Boxed Up Memories

A cherished box, under the tree for only just a moment.

I have a small shoebox which I bring out every Christmas. It is full of very old ornaments from my grandmother's tree which I inherited in 2005. I have never seen these ornaments, except for on my grandmother's Christmas tree. I imagine inside are glass ornaments delicately wrapped in tissue, some probably too fragile to handle. Possibly, quite possibly there are some broken ones in there. It has gone through our move in 2006 and is moved out of my Christmas decoration box on a yearly basis, so it would be hard to imagine the at least one of the ornaments not making it.

Which is one of the reasons I don't want to open it. I don't want to see the breakage, the finality of it. I want to imagine my grandmother's hands wrapping each one, knowing she was the last to touch it. I want to see my Grandma, touch her, be with her, but all I have are ornaments...well, really, a box of ornaments.

I reason with myself that it would be foolish to put these cherished ornaments on my Christmas tree and put them in harm's way. (Have you met my two year-old Luke?) In fact, opening the box would probably open up some feelings I would rather push aside. Especially at Christmas. I miss her to my core, she was taken before I was ready. She would love to see these wonderful children of mine running around full of life. I have to believe a part of her is running around with them, though this is more of a pleading thought rather than an expression of faith.

So another year passes without opening the box. The lovely brown and white of a decades-old Montgomery Ward shoebox will hold many hopes for me for another year.

One day...maybe when I am a grandmother.

Merry Christmas!

Baby Momma

As I mentioned before, last week was the babies' birthday. We celebrated with Phil and Joyce, Steve's parents, with some cake and presents. It was a great time!

Phil and Joyce were thoughtful enough to get Luke a big truck, to which he says, "Big truck!" each time he plays with it. His vocabulary is really expanding with new words every week. So fun!

Kate's language is coming a little slower, so when they gave her a baby doll she didn't have a name for it. So she kept calling it "Momma," which I thought was super-cute because it's what she calls me.

Unfortunately the baby's name is now "Baby Momma." Yes, the derogatory name for unwed mothers is now what my daughter calls her baby.

Nice.

Kate with Baby Momma.

Difficult to Admit

Last weekend was Kate and Luke's second birthday. My feelings about this are very complex. While I am excited they are growing older and more independent, a part of me begins to realize I am losing my identity. For the last two years, plus a couple of months after we found out we were expecting twins, I have been consumed with them. From the bed rest and pre-twin anxiety to the sleepless nights and juggling two babies plus three children, motherhood has been all-consuming.

I used to be very proud of my organization and crafty projects, but now am proud of lesser accomplishments such as daily showers and the occasional clean sheets. When I was teaching, my colleagues would tease me about always having "my ducks in a row." I even was presented a wonderful figurine of ducks by my principal at a staff meeting, her version of Teacher of the Year. As our family has multiplied, the craftiness, cleanliness, and organization has dwindled and I've been okay with this. Really.

But now the babies are getting older and it hard to admit I'm starting to feel a little lost. Gone are my excuses to order pizza for dinner, to ignore the dog hair on the carpet and the piles of laundry in the baskets. My expectations are higher now which is where the problem lies.

I can't be defined by the cleanliness of my house, I need more than that. Motherhood, of course, is the most loved and most important job I have, but I need some things which define me, excite me and make me happy. For the past two years, I have lost my sense of self and now is the time to find it again.

This may be a long journey.

Special Visitor

We have had special visitor to our home the last couple of days. She's really cute and doesn't say much, but we love her. The boys decided to take a couple of pictures, this is the best one:

Actually we don't know if she's a boy or a girl but praying mantises have a special place in my heart. I just think they are really cool. Not that I would EVER touch one, I think the girl chromosomes I have would prevent that from happening. I also just recently learned from my

10 year-old entomologist they have stingers, so I am DEFINITELY staying away!

This summer, Steve and I were out on a date at a lovely restaurant with a great outdoor patio. (If you live here, you know where this is!) We should have been having great child-free conversations, but I couldn't keep my eyes off this baby praying mantis which kept hanging around.

Plus I hear they are good luck, and who doesn't need some extra luck! I hope she sticks around for a while!

A Primer in Primer

Saturday the dry wall guys were finished with their work. They did a beautiful job, but the flying dust down there was suffocating. It is coming from every crack and crevasse in the house, making our fall stinkbug invasion seem like only occasional visitors. I have been fighting the dust on every surface, including on dishes in cabinets. It stinks, but I need to keep reminding myself of the lovely basement we will soon have.

As a side note, I must tell you something my dear husband told me one night last week. We were talking about the workers and he said how impressed he was by how clean they had kept everything. My hazy recollection has me saying something equally complimentary, as I adjusted my heating pad on my back for all my aches and pains. If he only knew...

On Saturday the fun really began and my friend Traci and I trekked out to Fairfax to visit my brother, who conveniently works at a paint store and graciously offered me his 50% discount. By taking advantage, we saved a bundle (thanks Andy) and also sprung for a paint sprayer to make the job easier. I have no idea how many gallons of paint and primer we bought, but it filled up the back of our Volvo station wagon!

Steve broke out the sprayer on Sunday morning, viewing the informational DVD and practicing the arm motions. When he felt he had mastered all spraying techniques, he got started. After about 2 1/2 hours, he had sputtered and spewed out 5 gallons of paint and was back at the paint store for 7 more gallons to finish the job. Here's what it looks like now:

The double closet of the den/bedroom.

Views of the rec room area.

Still my favorite part of the project, the bottom of the stairs and pantry.

So, so happy to be at this point!

Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of what Steve looked like when he was done because it was truly funny! His clothes and skin were covered, and his lips and eye lashes were covered in white. Honestly he looked frost-bitten!

So that night as he adjusted the heating pad on his back, moaning and groaning about his soreness, I felt it was only proper to say, "Gee, that sprayer really does a great job!"

Drywall hangers were here yesterday. You would have known by the silly grin I had plastered (pun intended) on my face throughout the day. It was a happy day, a day I never thought would get here when piles upon piles of wood were put in my car's space in the garage. That was a year and a half ago! I still don't have my car in the garage, but it's getting closer!

When they arrived in the morning, they were quiet. They were moving the drywall sheets, joint compound buckets, and other materials down to the basement from our driveway. When we left to take Kyle to the doctor it was quiet, quiet.

Not so much so when we returned. Lots of banging and drilling and banging and drilling. Thankfully we had gotten back in enough time for the babies to get used to the sounds before their naps and putting them down was fine. In fact, the noises might have kept them sleeping late which was really helpful as you will understand in a minute.

I was getting ready to go pick up the big boys at the bus stop when one of the guys comes up and says in broken English, "Ummm...Miss...pipe...water". I run down to find a gushing pipe they had hit with one of the screws and a ten foot wide puddle which keeps flowing. I don't know what to do. These guys don't speak English and my Spanish is much more food oriented. "Necesito una margarita" would have come in handy later, but right now I wanted to scream, "Holy Cats boys get some towels, stop up the hole, how could you have done this? AAAAHHHH!"

I call my husband who is trying to understand where the hole in the pipe is while he is talking the the contractor who hired these guys to do the work. In the meantime I'm running across the street trying to find my neighbor, Jose, to do some translating for me. He comes over and I'm pretty ticked off so I do some things I probably shouldn't have done like stomp my feet and sigh a lot. After direction from Steve and the contractor, Jose tells the guys we will take care of the water leak and they should just get back to work. I managed to turn off the water main line and the pipe settles down.

The big boys arrive home and are all over the task of sweeping and vacuuming up the water. They are filthy, but most of the water is up. Crisis averted.

We went out to eat because you can't work without water and Steve went to Home Depot to find some parts to fix it. When he got home, he realized he wasn't going to be able to fix it and called our plumber who had done the original work. He said there was a water main for the basement, so we were able to have water in the late evening.

As a side note, the kids really enjoyed the fact they couldn't take a shower, even though it wasn't a typical shower day to begin with, and they had to brush their teeth with bottled water. I think they spend three times longer brushing their teeth with the bottled water than under the faucet. There was also talk of carrying water from the rain barrel to flush a toilet which needed flushing which got great excitement too! Novel things...

Today everything is fine. I still feel bad for being so grumpy with these guys to whom I can't say I'm sorry to. After the crisis was over I said, "Lo siento mucho" (I'm very sorry), but i'm not sure if they understood the issue.

Tomorrow is another day. The drywallers will be here in the morning mudding and pasting, getting us to our goal. Jose has given me some lines to use, although I'm glad we distinguished the difference between the words bitch and slut in Spanish! I think "me culpa" will suit just fine!

In the meantime, "Necisito una margarita, por favor!"

And Again!

As I'm catching up with my blogs, the big kids are at school and the babies are napping. I go to meet the school bus and guess what I find?

Another lost tooth! Three in a week! Sheesh!

If the kid keeps it up, we are going to have to start feeding him jello and soup!

And the tooth fairy is going to be broke!

There really is nothing more tortuous than looking at pictures of houses under construction. Really, you can't figure out what is what, no sense of where rooms are in relation to others rooms. Just sticks nailed together. Like this:

So consider this your fair warning as I dive into the newest project at our home, basement finishing! And by newest, I mean we have been at this since the babies were three months-old (they are about to turn two next month). Because, of course, the best time to start a ginormous project such as finishing your basement is when you have newborn twins. Right?

In fairness, this is something we need. Although our house is large, so is our family. Five children need their space and, face it, another TV. So Steve has been toiling many weekends and sometimes after work just to get to this point.

He has done the framing and the electrical with minimal help from his Dad (Hi Phil!). The HVAC work was done in a weekend with help from my friend's husband (Hi Andi!). The plumbing we hired out (Hi plumber guy!). Steve has really done a fantastic job, I am very proud of him!

So tomorrow is the big day! The drywall people come and we actually get some walls! From there we will have a lot more work to do, but I feel like we are finally getting somewhere!

When we are finished, we will have a work room with utility sink, guest room, full bath, bar/pool table area, play/TV area, and my favorite part:

A small room with large pantry!

In the meantime, I am looking for all ideas on how to keep drywall dust down in the rest of the house. Suggestions welcome! I can't wait to share with you the finished product!

Full Bath

Den/Guest Room with two closets

TV/Play Area with bar area in the background

OOOPS! He Did It Again!

As you may have seen in the last post, Lance had a gray tooth on the top. We honestly have no idea how it happened. We came home from a vacation two summers ago and POOF! A gray tooth. Although it was not pretty to look at, the dentist said it was nothing to worry about.

Until it started to bleed. On Thursday, Lance came downstairs after brushing his teeth and it was bleeding. It had gotten looser and also more gray recently, but this was worrisome. I called the dentist right away and scheduled an appointment for later that morning.

When we arrived at the office, the dentist said there was an infection in the tooth and it needed to be P-U-L-L-E-D. I had warned Lance about this, but he wasn't worried because he had just lost his bottom tooth the week before. So he was all for it!

Meanwhile, I am struggling with the babies, trying to corral them into a corner as dental tools and buttons scream their names. "Luke, touch me!" "Kate, play with me!" "Luke, break me!" But this isn't a story about my pain and suffering, it's about Lance's.

But there was no pain and suffering. He rocked! He didn't flinch at all to the first round of novocaine shots and only once with the second, which was in the palette of the mouth and would have left me running from the room.

After the numbness was in full-effect, the doctor pulled the tooth with little effort. Lance was great and came home with another prize to put in his tooth pillow.

And this time he didn't lose it!

Just in time for Halloween, my Lance-O-Lantern!

Blessed

Lance just after he lost his first tooth.

I was laying in my bed very early (too early) this morning after being awoken by my fabulous five year-old. He had a nightmare about a "zombie booger" and quickly fell asleep after snuggling in. I tossed and turned trying to get comfortable with the new addition to our bed as my thoughts turned to how blessed our family is. It warms my heart. Lance sleeping soundly in bed with his mommy and daddy, the rest of the children snug in their beds, with filled tummies, good health and happiness is pretty much all I ask for as a mom.

Every day I make a promise to be a better mom, have more patience, don't yell, give my kids opportunities to be the best they can be. At the end of each day I aspire to be better, to be the mom my kids will look up to and learn from. The kind of mom they like to be with as well as the mom who sets boundaries they don't want to cross.

The adage these days is, "Given this economy..." and I know how fortunate we are. We are able to put food on the table and have a roof over our heads, but our family is much more than that. It is the unconditional love we show which makes us rich. To admit our mistakes, to respect one another and to express love and kindness. We aren't perfect, but we do the best we can every day.

In the end, I may never know if I succeeded. It is my children and their children who will decide if I was a good mom and I will probably be long gone. Really it doesn't matter if I ever know. As long as I am the soft place to fall when my kids need me, whether it be for a "zombie booger" nightmare or a broken heart, I know I am doing something right.

He kind of does look a zombie booger!

Visit to DC

We went to DC today to visit some of the sights. The weather was perfect, a blue sky with a couple of poofy clouds here and there. We had no sports scheduled, so we decided to take advantage of our proximity to our Nation's Capital and explore.

We had first decided to go to the zoo, but changed our minds as we went over the Potomac River into town to go to the memorials and museums. We found a parking spot and walked to the Jefferson Memorial. Trent has really been into history, especially the Presidents, so he wanted to check it out.

Steve and some of the kids in front of his hero "Thomas Jefferson."

Observation #1: The monuments are not very accessible or at least not very intuitive. Getting around with our double stroller was not easy, but at least with two people we could lift the stroller over a couple of steps. People with wheelchairs are probably frustrated on a daily basis.

Then the food frenzy was on. Everybody was hungry!

Observation #2: Unless you want a hot dog or pretzel, you are pretty much screwed for food. It's a good thing everything tastes good with peanut M&M's, right Kyle???

We ate lunch in front of the fountain at the American History museum. Luke is particularly fascinated with shooting water, we hope this translates into a quick potty training! It was particularly lovely.

After lunch, we walked to the Natural History museum as we touted Mammoths, the Hope Diamond newly removed from her necklace setting, the insect zoo with hissing cockroaches, and mummies.

Observation #3: My memory is not as good as it once was.

We saw the mammoth, after much searching because we came in the back way. I remember being stunned by its enormous tusks and awestruck by its gigantic girth. The boys were not impressed. We went and saw the Hope diamond, after warning my kids that I remembered not being too impressed with it. After competing with a bunch of blue-haired old ladies, they finally got a glimpse. Not too impressed. Then we went to the insect zoo, but first we had to walk through the skeleton area. That was probably where we spent the most time and where Lance would have spent more time. Kyle was anxious to get to the insects and Trent was laying on the floor saying he was tired. We needed to move!

Lance's pictures from the skeleton exhibit.

Observation #4: If you have a lot of people in your group, you probably aren't going to get a chance to see all you want to see.

We got to the Insect Zoo and saw some cool metamorphosis exhibits with real butterflies and moths, a cool active bee hive, but no hissing cockroaches. At least not the way I remembered, where the kids would actually touch them and other insects like millipedes. They may have been in a different spot but we didn't see them. Kyle was a little disappointed.

As we were leaving, the babies were really starting to loose it. The boys and Steve had movie tickets starting in 45 minutes, so I decided I would take the babies while they looked around a little more until there movie started. They were both screaming in their stroller as I tried to get out of this place.

Observation #5: The Natural History Museum is very hard to navigate without using stairs than the Jefferson Memorial.

I weaved through the maze of artifacts, sculptures and tourists. One even said to me, "After hearing your babies, my husband just said we should have another." It's exactly what Steve would say to me so I said, "You go for one more [one finger held up] and you get this [finger pointing to the twins]." She laughed, I kept trying to find the flipping exit!

Observation #6: Most people will get out of the way for a woman pushing a stroller of screaming babies. To them I give them a smile and a "thank you" and keep trucking. Some will not. To them I give them an "excuse me" and then promptly run over their toes, feet, and ankles!

I got outside and the babies snuggled in for a nap. I walked around the National Mall, from the museum to the Capitol, up to the Washington Monument, and back to the museum. The last time I was walking the mall I was with my friend Kathleen. There was a protest, but I don't think we ever figured out what it was for. They were bare-chested or wearing pink and singing protest songs, so all we could come with was "Women with Breast Cancer Against the War in Iraq".

Today the protests on the Capitol steps were about equal rights for gay Americans. It's actually a cause I agree with so I was interested in hearing what they said. I had the pleasure of listening to Cynthia Nixon from "Sex and the City" speak and some teens who had won some awards for their awesome speeches on equality.

Observation #7: There were some rather handsome well-dressed men at this protests, most with their arm around another man or holding another man's hand. It seems to be true for all of my single friends, the good ones are either taken or gay. Sorry Sisters!

Observation #8: I'm really glad Trent wasn't around to see all I saw today. He would have had asked a lot of questions I don't think I'm prepared to answer yet.

After the babies fell asleep and I had gotten close to where we had planned to meet, I had about 15 minutes to sit and relax until I had to meet Steve and the boys. I decided to sit under an oak tree with my babies and my phone, clean up some of the pictures, take a few, and text a couple of people. I then closed my eyes for about 10 minutes. It was lovely and relaxing!

Luke and Kate snuggled up next to each other.

I got a lot of comments on how cute they looked.

We met up again and trekked back to the car. It was quite a hike and everyone did pretty well. Lance has the shortest legs so he needs a bit of a pass, I gave him a piggyback for a little bit at the end, but everyone did great.

On our way home we went to Red Robin. I hadn't been there in 11 or 12 years and certainly not with kids...boy have we been missing out! The food was good, the entertainment for the kids was good, and unending fries??? Why hadn't we done this sooner? It will probably be our go-to place from now on.

Observation #9: We had such a good time today I think I may venture out by myself tomorrow to the zoo with the kids. Steve has to work so it won't be as much fun, but we'll try!

Something's Missing

The one with the peanut-phobia and his friend Oliver.

My almost 6 year-old son Lance doesn't like peanuts. He will tell you he is allergic, just to make sure you won't feed them to him. People are really afraid of peanut allergies! He's not allergic, just doesn't like them. We feed him jelly sandwiches instead of PB&J's, M&M's instead of Reese's Pieces and everything is just fine.

But I feel like he's missing something. I think I realized it today when he sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" like this:

Take me out to the ballgame,

Take me out to the crowd.

Buy me some carrots and Apple Jacks...

hmmm...

Needing a Pick Me Up

I've been a little down recently.

Sure, I've been sick and wanted nothing more than to plunk my rear end on the sofa with a pint of Ben and Jerry's (to ease the sore throat, of course) while watching reruns of Oprah or Grey's or even Game Show Network. But I don't think that's it.

Sure, the babies have been sick too needing much more time and attention than is humanly possible by one person, much less five or six. But I don't think that's it.

Sure, my husband has been working day and night and weekends too. But I don't think that's it.

Sure, my older boys come home from school like whirling dervishes, throwing all loose articles off them as they move, full of energy and empty of food. But I don't think that's it.

I think I realized the problem was bigger than these things when my husband came home this week. I met him on the porch and melted into his arms, sobbing. I was sick, tired and beaten-down, feeling like something had to give.

It was the next day I realized my problem. This is the first school year I haven't had to get out of the house. I don't have a preschooler, so no daily runs back and forth to school. I am stuck at home at 11:30 every day for my half-day kindergartner to get on the bus so that seriously limits where I can go out. I have been stuck in my house and this makes me crazy!

This may not seem to be a big deal, but we were on the run a lot this summer! Super busy, no time to rest. Go, go, go! It was exhausting, but I loved it!

Now I'm home. Stuck. No adult interaction. No places to go. Nothing, nada., glitch.

Realizing my problem, I am determined to pick up my boot straps and be proactive in finding things to do. I will have play dates and invite friends over for coffee and take the babies to classes.

Wish me luck! (Wanna have coffee?)

(sic)

Totally knew it was 2009, not 2010 as posted in my Ode to Summer 2010. Just seeing who was paying attention.

(Thanks for catching my mistake Andi!)

Ode to Summer 2010

Good bye my dear summer of 2010,

I wish we could start all over again.

The visits and parties, and the trips in the car,

With friends, with family who are unfortunately a bit too far.

We had our lessons, oh yes it's true,

Tutoring and karate, piano and guitar too.

These things we enjoyed every week,

To learn new passions of which we seek.

The one thing we enjoyed above all the rest,

Was the one thing we love the best.

The splashing good times at the pool,

Was sometimes the only thing to keep us cool.

And so I bid you a fond departing wave,

This glorious summer I wish to save.

School is starting for another year,

It's sad I know, I may shed a tear.

My children are moving ahead each year,

The memories of this summer I hold so dear.

For soon they will be all grown,

And be out living on their own.

So goodbye dear old 2010,

And although we will never see you again.

We look forward to 2011 summer,

Which may just be even funner!

Summertime Boredom

There are some games which are made to be played by yourself.  Of course there's Solitaire, but if you get some creativity juices going you could play Memory,  Uno, or even Dominoes solo.  And when you're five years-old and you're really bored with no one to play with, despite the plethora of children in our house, your creative juices start flowing!  So you pick up a game and start to play by your self.

Battleship.

He doesn't pick up the electronic bastardization of the original game, where programming the game is about as frustrating as finding that last two-hit ship.  Oh no!  My creative five year-old picks up the the game in which you try to find your opponent's ships by guessing until you score.  Except, it's not guessing when you play by yourself.

Player 1: B - 5

Player 2: Hit!

Player 2: C - 8

Player 1: Hit!

You get the drift.  No challenge, no strategy, just a preoccupation of one's time.

I guess we both win.

Desperate Times Take Desperate Measures

After church today I made a bet with Steve.  The bet was that if the babies took a nap until 4:00 (three hours), I would have every Sunday afternoon off for the rest of eternity.  This was a long shot, I know, but worth trying!  This was after a desperate attempt to flee my chaotic house turned into another day on the job.

So we get home.  We feed the babies and change their diapers, there was nothing standing in the way of a fabulous nap.  They had gotten up early, played in the nursery at church, and were quite tired.  The big boys were occupied with other things (ahem) and were sure to be quiet.  If any day was the day for along nap, today was it!

They slept for about an hour before I heard one screaming baby and then another.  Desperate to save my endless supply of solo Sunday afternoons, I ran up to console everyone.

Now let me tell you about the hardest part about having twins.  It's the inability for me to give all my love, all my attention, all my hugs and kisses to my crying baby when they are both upset.  A crying baby deserves compassion, not a mom trying to juggle another crying baby with a good chance of being dropped on their head.  I do the best I can when this happens, usually reserving my hugs for the baby who is crying the hardest while rubbing the other's hair.  I hate it, and thankfully for us all it happens infrequently.

But I digress....the babies are both crying and I am desperate to get them both to sleep!

I whisk them both out of their beds and do my best to settle them down.  Thankfully I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve.  Kate is a big fan of having the back of her head rubbed, and Luke enjoys a rhythmic tap on the rear or having his back scratched.  Miraculously it works, the babies are asleep!  Unfortunately, they are on top of me and I can't move.  I begin to contemplate the different maneuvers I can do in order to move but I can't think of anything which won't wake up both babies.  And that is not an option.

So I sit there...and wait.

The babies snore and wiggle while I sweat from all the body heat.  I'm not comfortable so there is no sleeping on my part.  I think to myself, "I can do this for two more hours!"

It didn't happen.  An hour later, Steve found me and the babies woke up.

Maybe next week I'll get lucky.  It only takes one Sunday afternoon!

PS Did you notice how many times I wrote the word "desperate"?  Can you tell it's the middle of summer?

A Clog of Blogs

It's summer time!  A time to be carefree and whimsical!  School's out, so let's stay up late and catch as many fire flies as we can.  Let's wait for the ice cream truck for I hear it around the corner.  The sweet smell of a combination of sunscreen and bug spray...how I adore it!

Unfortunately, summer usually is not like this around my house.  I have five children and therefore we spend most of our time in the car, transporting from one activity to another.  Here's an example of my plans for the day, number of minutes to drive the activity is in parentheses:

9:00 drop Trent off at lacrosse camp (30)

10:00 drop Kyle off at tutoring (15)

10:45 pick up Kyle's friend (5)

11:00 drop off Kyle's friend at tutoring and pick him up (15)

12:00 pick up Trent (30)

12:45 drop off wait Trent at guitar lessons (35)

1:15 pick up Trent at guitar lessons (just wait in the car)

1:45 drop off all big boys at karate (30)

3:00 pick up big boys from karate (15)

All of this while trying to keep the babies from their newest favorite activities, including flushing the toilet and dumping out the dog's food and water.  They will be full of energy from sitting in the car all that time.  Good times!

So please pardon my lack of blogs this summer, not that there isn't a lot to write about.  On the contrary, having everyone at home has led to some funny moments.  I'll leave you with this one which happened last night:

Steve got home last night and I suggested going out to dinner.  We packed everyone in the car and headed to a crab shack in the next town over.  We hadn't been there in a while and it was a nice night to just sit out side and get a little messy.  Unfortunately, it was closed.

Now this is the part where my city-girl still lives deep inside me.  I can not imagine going to a restaurant to find it closed!  Especially on a Monday night when I'm still trying to get back in the swing of the week.

Anyway.

So we turn around, en route to our go-to place, and talk about how great the crabs were. "Boy!  I couldn't eat another bite!"  "I'm so full!"  "No ice cream for me tonight, thanks!"  Blah, blah.

Trent pipes in with, "That was the best food I've ever eaten."  Pause.  "I'm being psychotic."

Steve and I turn towards each other and bust out laughing.  Trent says, "What's that word again?"

Sarcastic.

Yes, that's it.

Strange, Rare Thing

Something happened to me this week which has only happened to me once before in my entire life.  Experts tell parents to do it ALL the time, but we never heed their advice.  I've never done it, but know it should be done.  People who do it usually feel very weird about doing it. 

What is this thing?  Talking to parents about guns in their homes.

Twice in my life I've had parents ask me if we had guns in our house.  Each time I am shocked at the courage it took her to ask another me.  Not because I was personally offended, but because I was proud they had the moxie to ask.

We don't have guns in our house.  It's our personal decision.  We know people have them and we are proud to live in a country where that is your personal freedom.  The thing is that people don't talk about guns.  I'm not sure if it is because they are afraid of offending their friends or something else.  Of all of my friends I only know of one family who has a gun in their house, but I am sure there are many, many more.

Every year, children are tragically killed by gun accidents.  Most could have been prevented if parents did a better job of securing the guns.  I consider myself fortunate to not know someone who this has personally affected, but will I be able to say that throughout my life?  I certainly hope so.

We should talk to other parents about guns in houses for the safety of our children, but I'm not sure if it will matter.  Lots of research has been done that parents can talk until they are blue in the face about not playing with guns and children will still do it.  Which leaves it up to the parents to keep their guns safe.  It guess that's where it gets tricky and parents are afraid of offending one another.  What is the definition of a safe gun where children play?

When the mom of one of Lance's friends asked me about guns in our home in an email, I complimented her in person for being so courageous.  She apologized for being "over protective" and even said, "I know you're an Obama girl but I thought I'd ask."  In the conversation, I asked her what she would do if I said I did.  She hesitated for a moment and said she would have asked me if they were safely locked away.

Again, what is safe?

Ultimately it's a matter of comfort for me.  If I am comfortable with trusting the parents with the care of my children, then I should trust them with gun safety in their home.

Does that mean I shouldn't ask the question?  Probably not.  Does this mean I will ask the question? I will try.

This is not meant to be an anti-gun message, for I agree that guns have a place in this world.  I just think there should be a better dialogue between parents about this issue.

Before someone else gets hurt.

Another Lesson Learned

Victorious Kyle!

I take the events in my children's lives seriously.  I revel in their victories and ache in their defeats.  I live vicariously through my children, it's true.  I speak this more as a confession, but know I am in good company.  There are many things in my life I wish I had done differently or had the opportunity to do and so we work hard to expose our children to many things.

I realize today we have gone overboard.  We pushed Kyle to play lacrosse this spring, even though he told us he would much rather play baseball.  We reasoned he has good stick skills and we have good connections with Steve being on the Board.  We didn't think about Kyle.  We didn't think about his lack of aggression in an older age bracket and his sensitivity to failure.  We put him out there on the field with good stick skills, but no drive.  He didn't want to "take the guy out" and sure as heck didn't want to get "taken out."

So he took the path of least resistance, showing up for practices and games but no enthusiasm.  He got beat up by the opponents and by his teammates for being a pansy.  Sometimes he would say something to us and other times he wouldn't.  My heart ached as I watched this, my sweet little boy being bullied by those jerks!

Today it hit me why my I took it so personally, this was my fault.  Kyle didn't want to be out there, but he was trying to please us.  Kyle isn't an aggressive warmonger and that's okay.  Lacrosse may not be the sport for him, he will move on and find his niche.  He loves baseball and will do that in the fall.  He's starting karate and wants to try Cub Scouts.  He's not quitting, just changing.

As a parent, I need to let go a little of living through my children.  It's a hard lesson to learn and one I will need to be reminded of from time to time.  I will always encourage my children to do their best.  For their benefit, not mine.

Graduation Day!

Lance and his teacher on a nature field trip last week.

My little Lance graduated from preschool last night.  As we were driving to the event, I was telling Lance how lucky he was to get to wear a "motor board."  I mean, I have only gotten to wear one three times, when I was graduating from high school, college, and with my Master's degree.  So it's kinda a big deal.  (Actually this was a little bit of brain-wrenching, trying to make sure he didn't have a fit over wearing the hat.  You probably need to know Lance to understand that.)

I still can't understand why preschools do it...a graduation.  Ours was a little over the top with diplomas and singing.  At the end, they had a very cute slideshow of the graduates with their teachers and friends, all set to tear-jerking songs like "Over the Rainbow".  As I held one of my little babies in my lap, I wept.  Lost time.  Lost childhood.  Lost dad who wasn't here to enjoy it.  I held on to my baby tight and kissed her sweet head while watching pictures of the preschoolers enjoying themselves, grateful for my children and their happiness.

I guess that's why they do it, those silly over the top graduations, to make us realize how lucky we are.  Childhood is so special, and time really does fly.  Enjoy the moments and celebrate!  You're only a child once.

As I take a break from the endless chore of cleaning my house, I have begun to realize something.  It comes from my a line from my new Darius Rucker CD, though I'm not much of a country music fan, "it won't be like this for long."

We were supposed to have guests last night, which turned into a postponement until tonight.  We are having guests tomorrow as well.  Each of these events either have already or will turn me into a cleaning machine.  While it is not the most glamourous job, I suppose it is something I am good at.  I get a lot of practice.

So I will clean my house for our friends tonight and I will clean my house for our friends tomorrow.  Vacuum, mop, wipe and pick up, though not necessarily in that order.

How can we be so messy?

It's 8:58 on Monday morning.  I've been up for more than three hours and can only thank my dear friend and her lovely gift of german chocolate coffee for any remaining sanity.  The babies were both up before 6:00, Kate enjoying the wee hours of the morning a little before Luke, but both were up way too early for me!

By 8:00, the big boys were off to school, I had downed my umpteenth cup of joe, Lance was still asleep, the babies were ready for a nap, and I needed a shower (and a bit of peace and quiet).  8:45- babies sleeping, Sarah showered, more coffee....oops!  Forgot to wake Lance!  We are going to be REALLY late for his 9:00 start of school.

This used to bother me.  I hated being late and was annoyed when others were late.  It drove me crazy!  I thought it was one of the most disrespectful thing to have someone wasting their time waiting for you.  I still feel this way, really I do.  People shouldn't have to wait on me and I try really hard to be on time for most things.

Except when babies are sleeping.

I am a firm believer in the old adage to "let sleeping babies lie."  As a rule, it would just about take a natural disaster before I wake my babies.  This especially holds true if they are both sleeping.  Unfortunately this is such a rare occurrence I don't have to grapple with the decision often.

So, Miss Jackie and Miss Julia, some of my favorite teachers in the world...I'm really sorry for having you wait on me.  I appreciate all you do for my little boy every day as I know he can be challenging sometimes.  We'll be there as soon as we can.

As soon as the babies wake up!

Bountiful?

I am attempting my first vegetable garden this year.  I've always dreamed of a garden, ever since I would watch our neighbor in his backyard carefully tending to his crop with eventual armloads of veggies throughout the summer.  I have planned this garden and its contents for many years.  Finally we have a yard big enough to hold my garden and a family of kids who love to play in the dirt.  Let's till!

About six weeks ago, we planned the garden out.  We borrowed a tiller from a friend and Steve started her up.  The Steve/Tiller team fought and fought through inches of clay and rock, while the boys and I had the job of pulling out the rocks and grass. Despite being more interested in the worms we were disturbing, the boys were able to get many rocks out.  Here is a look of the pile:

There is one rock which took more teamwork than Steve/Tiller.  We had to call in the second-string pry bar and shovel team for a super-big one.  The boys think it looks like a step from an old house, I think it looks like a perfect stone to decorate and place in the garden.  Here it is:

After careful consideration, and a couple of chomps from our local bunny, we have a completed garden.  Well, almost completed.  I am still waiting for a delivery of strawberry plants and blueberry and raspberry bushes.  We've planted heirloom tomatoes, corn, zucchini, red peppers, broccoli (only because they look so awesome when planted), pumpkins, cabbage (a gift from Kyle), cukes, and yellow-fleshed watermelon.

It looks like an unassuming pile of dirt right now, I know.  It will be a miracle if it all makes it past the bunny, but I figure he's gotta eat too!  Come around mid-summer, fingers crossed there will be a bounty of veggies and fruits for us to share!

A Camaraderie of Multiples

I am a mom of multiples.  It's true, I do have twins.  However I don't think it makes me the foremost expert on multiples.  Recent news has made moms of multiples the talk of the town, so I suppose being a mom of multiples puts me...where?  I don't know.  Certainly not in the headlines and certainly not the talk over dinner, but somehow people have related me to these stories.  I am asked all the time, usually by strangers who see me with the babies, how I feel about the "Octo-Mom" or "Jon and Kate Plus Eight."

  

I am not a gossip girl.  I'm not into celebrities or gossip.  I read the paper in the morning to keep up to date with national and local news, politics, and my daily suduko.  I glance at the section informing me who was seen out in DC, but mainly so I know what places are hot to eat.  (Hello Georgia Browns!  Love those crab cakes!)  I don't really care about celebrities, as obvious by my last post and not knowing Naomi from Tyra, and certainly am not intrigued by stories with "shock-value".

But since you asked...  

Here's the thing that bothers me about these two stories in particular.  Octo-Mom and Jon and Kate have families, families with A LOT of children.  Their families are fragile, just as any one else's, but even more so because they are under public scrutiny.  Whether or not they put themselves in these predicaments doesn't really matter to me.  What matters is the integrity of their family, a safe and loving environment for the children.  I don't know if either of the parents in these families are giving the children all they can, but I have to believe they are doing the best they can.

I think I am a good mom.  I have my moments, but most of the time I am proud of what I do and how we are raising our children.  However, I can say for certain that I would not be able to hold up while under the public eye.  No one is perfect.  I do the best I can with what I've got.  I learn.  I move on.

Maybe these parents made some bad decisions.  Maybe they shouldn't have been seeking the spotlight so much.  Who knows?  Who cares?  What matters now is how the public reacts or doesn't react.  The families deserve better than being smeared all over the internet, the children deserve better.

But what do I know?  I'm just a mom of twins.

My friend Kathleen lives in Alabama.  It's far, much too far to see her very often, so it is always a treat when we plan to see each other.  This past weekend was one of those weekends and I had been counting down the months, weeks, days, and hours until I saw her.  We both were anticipating a wonderful weekend of relaxation, talking, drinking, and talking.  It was going to be fabulous!

And it was.  We relaxed and drank and shopped and talked and drank and talked and walked and shopped and talked and drank and ate and talked.  I came home completely refreshed, having learned a couple of things on the way:

• There are a lot of people in airports.  None of them look like Kathleen.
• Just because a person has braces, doesn't mean they don't look younger.  They certainly shouldn't ask if the "mother and daughter" are here for their pedicure either!
• You actually can walk out of a J. Crew store without buying anything.
• When your favorite pair of jeans is on sale, it means they don't have your size.
• Walking all over town doesn't seem that far when your mouth is moving too.
• Walking all over DC doesn't seem that far either when your mouth is moving.
• Breasts on women over the age of 25 look better covered.  Pasties should also not be attempted over this age.  (I was hoping to catch a glance of Barack Obama while at the White House, not elderly nudists.)
• People with medical emergencies sometimes just need CIA hats to cure them.
• Feather beds are a luxury, and some luxury hotels don't have them.
• Margaritas are not created equally.
• In person, I cannot tell the difference between Tyra Banks and Naomi Campbell.
• A TV can be hidden in a mirror.
• Hangovers are not my friend.  Thankfully neither was the ice bucket sitting next to me.
• Six dollar cups of coffee does not taste better.  It leaves very bitter taste in your mouth when you see free coffee in the lobby later.
• Saying good bye is never easy.
• Steve and Tory deserve tremendous credit for giving us a weekend pass for Mother's Day.

I feel very lucky to have a friend like Kathleen.  She is someone who has only been my friend for about four years, but knows me better than many friends who have known me for twenty-four years.   She gives me great advice, calls me out when I get a little rattled, and will talk to me for hours.  I look forward to the next time I see her, even if she can't commit!

Fighting to Lose!

Steve and I are very competitive.  We have been competitive since we were in high school, trying to vie for the best grade in our geeky computer science class.  I think it's what turned the corner for us from "friends" into "going out".  He still brings up that I got an A on my final project which didn't even work.  Thanks Mr. Stover!

So here we are almost twenty years and five kids later.  We're still pretty much the same people, but a little wider in the beam than we once were (his skinny time in high school and mine after Trent's birth).  We still have the same competitive nature which brought me to my idea.  We will compete to see who can lose the most weight (percentage-wise, of course).

We made up a spreadsheet (thanks Mr. Stover!) and are writing down every day our weight.  Although we have only been doing it since the weekend, it has really brought out some funny moments already.  As the grocery buyer I constantly threaten to buy Oreos and Swiss Cake Rolls which are Steve's weakness, and he gives me funny looks when I order water with lemon at restaurants.  He constantly reminds me how much easier I have it because I don't have as much weight to lose and I tell him he has it much easier because there are so many more ways for him to modify his diet.  It's all in good nature and hopefully will be successful in our endeavor to lose weight.

The kids are in on it too, I have one cheerleader and Steve has two.  Either way if we lose any weight, we both win.

Final check-in is in five weeks.  I'll keep you posted.

Slapped on the Wrist and Moving On

I know, I know!  It's been FOREVER since I've written!  I have excuses, lots of them, but I'll save them for other dry spells.   The truth is that I put the blog on hold while our dog was sick.  I thought we were going to lose him and thank goodness we didn't, but it was a while before we had our Willie back.  I didn't feel like I could write like everything was fine, nor could I leave it open while we were dealing with him.  Then he got better, and I got busy, and it's been two months!  My apologies!  I plan to make it up to you.

I'll start by telling you something I found last night when putting the babies to bed.  Usually they are very easy to put to bed, we've found a little routine of bath, teeth brushing, medicines, and snuggles which seems to work.  We put them in bed, close the door and "good night".  Well, last night Kate was not having it.  She fussed and screamed until we went in there to snuggle some more.  As I went to pick her up, I glanced over at her brother sleeping soundly in his bed.  He had his blanket covering his ears from the wretched shrieks and fell right to sleep.  What a smart boy!  

Good thing he learned that trick early, based on his sister's lungs I'm guessing we're going to want to plug our ears a lot.

Talented

Our school Talent Show is coming up.  While my children are very entertaining, they might need some help in finding the perfect "talent"  for the show.  Tonight when I asked if either of them were going to be in this year's Talent Show, Skye quickly showed me his "talent."  This consisted of two fingers at his mouth, an awkward hold from the other hand, and a sound which makes mothers cringe (and little boys giggle).

Other ideas from the boys when I nixed the finger trick were:

• Drink a gallon of milk in a minute.
  
• Burp the ABC's.
  
• Make arm farts.
  

I don't think they are going to make it into the Talent Show, do you?

Humbled

It's been a couple of days and I think I'm able to now write about this.  It still gives me a lump in my throat, and all the while I'm embarrassed to admit how much it truly affected me.  I was devastated, completely in a funk and unable to show my face...all because of a bad haircut.

I got it cut on Friday, just a trim but added some bangs.  That was the plan, but my hair stylist had other ideas.  I've used this woman before and have been very happy.  I'm not certain if it was because of a language barrier in what I was telling her or if she had been possessed by Jezebel, but she decided to give me some serious layers in the back.  Serious layers.  No joking as these things were not to be ignored, unbelievable and unexplainable.  Let's just say I felt like Jon Bon Jovi in the '80s.  It was bad.

I knew it was bad when I left the salon and called my friend Nancy who I knew would tell me the truth.   Her words gave me no comfort, "It's kinda cute, but let's call my next-door neighbor who is also a stylist to see if she can fix you."  Another snip-snip in Nancy's kitchen, with words like "bad" and "grow" and facial expressions which would scare even the bravest souls left me with no hope.  I wet it, dried it, styled it.  Terrible.  Wet it, dried it, styled it.  Awful.  There was no hope.

So I put on a baseball cap, 'cause I had places to go.

I wore that sucker all night, had nightmares that night of my husband trying to steal my cap from me, and put it right back on the next morning.  No one saw my hair.  I couldn't even look.  I cried and cried.  It made me more upset than I ever thought I would be.  I did not think I was a vain person and I thought hair is just an accoutrement to the beauty of a person.  Bad haircuts happened to many of my friends and I just poo-pooed them for being silly.  Hair grows, get over it!

Now I truly know how I feel.  My hair is an extension of me.  When it looks bad, I feel bad.  Bad hair days are real and it's can really ruin my day.  I hate I feel this way because I want to believe I am loved for the person I am on the inside, not what my hair looks like or what size jeans I wear.  The fact is we all judge people by what they look like before we even try to know the person.  If a person looks disheveled, I am most likely not to strike up a conversation.  It kills me to say it, because I want my children to learn more about inner beauty.  Especially for my boys, I certainly don't want them to judge women for the size of their breasts or their bleach-blonde hair.  How can I teach them this when I don't even believe it myself?

The next morning I ended up going to Nancy's salon and having one of her friends give me a short and sassy haircut.  Everyone loves it and it's (ahem) growing on me.  I think I would have loved it much more if it hadn't of been my only option, but am grateful I was able to get something great out of such a bad haircut.

Now if only it didn't matter so much.

Here We Go

I knew we were on the cusp of puberty with my nine year-old.  Every time he says, "Mom, can I ask you something?" I start to twitch.  I don't think he has noticed my serious apprehension to what is next to come out of his mouth and thankfully each question has been something very benign.  Examples, "What would happen if we put just a little bit of foil in the microwave?" or "Did you know that a bull is actually really careful in a china shop?"  WHEW!  Somehow I have avoided "the talk" or any other mention of sex from my pre-pubescent son.

Until now.

What I didn't realize was my first uncomfortable conversation was going to be with my five year old.  Steve has been sick all weekend in bed and by Sunday night, I'm spent.  The children were all fed and I was killing time until 8:00 when I could put the babies down so we were watching a little Sesame Street.  Elmo was trying to figure out what dance he should do for their "Street Party."

I know what you're thinking...how in the world does Sesame Street lead to uncomfortable conversations?  Well, there were lots of different dancers with many of the ladies who were scantily cladded.  After about the third showing of the dancers LA exclaims, "Not sexy ladies again!"  I (stupidly) respond, "You don't like sexy ladies?"  His response, "Whenever I see them they make my penis go up."

Silence.

Silence.

I guess I should be relieved all his parts work and apparently he is a heterosexual (more about that later), but I'm going to have to process this for a while.

Now I'm even more scared about what will come out of the nine year-old's mouth!

The Weekend

In front of the fire, one of my favorite places to be!

My Honey Girls weekend was fantastic!  My friends and I danced, drank, ate, drank, went to the spa, drank, and went snow tubing.  Snow tubing was probably the highlight of the weekend, with Clara's awesome dinner on Friday night and a flash of Diana's reconstructed breasts.  WEEEE!  It was wonderful to get to see everyone and get to know them just a little bit better.

A couple of personal demons were aired throughout the weekend which was probably to be expected.  Girls want to talk, just to talk, and get some things off their chests and to get some advice from people they trust.  I was honored to be a part of many of these conversations and hope my input helped.

I came home exhausted, having accomplished nothing I had intended.  Sleeping in and catching up on my magazines just didn't happen, but my sense of self was back.  So often many moms feel like they are moms and wives first and forget about themselves.  It was the reason I had such a difficult time leaving to begin with.  With my cancer scare happening right before my weekend away, I was even more aware of how badly I needed to be "Sarah".  It was perfect.  I felt whole.

Thank you to all the girls.  I hope you had as fabulous a time as I did.

Another Ordinary Day

Today I thought I had cancer.  For three hours today I thought I had cancer.  I was on Facebook and blogging, completely avoiding the piles of laundry and heaps of dishes in the sink, when I got a phone call.  It was the lovely technician I had met on Friday during my first ever mammogram.  I say she was lovely because she was just that, lovely.  As she was pushing and shoving parts of my anatomy which are too little to be pushed and shoved, we talked and talked.  She really made me comfortable, even as I uncomfortably stood naked from the waist up talking to her.  Stephanie was lovely.

So when Stephanie called I didn't really panic.  Maybe I forgot something, maybe she wanted to meet me for coffee, maybe...what?  "Blah, blah, abnormality, blah, blah, want you to come in today, blah, blah..."  Uhhh.  Panic!  I told her I would call her as soon as I could arrange something for my children.

I call Steve who is the voice of reason.  Calm, completely controlled, and me losing my mind.  I call my friend Nancy who completely steps up to the plate to help me with the babies and LA.  What a relief!  I call Stephanie right back and will be there in two hours.  Lovely on one end of the phone, panic on the other.

For the next hour I am a bundle of nerves.  Thankfully I had the aforementioned chores to do, so I took my nervous energy and went to work.  Laundry, done.  Dishes, done.  Still panicking.  The trip back to the hospital was full of panic as well, almost surreal.  There was billowing smoke from a fire in the next town and fire trucks screaming down the road.  About three miles further, there was a car completely flipped over and turned around on the side of the road with people stopping to help but no emergency vehicles yet.  Although I took notice of these things I felt more like I was watching it all on a movie, completely disconnected.

The thoughts going through my mind went from denial (I'm 37 years old, I nursed all of my children, I don't have a family history of breast cancer) to logistics (I need to be home by 2:45 to pick up my other children from the bus stop or I can call my neighbor) to bargaining (I can have a surgery but no chemo, I can have chemo but I don't want to die).  My kids faces, the babies (oh! the babies!), my husband, our family, I am so blessed!

I sat in the waiting room and looked around.  Another woman had the same "special" paperwork I had. I thought, "She looks healthy, hopefully I look as healthy as her."  Stephanie came out and called me to the room.  I know she does this all the time, but she made me feel like a special case with her reassuring words and calmness.  She remembered lots of things about me from Friday and we chatted.  She told me I would have results before I left today, which relived me tremendously.  I asked her about "Call Backs", the name they used for my case.  She said about 10% of the patients get called back but only about 10% of those are cancer.  She pushed and shoved even harder this time to take the pictures and when she was done she took them down to the radiologist to read them.

I think she was gone for about five minutes, maybe ten, but those were some L-O-N-G minutes.  I sat in my hospital gown waiting for news which would change my life.  I thought of my father and the waiting game he played.  I remembered one particularly grueling wait for brain scan results and the worry he had for possibly being "incompetent".  Those results took a couple of hours, other tests took a couple of days, so torturing to his soul and the spirit!  I was fortunate with the couple of minutes I had to wait, completely terrified of what I faced.  As I heard her footsteps down the corridor, I don't think I breathed.  She walked in with a big grin and I knew everything would be okay.

As I walked out of the hospital, feeling very fortunate, I wondered about those who don't get such get news.  Cancer is such a ruthless and degrading disease, those recently diagnosed will have a terrible fight.  Many will win, many will not.

So on this very ordinary day I was given another one of those "reality checks" to remember how fortunate I am.  I don't have cancer and I am so blessed.  What a wonderful ordinary day!  Now, to figure out if the fire and the car crash were real or just my imagination, and what it all means...