up on the roof to fix it, and we ended up spending more time on the hilly, unusable side of the house than we ever had before. We realized that 1) the spot got full sun, 2) it wasn't likely to ever be used for anything else, 3) was protected from trampling by boys because it was outside the fence, and 4) if a garden was grown there, it would save Tom from having to mow a substantial amount of that very unpleasant hill.

Things had come together...

On Saturday, Tom sketched out a plan, went to Lowe's, and whipped me up this raised bed. It never ceases to amaze me what he is capable of.

Meanwhile, I attacked the forlorn and overgrown raspberry patch, clearing it entirely of weeds (until Tom dumped all the dirt/grass from the spot the raised bed sits on right on top of it--another project). At some point in the near future, I'm going to get some more raspberry plants and Tom plans to build a wood frame and wire support system that will hopefully get a patch to start growing.

On Sunday, we filled the raised bed with dirt and I planted the bed with lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, beans, and peas. I can't wait for everything to start to grow!

This is what the two beds look like right now.

It's nice to have a new start this spring, since it seems like a lot of things have come to an abrupt and traumatic end for us.

Today Sam's school gave the official word that they will be closing their doors forever after being in this community for 50+ years. It was a co-op preschool (a new concept for Tom and I) and we came to love the chance to hang out with Sam in his classroom. Sam had loved every minute he spent there, too. I credit its small, family environment for easing his transition to New York. The first several months of school, John wept bitterly every morning at drop off because he wanted to go there so badly. And he was so looking forward to getting to go there himself next year.

The last few days have been spent scrambling to find him a new preschool. And I know that sometimes endings make way for newer, better things to come along, but it feels very bittersweet to say that John's new preschool is going to be a much better experience (for me, anyway). The new school is not a co-op, so I will never be required to spend any time in the classroom. Also, this particular preschool is offering a 5 day 3-year-old program (and that is completely unheard of around here). I can see next year stretching out in front of me and I can imagine all the free time I will have to write, run errands, and work out while both boys are in school every day. But at the same time, I really can't be happy about it, because I will sincerely miss the relationships I have at the preschool we go to now.

I also miss Sammy every single day. The pain of that decision never goes away, even though our situation at home is much improved without the constant fear of getting bitten. I always loved having two dogs of very different temperaments: the dainty, homebody and the roll-in-the-dirt, bark-at-the-squirrel, ready-for-anything terrier's terrier. I was telling Tom that more than anything, I wish the boys could've seen him in his heyday, back when we lived in Ohio, and spent our weekends with him in Kentucky, entering him in the terrier trials. Having Sammy around was like parenting (the doggie equivalent of) a little leaguer. He gave us something to cheer for, a team of one we could belong to. Without him around, there's very little to root for.

I was hoping that me running the Freihofer 5K in June could fill that void a little, but the whole experience of training for this run has filled me with frustration and despair. First, there was the realization that Wii running was nothing like treadmill running, and that treadmill running was NOTHING like road running. Every time I've upped the amount of impact I've suffered for it.

I've had back and knee problems my entire life. The chiropractor is my saving grace. When I was little, I also wore orthotics in my shoes because my feet didn't absorb shock and would ache and cramp horribly at the end of the day. As I grew older, the orthotics trained my arches to curve, and my shock absorbing abilities improved, but were never 100%. When my podiatrist strongly cautioned me against dancing in toe shoes because of the permanent damage it would do to my already-uncooperative feet, I quit ballet because I just couldn't progress anymore. And now I'm starting to feel a similar sense of deja vous about the whole running thing too.

I desperately want to be a runner. I love the feeling of my body rhythmically pounding forward, the wind in my hair, the feeling of intense exercise pumping blood through my heart. What I don't love is the constant foot, calf, and knee pain I'm experiencing. The pain that lasts for days. That isn't a good pain. My chiropractor wondered aloud if I had arthritis and suggested that I get some x-rays done of my knees... I don't know why I'm having so many problems, but part of me wonders if I just need to throw in the towel, accept the limitations of my body, and stick to exercise that feels good--like spinning. Kira and Tom think I should just walk the 5K--but covering ground was never the point of doing this. I wanted to impress my husband and inspire my kids. I wanted to run jubilant through that finish line having run that entire course. It was all about doing the seemingly impossible, the seemingly unexpected. Short of a miracle and some strong painkillers, I know right now that it's not going to happen. I keep thinking tomorrow I'll power through the pain... except lately, I just can't seem to shake it off. The pain is really bad. Just admitting that makes me feel like a quitter and a loser. And then I feel despair all over again... because I can't just will my dreams into being anymore.

Cruise To Bermuda

2011-05-07T05:13:00.000-07:00

As promised, here are all the details of our trip to Bermuda. We had a fabulous time and it was great to get away by ourselves, even though Tom and I still spent an inordinate amount of time talking about the boys, wondering about the boys, taking pictures of things the boys would want to see (a Bermudan street sweeper, for example), looking for things to take back to the boys, as well as spending a small fortune to call home to talk to the boys. In our defense, we left them while they were sick--running fevers with bad coughs--and were worried that Sam might be developing an ear infection (he wasn't, thankfully).

I think as parents, you can try to get away, you can attempt to re-capture your kid-free days, and it's futile. Once you become a parent your whole world shifts and, without the kids around, you sort of don't know what to do with yourself.

I'm sure you're probably picturing Tom and I curled up in the fetal position in our stateroom wailing "We want our babies!" But it wasn't nearly that pathetic. We missed the boys, yes. But we took full advantage of our time away from them, too.

KAYAKING

Saturday afternoon, our ship (the Carnival Miracle) docked at King's Wharf--which is the furthest point from the rest of Bermuda imaginable. We immediately left the ship for our first excursion of the trip--kayaking at 9 Beaches. From the brochure advertising this trip, Tom and I imagined that we would be on placid water, sleepy little inlets or rivers or something. Surprise! This was an ocean kayaking trip, a tropical storm was thinking about forming to the south of us, the wind was so strong our guide joked that we would be on the first-ever para-kayaking excursion, and the water was so rough that we were paddling through 1-2 foot chop. It was definetely not what we expected--and probably more fun--in a man versus the sea kind of way.

We paddled out to see a shipwreck.

And explored some caves. That was kind of cozy. Paddle in the wrong direction and you can get your kayak wedged in pretty tight. I wouldn't have minded getting stuck in there though. It was beautiful to look down and see fish swimming beneath you, hear the waves lapping against the walls, and see fossils (yes, fossils!) imbedded in the coral.

Our guide pointed out the intriguing brain coral that grew underneath the water.

And took us past these beautiful houses at a now-closed Eco Park.

The amazing thing about these houses is that the walls are made of canvas. We parked the kayaks and went inside one and they were surprsingly warm. Plus, they had glass floors so you could look down and see fish swimming beneath you. Very cool. Apparently, the site will soon be turned into a condo complex, which is a shame, because I would much rather stay in a little canvas house on the water than in a condo any day. But maybe I'm the only one?

FISHING

We were actually in Bermuda on Easter Sunday, and since everything closes on Sundays in Bermuda anyway, we expected things to be really closed for Easter. We were pleasantly surprised to find out that there was a reef fishing excursion offered on Easter that hadn't been advertised on the Carnival website. Tom grew up fishing, and I have come to really enjoy it in the 10+ years we've been together. We also went on a fishing excursion once in Freeport and loved it, so we decided we really couldn't pass fishing up this time either.

We went out on the fishing boat with probably 30 other people and I was one of four women on the boat.

Tom's first catch was, shall I say, underwhelming...

This one had some scary teeth.

A silk snapper

But then bigger fish started biting.

Tom thought it was hilarious that I was baiting squid with my manicured nails, so he took this picture of me hand-modeling my fish hook.

(On a side note, that was the best damn manicure I have EVER had. I had them done at a Regal Nails inside the local Wal-mart, and my polish stood up to kayaking--scraping my fingers across the boat with every paddle--fishing and dried squid bits on my nails--salt water, and other general abuse. I was shocked they held up so well.)

In total, I'd say Tom and I both caught half a dozen fish a piece. And it was so relaxing just hanging out on the boat all day. It's definetely our preferred way to spend a vacation.

EXPLORING

Monday was our last day in Bermuda, and since Saturday and Sunday had been taken up with all day excursions at sea, we decided to do a little exploring on land. First thing in the morning, we took the ferry to Hamilton. It's a beautiful city and I'm jealous of anyone who lives there full-time.

Since we spent over $11 on a soda, a smoothie, and a croissant in Hamilton, we headed back to the ship for lunch. Afterwards, we went back out to explore the Maritime Museum at the Dockyard. Unfortunately, several of the exhibits were closed due to some rearranging/new planned exhibits so there wasn't that much to see. What they did have was very interesting, though. We saw a 14 foot sailboat that a pair of Bermudans sailed across the Atlantic in to NYC. Considering how rough our crossing was back to port--the thick, thick fog, the 30-40 mph wind, and the massive waves slamming into our (very big) cruise ship, that was quite a feat! Those guys were brave!

I'm glad neither Tom nor I are prone to seasickness because the trip across the Atlantic was not the placid little paddle we've always experienced going to the Caribbean. You also feel very alone and exposed sitting in the middle of the ocean, far, far from any dry land. Tom and I had a balcony, and I spent a good bit of our sea days sitting out there reflecting about what it must've been like for those who made the crossing in the 1600s--without the benefit of a lido deck buffet and all-you-can-stand bingo. I definetely want to go back to Bermuda (in a modern cruise ship). Next time, Tom and I will bring the boys with us.

Children Are Gifts That You Unwrap Slowly Over Time

2011-04-20T04:37:00.000-07:00

I was reading my friend's blog-- Mummy Mania--whose latest post is about her three daughters. How different they are and how she is always seeing a new side of them and learning more about their personalities. I wrote her a comment, and at the end, said, "One of the best parts of motherhood is that your children are gifts that you unwrap slowly over time." And then I thought to myself, That's a pretty profound thought, Brittany. You should write a blog about it.

Here it is.

I think you can tell a lot about your future child's personality in utero. I had intense, persistent morning sickness with Sam--as if he was intent on letting his presence be known. And Sam was a kicker, and an elbower, and a flip flopper. He was especially active at meal times--especially breakfast. During my last trimester, I'd start off every day with a big bowl of watermelon, which he apparently liked. If I ever dared to oversleep and he didn't get his watermelon fix when he wanted it, he would kick me awake and continue kicking me until the watermelon was forthcoming. That child was active and persistent from day one.

John, on the other hand, was much more sedate. My morning sickness (compared to the kind I had with Sam) could be characterized as half-hearted. John wasn't very active. He slept a lot. He was a snuggler. When we had a 3D/4D ultrasound at 30 weeks, he was cuddled up against the placenta. The ultrasound tech predicted he would be a blankie-lover, and he is. The world as we know it would come to an end without Green Blanket. He also likes to sleep against me with his feet wedged underneath me. This isn't much of a surprise, considering that in utero, he wedged himself so tightly underneath my rib cage that he was hard to extricate (even with a c-section).

As babies, Sam could scream and cry for hours at a time. John had short bursts of upset-edness and then it died out just as quickly as it began. Sam was needy (and hungry). John wasn't (and satisfied easily).

As toddlers, Sam is the adventurous one. The one who stands on his bean bag chairs so he can reach the garage door opener suspended from the wall, opens the garage door, gets his tricycle, and takes it for a ride down the street--by himself. The one for whom the word "No" doesn't represent an insurmountable obstacle, but, simply, a challenge to be overcome. John, on the other hand, is the homebody, who loves nothing more than lazy day snuggles on the couch. Who wakes up early in the morning and comes all the way upstairs to sleep for an hour or two between Mommy and Daddy.

Before they were ever born I could have predicted as much.

But even though I could've guessed at a lot of things, there are just as many more facets of their personalities that I never would've expected.

Sam loves words and language. He delights in hearing (and finding) rhyming words. He loves to sing and dance. He's empathetic, and loving. He's the emotional child, the one who gets his feelings hurt easily, the one with a gooey-marshmellowy center. When I was sick as a dog with the stomach flu, I woke up to find Sam in the bed with me, just sitting there, holding my hand.

For all his mellow qualities, what John lacks in persistence, he makes up for with volume. John has an angry scream that would rival the high-pitched wail of any Steven Tyler or Sebastian Bach anywhere. He is insatiably interested in mechanical and physical phenomena, which means a lot of things around the house get smooshed, thrown from tall heights, rammed into each other, and wrecked beyond all repair. For all his (mostly) quiet reserve, he is fearless when it comes to meeting new people and trying out new social situations. This is the child I sent home with a fellow co-op parent for the morning, a woman neither of us knew well (at the time), who went to a strange house with strange people and came home happy as a lark. This is the child who hides in plain sight in Sam's preschool classroom, who plays with older children so easily, no one notices he's there. This is also the kid who can defend himself, and has no qualms about pummeling his way out of a sticky situation.

And just when I think I have a handle on the boys' personalities, and can finally know what to suspect, they do something new to surprise me again.

As Sam comes within sight of 5, he's becoming more cautious, more patient. He'll sit and work quietly all afternoon on a puzzle.

John, who's mere weeks away from being 3, is gravitating toward more physical play and really enjoys his swim lessons.

Each day with them is a gift, and it's always a surprise.

Spring Cleaning

2011-04-17T04:42:00.000-07:00

It's the same story it's always been.... I haven't written a blog in awhile... I've been busy... blahblahblah.

I have lots of ideas stewing in my head at the moment, and am working on getting a little traction going on them. It's a slow and frustrating process, but I keep reminding myself that it is a process, and therefore, certain steps have to be followed.

So here's a little update on each of the different pieces:

1) The losing weight/excercising/running a 5K thing.

I haven't lost a pound in a couple of months, but I'm actually ok with that. I'm still adjusting to the way I look right now, and honestly, it sucks to not be able to fully socialize with people because I'm on a stringent diet. I needed a break from it. I'm maintaining what I've lost by sticking to reasonable portion sizes and am ok with that for the moment. However, I have noticed that whenever I eat wheat I feel general sluggishness and achy joints. So I'm trying to limit how much wheat I eat. Tom and I are leaving on our cruise on Thursday and while I plan to enjoy myself, I am (mostly) going to stick to the Spa Carnival menu (I will eat those divine fruit soups and no one's going to stop me. :-P) because while not losing weight is one thing, gaining it back is another.

I'm planning to use the cruise to really create some momentum on the running front. I have dramatically improved my ability to run outside in the last month--going from just a couple of yards, to slightly less than a mile, to a mile and a half. But that is far short of the 3K I'm going to need to be able to run come June 4th. I've observed that 1) the first mile is the killer. Like Kira says, after you get the first mile out, your body basically surrenders and says, "Oh. Fine. I guess we're really doing this." 2) Once I've broken through a barrier on the treadmill, my body quickly adaps itself to doing that distance outside--even though it hurts like a you-know-what.

I'm probably the worst candidate for running that there ever was. Bad knees and lower back and an unhappy pelvis from childbirth (nothing a chiropractor can't fix though--and thank God Tom got me those awesome prepaid visits for Christmas), my body is not exactly digging all that impact. But that's why I'm doing it. To prove that I can. And running is so totally against my nature, that every day I'm able to do any distance at all shocks and amazes me.

My plan for the cruise is to run first thing in the morning, and again before our late seating dinner at 8:15pm. I want to be able to run 2 miles a day at least by the time we leave the cruise ship on the 28th. If I can run more than that, even better.

2) The writing thing.

I'm still working in fits and starts on my novel. My kitchen calendar is covered with dialogue that has been popping into my head, and I've had a few sleepless nights where my characters kept me awake dicussing plot points with each other. I recently got myself an interesting book to read for research purposes: Authorized to Heal: Gender, Class, and the Transformation of Medicine in Appalachia, 1880-1930 by Sandra Barney. It was really helpful in understanding some of the dynamics I'm trying to write about. I was happy to see that some of those things I understood innately and was already writing about. And for those things that hadn't occurred to me, the book was invaluable in piecing together some plot points and characters that were hanging loose.

Besides the book, I've decided to kick my short story and poetry writing into higher gear, and start submitting my writing to more journals, anthologies, etc. Unfortunately, while I can write these sorts of things, I am very slow to find inspiration for them. So to that end, I've started checking out a daily photo prompt of the day and a random quote generator for some fresh ideas. I haven't written anything yet, but I am making notes, and letting the ideas percolate. Then when I have some time to fiddle around with my writing, I'll have something that I can go back to.

Lately, I've also been toying with the idea of becoming a writing tutor or teaching a creative writing class (or playwriting) through the local community continuing ed offerings. I'm still not sure how I could do that until the boys are both in school full-time, but the thought is there anyway.

3. Dollmaking

I'm frustrated that I have absolutely no income coming in. One of my friends suggested I start selling my dolls (or embroidery) on etsy. Of course, in order to do this, I'd have to make some dolls (or embroidery). I'm mulling about doing that too. Embroidery is time-consuming, but doll-making isn't so bad. I found a doll pattern to practice on and am in the process of making one. Like most things in my life, I always optimistically underestimate how easy it'll be to accomplish something. I haven't found time to cut all the pieces out yet, so this doesn't bode well. But we'll see how things go today. Hope always springs eternal.

It's doubtful I'll write another blog until we return from our cruise, but when I come home, I'll have a ton of new adventures to tell you all about.

I'm looking forward to that!

What's Next

2011-04-06T14:15:00.000-07:00

Today I spent the afternoon perusing various job search engines in anticipation of the looming federal government shut down. Not that I want to get a job (assuming there were jobs out there that fit my unusual work history), but because, depending on how long a government shut down lasts, Tom might end up furloughed and at home. Although he isn't a government employee in the strictest sense, his job is funded by the Department of Energy. No funding = no job. I'm having an anxiety attack just thinking about it.

Which is sad, because an alternative topic for the day could very well have been the absolutely gorgeous spring day we're having, the fact that the snow piles have been reduced to (very small) snow puddles, flowers are blooming, and I almost didn't need a coat today.

Hopefully our worst case scenario (me getting a job, going into hunker-down mode) won't end up playing out, but Tom and I share the philosophy that it's better to prepare for the apocalypse. Then any other outcome is always a pleasant surprise.

Regardless of what happens, Tom and I will be going on our (early 10th anniversary) cruise to Bermuda on the 21st. I'm beside myself at the prospect of 7 whole days without the boys. Thrilled that I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, for as long as I want. But at the same time, wracked with guilt that we're not bringing them along. But Tom and I need this. The last few years have been really stressful and it'll be fun to reconnect with the people we were before we became Mommy and Daddy.

I *think* we'll be leaving them at a good time. Sam is in a groove at school. His Kindergarten orientation and assessment will be over. John is making very good progress potty training. he had four accidents Monday, three yesterday, and two (so far) today. He's stayed dry both times he was at childcare in the gym (even though he was in a pull-up), so we won't be leaving during a time of great upheaval in anyone's life.

You can tell I've made a lifestyle change when one of the things I'm most looking forward to is the onboard gym, and getting to run on the treadmill at will. I'm hoping that by the time I get off the cruise ship, I can run two miles. I'm also looking forward to getting to kayak the island with Tom. I've never kayaked before, and by all accounts, kayaking in Bermuda is really cool. Even though I recently discovered that my indoor fitness is far superior to my outdoor fitness (4 miles on the wii=1 mile in real life), I'm excited to try out something new.

Getting Published

2011-04-05T10:42:00.000-07:00

I'm excited to announce that two of my short stories are going to be published in the upcoming anthology Beyond the Diaper Bag. It is a collection of humorous stories, inspirational moments and helpful tips from real moms. All proceeds will be donated to The Mommies Network--a national non-profit organization that helps and supports moms free of charge.

The anthology will be published sometime this spring. As soon as I know more details, I will share them with you.

Adventures in Potty Training

2011-04-04T05:02:00.000-07:00

If you've been wondering what I've been up to lately (and more to the point, why I'm not writing more blogs), it's because John and I have been working on potty training. I signed him and Sam up for the same summer camp at the Y, but John can't participate unless he's potty trained. I figured there was no time like the present to get started.

John was well on his way to getting trained--he was just making progress at a snail's pace--and I didn't have the patience for it anymore. He'd go sit on the potty when I asked him to, and would usually produce something. But he was very resistant to getting out of pull-ups, never knew whether he was wet or dry, and only occasionally went to the potty on his own. So I ordered Toilet Training in Less Than A Day, a book that has been around since the 1970s, and a doll that wets, as the authors, Azrin and Foxx, recommend. I hoped that if I used the techniques they suggested, John would make some important connections and start staying drier for longer.

We started on Friday, while Tom and Sam were at the preschool. At first we practiced with the doll, undressing her, giving her a bottle, watching her pee in her potty. Then we'd check her pants. Were they wet or dry? If they were dry, she (John) got a treat. When they were wet, we scolded her and made her practice going to the potty. Once John understood the drill, it was his turn to put on big boy pants and practice staying dry.

The thing that I like about this potty training technique is that when your child wets his pants, you make him stay in his wet pants, running drills to the potty from all over the house. You're supposed to do 10 drills where you say "Run to the potty fast! Pull down your pants fast! Sit down fast! Stand up fast! Pull up your pants fast!" But I'm lucky if John will do three before having a complete and total meltdown. Like I pointed out to Tom--the child hates to be wet. Being wet and running drills to the potty helps him to associate wet pants with extreme displeasure.

The book also makes your child responsible for their accidents. If they wet their pants and make a mess, they have to clean it up (while still wearing their wet pants). Then they have to put their own wet clothes in the laundry hamper and dress themselves. By the time John gets through all of that, he is euphoric at the prospect of dry pants.

I can't say he's 100% potty trained, but he's doing much, much better. The goal is to get your child to spontaneously go to the potty without prompting, and we're not there yet. But with prompting, he only has about four accidents a day--usually in the morning--and usually when the Backyardigans are on. I loathe the Backyardigans anyway. And the way John glues himself to the TV to the point that he disassociates himself with his bladder is just one more reason for my rabid hatred of that show.

Mornings are toughest for John. After several accidents first thing, he tends to stay dry the rest of the day.

I have high hopes that after a few weeks of this, he'll have the hang of it.

Stagnation

2011-03-22T04:31:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to have very good news to report at weigh-in time this week. I've gained about 6 lbs this last cycle, due to indiscriminate eating, a short celebratory burst when I thought spring had arrived (soft serve ice cream again! yeah!), and stress. Obviously, I know how I did it and I know how to lose it again. It's just frustrating to know that I screwed up, especially with our cruise to Bermuda 29 days away. Now's the time to be losing weight--not gaining it. Even though the thought of going back to cycles 1 and 2 and all that chicken makes me physically ill, I probably need to do it before the cruise to get myself back on track.

I wouldn't have thought that March would be the bleakest month of the year for me, but it definetely is. I'm no sun worshipper, but I long to be outside, in unbulky clothes, looking at grass, feeling the sun on my skin. I want to start running outside, which I'd actually managed to do twice, before the temps dropped back into the 30s and the snow returned. It was so depressing. You have no idea. (More depressing even than the realization that running 4+ miles on the wii translates to no more than 5 minutes sustained running in real time. My race is in early June--now I'm panicking--can I possibly be ready in time?) Snow is predicted again for tomorrow, with another storm is on the horizon for Thursday--which could mean more accumulation--and an end to the grass that was starting to re-emerge. After the winter we've had, it's enough to make me want to scream.

Being cooped up inside with the boys is also scream-worthy. John has recently started emitting these random high-pitched, ear-drum-piercing shrieks--for fun. And we're all at our limit for keeping our cabin fever contained. I have to tell the boys ninety-five thousand times a day to stop climbing up on/jumping on the furniture/throwing toys/screaming/hitting each other. I know they feel a million times more bored than I do. Tom and I are going to bite the bullet and buy them a cedar playset for the backyard, because they need to swing and climb and hang and jump and slide, and not on my nice leather furniture. Except, there's still a substantial pile of snow in the backyard and we can't build anything until it's gone. I'm not used to having to accomodate the weather into my plans--we could've built a swingset in the backyard at any point in the year in the Carolinas--and I do not handle stagnation well. It makes me sulky and short-tempered.

I also want a garden more than anything, but obviously can't do anything about that right now either. I'm also dealing with where to put the garden in the first place. The most ideal gardening spot in the yard will soon be shaded by the soon-to-be-installed play structure.

The only thing that does seem to be going well is our new post-Sammy life. I wasn't sure how life would be without him in the house, but I think his moods were affecting everyone here--especially Tuendi. She's like a new dog. She used to spend her days upstairs in our bedroom, hanging out with the cats. She'd done it for so many years that we just assumed the boys stressed her out and she was hiding from them. But since becoming an only-dog, she's downstairs hanging out with us almost all day now. She's become much more social in general, and doesn't seem to be upset by the boys' noise and activity at all. And while Sammy was still around, she "couldn't" jump onto the furniture on her own--and always begged to be picked up. But suddenly she can hop up onto things by herself--no problem. Maybe we were extraordinarily unobservant, but we never really factored in how her issues might be related to Sammy's aggression, too.

It's a relief to know that I made a good decision, even though I'll probably never feel good about making it.

I dreamed about Sammy the other morning, right before I woke up. I was laying on my stomach in the bed with my arms out like Superman. He was between them, resting his head on my shoulder. My nose was buried in his fur and I was scratching his back softly. We were both content to be together. But there was also a mutual feeling of sadness/resignation/apology in the moment. I feel like a bomb has just gone off in my heart--never having thought I would ever put a pet down in a situation like this--where I was so full of doubt and sadness about the decision. Outwardly, life has gone on, and things are saner and better, but there's a little burned spot in my heart where a little patch of sunshine used to live.

Here's a poem I wrote about Sammy. (It was published in South Carolina's Pettigru Review).

Sun Patch

A small square of light

In a dark room.

He sits neatly tucked,

All four paws inside.

His tail marks the boundary

Between light and shade.

Digiorno Pizza and Hoops House Party

2011-03-20T07:45:00.000-07:00

After the week I've had, I needed an excuse to get together with friends and have a great big party for absolutely no reason. A month or so ago, I was fortunate enough to be selected to host a Digiorno Pizza and Hoops House Party. All you have to do is check out the House Party website and apply to host any parties that interest you. If you're chosen, the manufacturer of whatever product is sponsoring the party sends you a party pack with tons of cool freebies. You invite your friends and share the product.

We eat a lot of frozen pizza at our house, and a pizza/basketball party sounded like a lot of fun to me (and low stress--with toddlers and their friends on the guest list, this is a HUGE consideration), so when I saw the upcoming Digiorno party, I applied to host it. I had to fill out an application and complete a long survey, but it was worth it. Digiorno sent us an awesome party pack to share with our friends:

-coupons for six free pizzas
-$4 off pizza coupons for our guests
-an over-the-door basketball hoop and basketball
-brackets to fill out for our "shoot out"
-a pizza cutter
-a spatula
-a basketball shaped potholder
-a basketball shaped oven timer
-bam bams for each guest

If you've never hosted a House Party before, I highly recommend it. We had a TON of fun last night.

The party was centered around some of Digiorno's newest products: Pizza and Wingz, Pizza and Breadsticks, and Pizza and (Tollhouse) Cookies. They come in one box and are prepared together in the oven. It was fun sampling all the different flavors. The pizza was delicious, as it always is. I really liked the boneless wings--the buffalo sauce was really spicy and tasted great. I never got to try the breadsticks or the cookies because they were scarfed up as soon as they came out of the oven, but from what I was told, they were delicious as well.

I did find the portions of the wings/breadsticks/cookies to be awfully small for a party-sized crowd (although they were perfect for a family of 4). The next time I have a party, I'll cook two pizzas/same sides at a time.

The great thing about making your own pizza is that it's always hot out of the oven. Check out my new spatula that Sarah's modeling! The kitchen timer is on the stovetop.

This is what happens when you tell your guests to look like this is the best party ever. They didn't have to try hard. LOL We really were having fun.

The only thing I was sad about was that I wasn't able to invite more friends. We've been so lucky in New York to have made so many good friends so soon. Since this party was designated for a certain date, our house is not exactly palatial, and our backyard is still snowy, there were limits to how many people could physically fit in the house (and how many children could safety play together in the playroom together without injury). But we had such a good time, that as soon as the weather warms up, we'll have another one. (I'm thinking southern food all the way--fried chicken, barbeque, and all the fixins'... who's in?)

They guys had fun watching basketball--even though no one was particularly interested in Richmond vs. Morehead State (Is this year's ACC playoff crazy or what?)

Tuendi really seemed to enjoy socializing with everybody, too.

After we ate, we played an exciting game of PIG in the kitchen for my last free pizza coupon. It got very exciting.

The boys were our cheerleaders/announcers/referees. The game came down to Tom and Kelly, my sister-in-law. Tom has some mad mini-basketball skills I'd never seen before and actually sunk three balls in a row, but he had to forfeit his free pizza coupon because he was the party host. He didn't like those rules... :-P

For dessert I made a trifle with butterscotch pudding, angel food cake, caramel sauce, whipped cream, almond slivers and bananas. Here's the basic recipe:

Make butterscotch pudding.
Break up angel food cake in small pieces.
Slice bananas.
Put angle food cake pieces in bowl (or cups for individual servings).
Pour pudding on top of cake.
Add sliced bananas.
Drizzle with caramel sauce.
Cover with cool whip or whipped cream.
Create another layer of angel food cake, pudding, bananas.
Cover with cool whip/whipped cream to sides of bowl/cup.
Drizzle with caramel and almond slivers.

It turned out really well, even though half the crowd at the house didn't like butterscotch, caramel, or bananas. I decided to make them because they were going to be orange--which went well with our basketball theme. And I had hoped to make some artsy caramel swirls on top resembling the outline of a basketball. That didn't work out at all as I'd intended. Caramel is runny and uncooperative. So then I just made basketball-esque caramel circles. That worked out only slightly better. I have many talents, but food artisan is not one of them.

We finished the night with a rollicking game of Apples to Apples, which has quickly become one of my favorite games ever.

I think everyone had a great time. I can't wait to do it again!

The 17 Day Diet--The 68th Day--A Progress Report

2011-03-10T04:42:00.000-08:00

This is what I looked like after cycle 3 ended 17 days ago on 2/21/11 with a weight of 165.6.

And this is what I look like today 3/10/11 at the end of my 4th 17 day cycle with a weight of 161.5 (BMI=28.63) for a loss of 4.1 lbs and a total loss of 21.5 lbs so far.

Just as a point of reference, this is what I looked like when I started the diet in January:

That's what 20 extra lbs looks like.

My measurements on 3/10/11:
Shoulders 17 in (-1 in / total of 2 in lost)
R bicep 12.75 in (-1 in / total of 1.5 in lost)
Chest 36.5 in (-.5 in / total of 6 in lost)
Waist (at belly button) 36 in (-.5 in / total of 5 in lost )
Abdomen 34.5 in (-0.5 in / total of 3.5 in lost)
Hips 41 in (- 0.5 in / total of 2 in lost)
Right thigh 21.5 in(- 1 in / total of 2.5 in lost)
Right calf 15.5 in (- 0.5 in / total of 1 in lost)

I am finally feeling a real difference in my body, and seeing a big difference in the way clothes fit. I went shopping (by myself! whoohoo!) last weekend and actually had a lot of fun trying clothes on. The sizes are smaller, for starters. And now it's not about finding clothes that disguise my body as much as possible, but finding those clothes that look great on me. Hello skinny jeans!

And while I wouldn't recommend having the stomach flu as a weight loss strategy, I was quite sick last Friday and lost two lbs, which I was able to keep off. It was nice to have some momentum again, since my weight loss stalled for a couple of weeks. Since then, I've been losing pretty steadily again.

I will admit to my fair share of emotional eating though and know I should stop having handfuls of m&ms every time I go in the kitchen. Things are just a little nervewracking for me right now. First my two year old had to go to the cardiologist for testing (he's fine) and then we came to the incredibly painful decision to put our dog to sleep tomorrow. I'm really, really sad about the whole situation--but we've been dealing with his aggression for more than 18 months already--consulted experts in Westie behavior, tried behavior modifcation, tried medicating him for pain, and he's still unpredictable and volatile. I love him with every fiber of my being, but he's clearly not in his right mind anymore.

In a wierd way, all this working out I've been doing has made me strong enough to face this inevitable outcome. I've been working through physical pain for a couple of months now, and I've learned how to shut my mind to the pain (physical and emotional) and just do what needs to be done. Yesterday, after I called the vet, I went to the gym and did a really strenuous body sculpting class. At times it was so hard I thought I would pass out, but I did it anyway. The old me would have stayed at home, crying, and drowing my sorrows in food, but I realize now that that's totally counterproductive. If I'm going to be in pain anyway, I might as well be in it at the gym. Tonight I'll do a spinning class.

My gym schedule is not as aggressive as I would like it to be. But I have found a good momentum, and get to the gym as often as I can sanely do so. Mondays and Wednesdays I body sculpt. Saturdays (or Thursday nights) I spin. Most other days I try to do a 30 minute wii run. I probably work out consistently 5 days a week now. I'm looking forward to the end of the snow so I can bring my workouts outdoors.

A Hard Decision

2011-03-08T15:30:00.000-08:00

I feel like I'm all doom and gloom lately, but I guess things are what they are. Generally speaking, I'm very happy and looking forward to spring, but we've got a hard decision to make before then.

Tom and I adopted Sammy (shown here with our cat Harley), our male westie, from a rescue group back in 2001, the summer before we got married. I already had Tuendi, grad school was ending, and I was afraid she'd be lonely without a buddy. I was on petfinder.com one day and found a little 5 month old Cairn Terrier in Atlanta and inquired about adopting him. The rescue group also had a Westie, but he was sick with a pancreatic disorder, and had been in and out of rescue twice already in his short 1.5 year life. I didn't really want to adopt a dog that required expensive medications for life, but in my email I added that my heart really went out to this dog, Sammy, because I had a lot of stomach issues too. (At the time, I was having a severe reaction to gluten and didn't know the reason.) The rescue coordinator wrote me back. The Cairn had been adopted, but Sammy, the Westie was still available if I was interested. I didn't want to be interested. But something about him wouldn't let me rest. I knew he was my dog. Tom thought I was categorically insane to adopt a dog that had medical issues, but I ignored him, and one Friday in June, Tuendi and I drove down to Cummings, Georgia to meet him.

It couldn't have been a less promising beginning. We met in the fenced yard of a vet's office and Sammy studiously ignored me, he ignored Tuendi, he ignored the fact that we had driven 2+hours to bring him home. Finally, exasperated, I got down at his level, looked him in the eye and said, "Look, I'll bring you home with me if you just give me some sign that you like me." He moved closer, but his two front paws on my knees, and looked me dead in the eyes. I had a new dog.

And this new dog was a wreck. Dangerously skinny, smelly, too weak to hold his head up. He'd just been diagnosed with EPI and hadn't been on his medication long and he was not healthy, or even close to healthy. My entire family, plus Tom, and possibly Tuendi, thought I'd lost my ever-loving mind, because frankly, he looked terminal.

And then a few weeks later, you couldn't see his ribs anymore. His eyes began to shine. He wagged his tail. Barked. His personality emerged--a very mischievious Scotsman--curmudgeonly, but loveably so. And a better westie you never saw in your life. He wanted to hunt and snapped his collar in half treeing a squirrel. We found him upside down in the dog food bag, helping himself to a snack. He was snuggly, and happy, and you couldn't tell he'd ever been sick at all.

We moved to Cincinnati, where Sammy staked out the long flower pots on our back deck. From there he surveyed the yard, and speedily ridded it of furry trespassers. We started driving him down to Kentucky, for the terrier trials. Even though he was competing against Jack Russell Terriers (and they are a turbo-charged variety of terrier), he was a force to be reckoned with when competing in flat racing and hurdles. He even won his division in the Barn Hunt (rat is placed in a tube, and hidden among bales of hay. Fastest time to the rat wins.). Tom and I spent one of our first anniversaries at Camp Dogwood (summer camp for humans and their dogs) and had a blast introducing Sammy to lure coursing, too. He was an incredible athelete, an amazing hunter. A Terrier with a capital T. We loved watching him have his doggy adventures and knew that if not for us, and rescue, he might not have survived to have them.

When we moved back to Greenville, Sammy again found a favorite perch in the backyard--this time on the picnic table under the swingset, and he spent many happy hours sitting outside, enjoying the sun. There weren't any terrier trials nearby, but we often took the dogs to the park, and up to Asheville for visits, and the dogs were happy. When Sam was born, the dogs had a bit of an existential crisis (but didn't we all?), but it was Sammy most of all, who loved romping in the backyard with Sam and a ball.

Then, a couple of years ago, right after John was born, Sammy became different.

I don't think the birth of the boys caused Sammy's personality change, but they no doubt exacerbated it. First he became crankier than usual, staying away from us as much as possible, wanting to spend all day outside. Then he became food aggressive. Jumping on the table and stealing anything in reach. He stole food from Tuendi. He stole food out of the boys' hands. He was constantly into the cats' food, and anything else he could find. One Thanksgiving, while locked in my grandmother's bedroom, he ate a month's worth of vitamins... And then he became aggressive. At first it was occassional thing--he'd have an off day and be extra snappish. Then he was snappish all the time. And then snappish turned into snarling, growling, lunging, and biting.

We've been dealing with this a long time now. I thought maybe he was out of sorts about our move to NY and would snap out of it, but since we've moved to NY, it's only gotten worse. He bites. He bites us. He bites the boys. He bites their friends. He's a small dog with a small mouth, so he hasn't broken skin or caused a serious injury, but it's an unpredictable liability.

I've taken him to the vet, who agrees with me that he's not an inherently viscious dog, and is probably getting age related pain (he's 11 now). The vet prescribed a steroid that worked great for about a week and then it didn't work at all. So I called the vet, and he prescribed a narcotic, to be given in conjunction with the steroid. Sammy was great for a few days, but slowly, incidiously, the aggression has returned. He growls visciously in his sleep. This morning, John was 10 feet away from him, turned toward Sammy, Sammy started growling, and chased John away from us--and not in a playful, friendly way.

I never thought this day would come, but I think Sammy needs to be put down. The thought of it absolutely breaks my heart. I don't even want to think about life without him--or the him he used to be. And ordinarily, I would consider rehoming him, but he's sick, and he's in pain, and I don't think he has much of a quality of life anymore, regardless of who he lives with. Tom and I have been talking about what to do with him for months now, and just can't bring ourselves to make the final decision, but I think it's ultimately the decision that we're going to have to make--sooner or later--before someone gets seriously hurt.

Those of you who know Sammy, know that we love him like our own children, and this decision is very, very painful for us. I'm still not sure how I'll live with myself afterwards. I think about how quiet the house will be without him and just want to cry.

But it's time to say goodbye...

Setbacks

2011-03-04T05:39:00.000-08:00

This has been a week full of setbacks.

First the motherhood ones:

I haven't written anything on here about John's recent fainting episodes, because in all honesty, I just wanted to put the first one out of my mind and never think of it again. After the second, I sought help, and things were just a whirlwind and I never found the time... But back to the beginning...

A month or so ago, Tom and I and the boys were all sitting in our respective chairs at the dinner table. Everything was totally normal. Then John gave a little yelp and toppled off his chair. He hit the ground with a thud, but didn't cry or make any noise at all, actually. I jumped up and ran to him and he was completely unconscious, limp, unresponsive, but was breathing and had good color. I picked him up and took him to the couch and he came to shortly thereafter. We asked him his name, to count fingers, to walk around the room. He seemed fine. We thought he might have lost consciousness due to the blow on the head, but didn't take him to the ER because he seemed fine. We just watched him for signs of concussion--vomiting, headache, crying, etc. And there was none of that. So we moved on with our lilfe.

Then last Thursday, the boys and I were upstairs. I was sitting on the bed, writing or surfing the internet--I can't remember--and the boys were chasing each other around the room, wrestling, jumping on each other, laughing their heads off and having a great time. It ended with John laying on his stomach with Sam sitting on his back riding him like a horse. Both boys thought this was hilarious until Sam came down too hard and John started to cry. Sam got off him and John walked over to me, doing a silent cry. I pulled him up on the bed to cuddle and he went limp as a dishrag, curled into the fetal position, eyes rolled back in his head, all the color in his face blached out, and his lips started turning blue. When I tried to lay him down, he seemed to have a small seizure (but I didn't panic because it would be an involuntary muscle spasm like the kind I've had many, many times myself--more about this later). I was more worried about his blue lips. I could tell he was breathing, so I didn't know what was going on, and my mind was racing with all sorts of possibilities, like a severed spinal chord or who knows what. I waited for him to come to for what seemed like forever, but was probably less than a minute, and called 911. It took about 5 rings for the operator to answer, and I was in the process of giving her a detailed account of what happened when John finally came to. I would say he was out for at least 2 minutes (which is an eternity when you're a freaked out mother). By the time the paramedics arrived, John was fine. Alert, seemingly back to normal. While I was down letting the paramedics in the house, he hopped off the bed and was looking out the window with Sam at the paramedics' truck and asking us why it didn't make noise like an ambulance. Since his vitals were good, they let me drive him myself to the ER, and after leaving us in a room alone for two hours where John got into all kind of typical two-year-old mischief, the doctor on call prounounced him fine and didn't order any further testing, the general opinion being that he'd either hit his head and had a small concussion, or had the wind knocked out of him. (I didn't mention the prior incident because it didn't seem somehow relevent at the time--although I did mention family history, which was roundly dismissed by everybody.)* I was told to take him to the pediatrician in the next couple of days.

*I have "suffered" (although it's hard to suffer from something when you're unconscious) from vasovagal syncope since childhood. Vasovagal syncope is a common type of fainting disorder resulting from an abnormal circulatory reflex. The heart pumps more forcefully and the blood vessels relax, but the heart rate does not compensate fast enough to maintain blood flow (from WebMD.com). . So I faint. A lot.The things that trigger my fainting episodes are completely arbitrary and out of my control. I passed out during the pushing phase of labor with Sam, but made it through my wide-awake c-section without a twinge. I've broken my pinkie toe twice without going out, but once passed out when I scraped my heel on a brick. I have lots and lots of exciting stories about Brittany's Adventures in LaLa Land. These are just the tip of the iceberg.

Also vasovagal syncope tends to run in families. I've had it since childhood, and now my mom is also starting to have "spells". And Tom also has a propensity for fainting whenever needles are involved. Plus, according to a couple of phlebotomists I've talked, to it also affects fairer skinned people most often (and mine and John's skin is off-the-charts fair). So if John is a fainter, he's just following his genetic destiny.

Yesterday I took John to the pediatrician and told him about John's two fainting episodes, figuring that as soon as I started talking about family history the doctor would confirm that yes, John had vasovagal syncope too and we could all go on with our lives.

I would get to spend the rest of my morning shopping with Kira and then today, I'd take John to swim lessons while Tom went to school with Sam and acted as helping parent.

But no.

This morning John has an appointment with a pediatric cardiologist, because the pediatrician wants to rule out some more serious cardiac issues that can cause fainting in children. He scared me a lilttle bit asking about family history of sudden death or cardiac issues in children (no and no), giving John an EKG right there in the office, and then telling me, flat out, "I DO NOT like what I'm hearing from you." He feels like John's fainting episodes were largely unprovoked and based on his previous issues with heart rate in utero, isn't ruling out the possibility of some kind of underlying issue.

I'm happy to have good medical care available to us, I just wish we didn't have to use it so often.

To complicate things, this morning I woke up sick as a dog, and I'm writing this all between absolutely gut twisting stomach cramps, chills, the sensation I might pass out (anyone surprised?), throwing up, and the general feeling of wanting someone to put me out of my misery. I'm spending the day in bed, Tom had to take both boys to the cardiologist (Sam insisted on going) and I had to get a substitute in the classroom. What a crappy day all the way around.

In the middle of writhing around in the bed, the cardiologist called. He'd heard Tom's side of the story, but since I was the only witness to the second episode, he called me personally to hear what had happened. I described the whole thing, and mentioned that John had what looked like a seizure, but since I pass out (frequently) and am always told that I look the same way (and that it's really involuntary muscle spasms) I didn't fixate on that. Then the doctor asked me about my medical history--Did I see a cardiologist for my condition? (No) Had I ever had an EKG? (Yes-in the ER--mid faint even--and it was totally normal) Any family history of sudden death? (No) How many times had I passed out in my life? (More than 20, for sure.) What were my triggers? (You name it, it's probably triggered one.)

After talking to me, he said they'd ruled out any of the serious causes of his fainting, and it was his opinion that little John has inherited a hybrid type of vasovagal syncope--inheriting my propensity for fainting at the drop of a hat, and Tom's not-breathing-then-passing out version (you know, just to make life interesting for everyone...).

I'm very happy that it's not a serious condition. But I really feel for John, because it is a lifelong condition, and will be a potentially embarrassing one--especially for an active little boy. When I was in middle school, I was playing basketball, ran into another kid, got whiplash, which triggered a succession of faints. The first one I fell off a stone wall onto the basketball court, the next was in the grass next to wall in front of my entire class, and then, for good measure, I passed out again on my teacher (I sat up too quickly. I know now to get down and stay down). It effected my ability to do sports and be physically active because a fainting spell could be triggered by practically anything. Vasovagal syncope is worse up to adolescence and then tapers off, but I still have an episode every year or so. I always have to warn everybody I spend any time with at all, "Oh, by the way, I may suddenly lose consciousness and look like I'm having a seizure while I'm with you. It's nothing. Ignore it. And DO NOT call 911 no matter how scary it looks unless I've actually fallen and suffered a head injury. I will come to. I will be fine." This is a fun conversation to have with new people, as you might imagine.

I try to keep a sense of humor about it, but I would not wish this condition on my child. Hopefully we can work with him and I can teach him some of the techniques I've learned over the years. For example, I no longer pass out suring blood draws or injections, and made it through an epidural and a spinal block, because many years ago, a phlebotomist told me to say the alphabet outloud as I'm being stuck. It seems to override the incorrect circulatory reflex, keeping me conscious.

I also know how I feel when I'm about to go out (my face feels tingly, the rooms gets dark, and I feel like I'm whoosing down an out-of-control elevator). I usually have just enough time to tell whoever I'm with that I'm going to pass out and sit. And then it's lights out for Brittany until I wake up in a strange position on the ground, with people saying my name in freaked out voices.

Since my mom never passed out until after I started, she couldn't give me a head's up about any of this. But not so for John. I've been there, done that, bought the souvenir t-shirt, and the mouse ears.

I'll try to get him through this without too much grief.

AWOL

2011-03-01T18:39:00.000-08:00

Ok guys, I'm sick of writing daily menus and posting little blurbs about every nuance of my workouts. Therefore, I assume you are too. (If you're not, please let me know.) I will continue to post updates and pictures of my progress every 17 days, but I really think it's time to refocus my energies on something more exciting (ie. my writing), which is the point of this blog, after all.

This past weekend, Tom took the boys to his parents' house, which gave me two days to write in peace. It was the best gift he could've given me because I made substantial progress on some of my thornier writing projects.

1) I finally figured out how to fix How Home Improvement Saved My Marriage. It had point-of-view issues, tone issues, and plot issues but I am now on the road to correcting them. Once this book is finally finished, I'll start work on its sequel, How Book Improvement Saved My Sanity. LOL I fixed issues with the beginning (the first nine chapters look pretty good), made a disasterous mess of the middle, but love my final chapter (and the ephiphany I had about it that made it even better). I also managed to write out an outline, so for the first time, I have a game plan in place. I think a reasonable goal is to say I'll write/rewrite one chaper per weekend. Hopefully, by summer, I can call this novel finished again.

2) I finished reworking (and submitted) two stories for an anthology on parenthood. I'm going to be cautiously optimistic and will let you know if either one of the pieces are selected for publication.

3) I am still mulling over Untitled Appalachian Novel. Compared to Home Improvement, which is a light, fluffy read, Appalachian feels like my breakout novel--my magnum opus, if you will. I have the bare bones down, and now I need to go flesh things out, add subplots, more description, etc. Part of that is going to require research, the other part is going to require stamina. I'll be working on this novel pretty irregularly for a while--at least until the fall when both boys will (finally!) be in school. Although, to my everlasting joy, I found our that our YMCA has a summer day camp for 3 and 4 year olds all summer long (both boys would be together, so no tears!). I plan to sign them up for three weeks--one in June, one in July, and one in August--so that I'll have some time to work on my book(s).

Just like the whole exercising/dieting thing, it's time to quit making excuses for why no writing is getting done around here and get busy.

A Short Intermission

2011-02-28T04:43:00.000-08:00

This past weekend, Tom took the boys to his parents' house and gave me the entire weekend to myself to write. I don't know what kind of crazy masochism has me wanting to revisit How Home Improvement Saved My Marriage, but I've taken it back out of storage and am working on it again. I'm not sure it's ever going to be a full-length novel. I'll be very surprised if I can make the word count. However, it is just about the perfect length for an e-reader. So maybe that's the direction I'll head with it... I just don't know yet.

While Tom and the boys were gone, I pretty much sat on my butt and wrote, non-stop, for two days. With the exception of a spin class on Saturday morning, and a 30 minute wii run on Sunday morning, I pretty much didn't move. And I didn't stick to my diet either. My neighbor had me over for dinner, and cooked an AMAZING lemon pasta with arugala and shrimp. There was delicious rosemary bread on the table, free-flowing wine, and strawberry shortcake for dessert. The scale says I've gained two pounds, but I really don't care. My soul was nourished, as corny as it sounds, from all that writing, all that glorious food, and all that friendship. And I think it's healthy to do exactly what you want from time to time.

Unfortunately, I've been eating what I want a little too much lately, and I've been gaining and losing the same two pounds for over two weeks now. So it's time to buckle down and power through. Now that our company is gone, school break is over, my writing weekend is finished, and we're back to our old schedule, it's going to be a lot easier to get my head back in the game.

I don't have anything going on this week, so my goal is to get my anthology submissions sent out, those two pounds back off, and make more progress on Home Improvement. It sounds easy enough today. We'll see how I feel about it come Friday...

The 17 Day Diet--Days 54-56

2011-02-25T17:50:00.000-08:00

2/23/11

I feel like my progress on the diet stalled over the course of this last week. On the one hand, it's really frustrating, but on the other, I'm just happy that I didn't gain weight while my mom was here. When I'm around my family, I tend to eat compulsively. So there's a small success right there... Here's what I ate:

Breakfast
english muffin with cherry preserves
Lunch
mini ravioli w/ marinara sauce
small piece of baguette
5 M&Ms
coffee w/ creamer and Splenda
Dinner
chicken salad @ Moe's w/ black beans, cheese, veggies, and vinegrette dressing

(I seem to have completely stopped eating fruit and vegetables during the day... Not good. Must make a more concerted effort to get those in. I may not be eating a lot of calories, but this isn't a healthy menu by anyone's standards. :-( )

2/24/11

I'm making a concerted effort to eat better today... and yet there's still half a loaf of french bread in the fridge that's calling my name. Damn you, yummy, crusty, gluten-y goodness. I used to have major problems with gluten, but now I can eat it in moderation without any ill effects. I feel like I've been overdoing it lately though because my stomach is feeling a little cranky. And I'm falling into old habits where I eat a lot of bread and none of the healthy starches. I really need to eat more sweet potatoes and beans, etc since they are more nutritious than bread. Bread is just so good... Once the last of these English muffins are eaten, I'm going to start eating yogurt parfaits for breakfast instead. I've come to really enjoy them at McDonalds.

Breakfast
english muffin w/ 1 T crunchy peanut butter
sliced apple
Lunch
piece of baguette dipped in marinara sauce
1/2 grapefruit
cup diet cocoa
Dinner
caprese salad
sugar free jello mousse
popcorn
piece of chocolate

2/25/11

Last night after I got the boys to bed, I did a wii run (4.3 mi--a new record!). According to the wii, I lost another 1.1 lbs this morning (down to 164--the 150s are in sight!). My tightest jeans have gotten so loose that without a whole lot of effort, I can pull them straight down off my hips. I'm going to have to go shopping for new clothes soon. And I was hoping that the weather would warm up enough that I'd be able to start running outside, but we're having another snowstorm today. A big, heavy snow, that is supposed to turn into sleet and freezing rain later in the day. Sounds lovely, doesn't it? I do have a question for my runner friends though--I want to buy actual running clothes and don't know what to get. Any suggestions?

Breakfast
peanut butter and jelly english muffin
1/2 grapefruit
coffee w/ creamer
Lunch
sweet potato fries
1/2 grapefruit
burger w/ 1/2 slice provalone and marinara sauce
small piece of chocolate
hand full of dried cereal
Dinner
spaghetti w/ meat sauce (yeah, that's three starches today, but I'd just shoveled a foot of snow off the driveway...)
snow cream (snow, sugar, vanilla, and milk)
one chocolate dipped pretzel (it's a big driveway... LOL)*

*I'm sure I'll pay for this tomorrow, but sometimes you just have to find a way to enjoy what would otherwise be a long, nasty, snowy winter...

The 17 Day Diet--Days 51-53

2011-02-23T04:38:00.000-08:00

2/20/11

Today we went to Long Island (4 loooooong hours away) to visit my Aunt Rose (my grandmother's sister-in-law). I hadn't seen her since January of 2000 and she turned 100 this year, so time was a'wastin'. This was a nightmarish day from the boys' perspective, as well as from the perspective of my diet. I didn't exercise, I didn't drink much water, and I ate out every meal. You can see from what I ate that I tried really hard to make good choices, knowing that the fat content of the foods I was getting, as well as the portion sizes, were pretty much out of my control. I only gained a few ounces when I got on the wii this morning, so all things considered, the sticking-to-the-diet portion of the program went pretty well. It's nice to know that I have a feel now for what is good to eat versus what is not.

Breakfast
applesauce
fruit and yogurt parfait
Lunch
1/2 portion fugi apple chicken salad at Panera
1/2 smokehouse turkey sandwich at Panera
1 small cookie @ aunt's house
Dinner
chicken wrap w/ lettuce, tomato, and chipotle mayo (about 320 calories)

2/21/11

There was still half a ruben waiting for me in the fridge from our trip to Saratoga (Circus Cafe was AWESOME, by the way) so I had it and my mom's leftover sweet potato fries for breakfast. I figured the liklihood of burning it all off by the end of the day would be better if I got an early start. LOL I wanted to do a wii run, but that never happened. I feel sort of stupid running in front of the tv while everyone is sitting around the living room staring at me.

Breakfast
1/2 ruben
sweet potato fries
Lunch
caprese salad w/ balsamic vinegrette
pureed fruit in a tube (50 cal)
diet cocoa
coffee w/ creamer and Truvia
Dinner
chicken tagine (with dried apricots, agave nector, and almond slivers)
broccoli

2/22/11

By the end of the day, I was totally exhausted. I left the house at quarter to 9, went to Lowes and bought 100 lbs of ice melt and an ice scraper, went by H&R Block to pick up our taxes, then to the chiropractor's. When I got home, I put ice melt on the sidewalks, and then drove everybody to Ballston Spa (where we ate lunch at McDonalds), then on to Saratoga (again) to go to the Children's Museum. After a couple of hours there, I drove all the way to Clifton Park so mom could take the boys to a toy store, then drove us all the way back to Scotia. After we got home, mom decided to make Toll House chocolate chip cookies, and I wanted one desperately, so I did a 30 minute wii run and broke my best record for distance (whoohoo!). Then my stepdad and I went outside and chipped ice off the sidewalk, and then I shoveled piles of broken ice off the sidewalk (ouch!). I'm pretty sure I burned off those 2 cookies I ate and then some... I ate a lot of extra carbs today, but I did major manual labor. We'll see what the scale says about that in a couple of days.

Breakfast
english muffin w/ 1 t peanut butter and 1t cherry preserves
Lunch
chipotle bbq grilled chicken snack wrap
fruit and yogurt parfait (no granola)
Snack
2 chocolate chip cookies
Dinner
Greek chicken, lemon, and rice soup
two small pieces baguette

The 17 Day Diet --The 51st Day--A Progress Report

2011-02-21T04:59:00.000-08:00

This is what I looked like after cycle 2 ended 17 days ago on 2/4/11 with a weight of 169.1 and a BMI of 29.96 ( overweight).

And this is what I look like today (2/21/11) at the end of cycle 3 with a weight of 165.6 (-3.5 lbs and 17.4 lbs total since 1/1/11)
.

My measurements on 2/21/11:
Shoulders 18 in (-0 in / total of 1 in lost)
R bicep 13 in (-0.5 in / total of 1 in lost)
Chest 37 in (-1 in / total of 5 in lost)
Waist (at belly button) 36.5 in (-.5 in / total of 4.5 in lost )
Abdomen 34.5 in (-0.5 in / total of 3.5 in lost)
Hips 41.5 in (- 0.5 in / total of 1.5 in lost)
Right thigh 22..5 in(- 0.5 in / total of .51 in lost)
Right calf 15.5 in (- 0.5 in / total of 1 in lost)

I'm really pleased with my progress, but also a little frustrated because I know I could have lost even more weight if life hadn't intervened. With my mom and stepdad visiting, we've eaten out with them, and Tom and I have had the opportunity to get out of the house by ourselves (more eating out). Yesterday we took a day trip to Long Island to visit a 100 year old great aunt (craziness--8 hours round trip just getting there and back), so we ate out every meal, and since there are only so many rest areas on I-87, I wasn't exactly chugging the water. And the scale reflects this fact...

The good news is that I'm no longer stumbling blindly along, eating and drinking mindlessly and not understanding why I'm not getting the results I want. In the last two months (Really? It's only been two months?) I've figured out the mystery to losing weight: 1) exercise often, 2) drink water often, 3)
stick to appropriate portion sizes, and 4) limit carbs to two a day if you want to lose weight. When I do that, the results are good. When I don't, my weight loss stalls. It's my choice which result I get. Sometimes it's easier to do these things than others, but as long as I make the best choices I can, as often as I can, the end result goes my way in the long run.

The 17 Day Diet -- Days 48-50

2011-02-21T03:51:00.000-08:00

2/17/11

Haven't had a very eventful day. Went to the airport to pick up my mom and stepdad, and since then we've just been hanging around the house playing with Kira's wii. Now my mom wants one, too. :-) I did a 30 minute wii run and have a roast cooking in the crockpot, but beyond that, the key word for the day is *lazy*.

Breakfast
english muffin w/ peanut butter
banana
Lunch
spaghetti with sauce (no meat)
light yogurt
one square of chocolate
small square of mozzarella cheese
Dinner
1 slice thin crust white pizza (my roast in the crockpot didn't cook enough by dinnertime and I had to improvise)
sliced apple

2/18/11

I gained about half a pound today, but considering that I had three starches yesterday, I'm not that surprised. The roast from yesterday is cooked now and ready to be microwaved, so I'll redeem myself today.

Breakfast
english muffin w/ cherry preserves
banana
coffee w/creamer and Truvia
Lunch
chicken gyro with pita, tomato, onion, and tziki sauce
salad with oil and vinegar
couple bites of coleslaw
Dinner
beef roast w/ carrots and broccoli
sugar free jello pudding

2/19/11

Today is Scotia's Winterfest in Collins Park and we were planning to go. Unfortunately, the winds are really high today, so we went to Saratoga instead. I like Saratoga because it's a gorgeous little city with great architecture. Since I knew I'd be eating up there, I saved my starches for lunch. I like the ability to eat like a normal person (with a little planning) on this diet. My weight isn't doing anything at the moment. I'm up .2 from where I was on Wednesday. Spinning this morning will whip me into shape.

Breakfast
2 hard boiled eggs
apple
light yogurt
Lunch
half a rueben sandwich
tossed salad w/ balsamic vinegrette
Dinner
corned beef, cabbage, carrots, small serving of mashed potatoes

The 17 Day Diet --Days 45-47

2011-02-17T02:53:00.000-08:00

2/14/11
This morning I didn't get to the gym because I was at the preschool doing a Valentine's Day craft with the kids. After the kids were finished with the craft (at 10am), I came home and did a 30 min wii run (best time yet) and according to the wii, I ran 3.8 miles. Which I needed, because I had another .4 lb weight gain. It's 53 degrees today (whoohoo! heatwave!) and everything is thawing like crazy. I can see grass peeking at me from the backyard and that makes me sooo happy! I'm really looking forward to spring when I can go for runs outdoors. Sadly, temps will be back in the low thirties for the rest of the week, so we're not there yet.
Breakfast
english muffin w/cherry preserves
1/2 grapefruit
Lunch
1/2 grapefruit
light yogurt
piece of french toast w/ splenda
Snack
sugar free Jello pudding
small piece of chocolate (hey! It's Valentine's Day!)
Dinner
chicken tikka masala
roasted broccoli

2/15/11

When I started cycle 3 of this diet, I was really worried that the added carbs in my diet were going to stall my weight loss, but so far that hasn't been the case. After exercising and drinking maybe 40oz of water yesterday, I'd lost another 0.9 lbs this morning. Three more pounds to go and I will have lost a grand total of 20 lbs. I think I can manage that before March. Yeah! I got another wii run in. Not as fast as yesterday, but it said I ran 3.7 miles. I'm sure this is a grossly inflated number, but at least I was moving.

Breakfast
english muffin w/ peanut butter
light yogurt
Lunch
mini pierogies
light yogurt
asparagus
coffee with cream
Snack
sugar free Jello pudding
spoonful of peaut butter
sliced tomatoes with balsamic vinegarette
Dinner
I was absorbed in my writing and forgot to eat

2/16/11

Another loss of 1.1 lbs this morning (I'm down to 165! Yee-ha!)! I'm hoping it will all stay off, but some of that weight loss probably has to do with the emptiness of my stomach without any dinner in it. Today I have power sculpting at the gym (my muscles are already sore just thinking about it) and then I have to come home and clean like the wind because my mom and step-father are coming to visit us for a week. And then go grocery shopping. I have a feeling this week will be a whirlwind. I spent a couple of hours today menu planning, too, because on top of my diet, my mom has a nightshade allergy, and can't eat anything made from tomatoes, peppers, potatoes, etc. That certainly complicates things. I think I settled on Greek chicken lemon rice soup (which I've been craving), a pot roast minus the potatoes, a Morroccan chicken/apricot/almond tagine, and a white/veggie pizza. I bought a bunch of chicken that I can cook various other ways too. I'm going to be eating heavier meals than I normally do, and at night, and of all the weeks to do it, the gym is on winter break and there won't be any classes next week. The wii is going to be in heavy rotation next week. It's been my saving grace. Thanks Kira for letting me borrow it!

Breakfast
english muffin with 1t peanut butter
Lunch
spaghetti with sauce (no meat)
sugar free jello
light yogurt
Snack
applesauce
Dinner
small prepackage cobb salad
rotisserie chicken