Evil Mommy

last thursday I cleaned my children's rooms for them. While they were at school and couldn't watch me do it. They thought I was being nice. They thanked me and everything. Gave me hugs. smiled. If I could do an evil laugh it would fit in here right about now. tsk, tsk. they just don't know. They have not yet learned that the last thing any child should want is for Mother to clean their room.

Because you know I tossed. A full garbage bag for each bedroom. Toys have disappeared from the shelves, paper work from school that was being saved for who knows what reason have melted in ether. Puzzles missing pieces vaporized. ah yes. Mom cleaned, hoping all the while that the hard work was actually going to get her somewhere, that the rooms would in fact stay clean and be easier for the kids to clean.

But that's the big joke. It does not, in fact, work like that at all. Somehow, their rooms look exactly the same as they did before I put all that work into them. So, really, the last thing any mother should want is to clean their kids rooms for them. Someone had to learn a lesson from all this, I suppose.

And She's Off!

Rilla is reading. Really reading. I think it's clicking for her. I knew she was getting very close to being able, so I checked out a Dick and Jane book from the library. I love Dick and Jane for early reading. The often repeated words are great for helping her have success and early recognition of high frequency words. The stories only introduce one or two new words each time, so she gets more confident the more she reads the book.

We have been reading Dick and Jane together two nights now. After I'm done helping her, she goes on to read some by herself. It's so cute to listen to her as she reads words she knows and carefully sounds out the ones she doesn't. Sometimes she does a wild guess but we slow down and I encourage her to sound out each letter to be sure she gets the word right.

I love that she is reading now. I love that she wants to read. I hope that she develops the same love for books that the rest of us have.

How Amy Got Her Groove Back or Creative Blocks Suck

So I mentioned that I had scrappers block for two months. It was horrible. I avoided my desk completely. But I have broken through it and I don't see it ever happening to me again like that. why? because I've given myself permission to scrap how I want to scrap.

I know, I know, not a big deal right? You just do what you like and heck to everyone else, there's no wrong way and all that. However, this new way is totally backwards from how I had been scrappping, so it wasn't just a matter of deciding it was ok, it was a matter of discovering what worked.

Anyway, a few months ago as I was doing my pages for the Power Team contest, (the evil, evil contest! sorry Jyl) I had an epiphany about inspiration. I had been trying to see layouts in art work and advertising because, well, that's the fashionable way to get inspired these days. It wasn't working for me so well. One day I was thinking about how I had really wanted to be an architect in high school and how I still really loved to look at buildings and then it hit me. I could use architecture as my inspiration.

It worked. I picked up a copy of Architecture Digest and read through it with a sketch pad next to me. I had page layouts flying through my head. it was amazing. I was getting ideas just from my other ideas. I sketched out everything I thought of whether it would make a good page or not. And then I started translating them into pages and that's where I hit a snag.

See, I just went digital in march. I was still used to having a stack of 4x6 photos to scrap. 4x6 photos that I carefully composed and seldom wanted to crop in any way. So all my layouts had to be based on that size of photos, but my sketches weren't like that. my creative side was arguing with my scrooge side (which is pretty dominate since I've given it free reign over the years.) Creative said I needed to be printing out the pics myself in the sizes I needed. Scrooge said it was too expensive and I needed to be ordering pics online at 12 cents each.

As soon as I gave Scrooge the boot, my mojo came back. It's been fabulous liking what I'm doing again. even the pages that I can honestly say are not my best work, I still like. They are ok and that's fine. I'm enjoying the process again. It's fun to start with the design and not the photos. I flip through my sketch book looking for a design that speaks to me, one that I would love to create at that moment. Then I go find pictures that fit, edit and print them up, and I scrap. And I like the results.

when all is said and done, that's the miracle: that I like scrapbooking again. It's a great feeling.

List for the day

I'm listing out my to do's because I know it won't happen unless I do:

1. clean house
2. make children help clean house
3. try not to let #2 drive me to insanity

see, not a long list.

call me crazy

I don't know if any of you remember how I was after I lost the Power Team contest. I couldn't scrap for two months. i was thinking of changing my hobby. it lost all it's fun for me. I swore I would never do that to myself again.

which is why I think I'm nuts for appying for another design team. This one is a new product manufacturer. Scuttlebutt says they have worked in the scrapbook industry and have designed some really cute product. I like the terms of agreement for the DT. cash for pages is my way of thinking ;) so, just for the heck of it, I'm going to go for it. I also hope I can do this without getting too worked up and emotionally involved. I guess this is my test for taking myself a bit less seriously, a test to see if I can persue higher levels in the industry as a page designer without losing myself in it.

It will be interesting.

The Unexpected Is Always Expected

this is what I found in my sugar bowl last week. It's a toy compass. It doesn't work. It does, however, fit inside the sugar bowl and that's the only explanation I have for why it's there. Because it fits . . . .

In all senses of the word. This is Bedlam after all.

I guess I'm shallow

I don't get network televison. we would have to buy cable or satilite and I can't see spending that much so our kids can zone out in front of Spongebob. So we basically arent' getting much news lately. and I like it that way! I like not having to see the networks revisit the same horror stories over and over. I like not knowing how low human beings can sink when they are desperate. I like not seeing the images flash across my screen.

I don't like being emotional. I don't like crying. I will shut myself off first. I'm not seeking out news from the Gulf Coast because I don't want to see it. My heart aches for those who are hurt, who are missing, who's lives have been ripped to pieces. but I don't want to see it.

On the way home from Ut this past weekend we drove past a wreck. There was a full sized semi laying on it's side and then behind it this compact car without a back end. it was gone. just not there. they cut the doors off the front and I could see the air bag inflated in front of the steering wheel. The trailer was smashed and there were brown boxes leaking out the cracks in the twisted metal. We drove past this at 70 mph. I could hardly breathe.

This image replays in my mind at odd times and my chest literally aches thinking about the possibility of someone being in that back seat. I don't want more awful images in my head. I guess that means I'm shallow, but it's how I deal.

Taking my Own Challenge

A page I did at my friend Kristy's house Friday night. I intend to keep telling the difficult parts, but only once in a while. This page is pretty personal, so i doubt I will even post it in any online galleries much less submit it for publication.

just like all the rest

My baby is screaming right now. why is she screaming? because the book was too short. yes, the book. She crawled to me carrying The Monster at the End of This Book in one hand, crawled up on my lap and handed it to me. I read it to her with all the right voice inflections and she laughed and laughed. Then when it was over, she stared at the back cover in shock. How could it be over? I read her another one. She ran out of handy books and now she's screaming. She wants more books. More reading. She can't get enough. my one year old will sit quietly and patiently for at least five books.

The other day, she got a birthday card from my grandparents. I had to make up a story to go with it because she thought it was a book and sat down on my lap ready for one. She was mad it was so short, so I had to tell the story three times. Grandpa's cards have never gotten so much love.

Yup. just like the other four. Can you tell they are my kids?

Been tagged

Becky tagged me in the latest game of blogging memes. I have to describe five weird traits. I'm thinking hard, because you all know I'm just the most normal person in the universe. ;)

1. I can't stand having people stand behind me. my comfort space extends at least twice as far behind me as it does in front. it's especially bad if they are trying to read over my shoulder. ugh.

2. colored things must go in rainbow order. we have rainbow plates and they must be stacked in the cupboard and in the dishdrainer in proper order. M&M's are eaten in order (brown goes next to red.) it's all I can do to not rearrange the crayon boxes.

3. I dont' like pencils. I will do math with a pen in order to avoid pencils. they are scratchy.

4. when I say something makes my teeth itch, it really does. I get a weird crawling sensation on my teeth when I touch certain textures. cotton balls, velour (but not velvet), flat wall paint, etc.

5. I like fresh new roads. I do not like fresh gravel.

ok, enough about me. I'm tagging Jess. ;) I promise this is the one and only time I will tag you though, so you can keep reading my blog, k?

School Girl

Rilla started school yesterday. As we got to the sidewalk in front of the school, she asked her daddy if she could ride on his shoulders. So he lifted her up and she sat there with a big grin on her face and began to sing: "I'm going to school, I'm going to school." When I heard that, I knew that she would be just fine.

The Big Reveal

Well, I spent quite a bit less than Trading Spaces would have, and it was my own money, but I didn't have to put up with Hilde, so I think I did all right. We got the couch yesterday and the rug showed up this afternoon. I still have to finish my curtains for the second window and paint and hang my picture shelves, but the main part is done. I am thinking I can live with the tablecloth until the perfect thing comes along, which is a relief. it's hard to find fabric in a print in green red and yellow that doesn't have Christmas trees on it. I will be finding a new fabric for my chair cushions asap. (maybe even this weekend) but here you are, my new livingroom. I'm a happy, happy girl. :)

Here's the couch and rug:

Here's the new entertainment center we bought in July. It came in a box but it's a huge improvement over what we had. (please ignore the uuuuuuugly speakers. I'll be buying my dh a new sound system for Christmas I think just to get rid of those, lol!) When we finish the basement, these will go downstairs to the family room and that wall will get a new doorway.

This is the wall grouping that started the redecorating itch ;)

When Mama Sets the Schedule . . .

Standing in my mother's kitchen, I picked up baby. She smelled like she had a problem.
"oh look you made a present for Daddy! Let's go find him."

I carry her into the livingroom, expecting to see Steve on the couch. No Steve. but wait! there's a flash of moving curtain to the left. I inspect it. There is the top of my husband's head peeking out from behind the chair. He was on the floor cowering from that poopy diaper.

"It looks like he heard me." I gasp out and then I actually collapsed to the floor laughing.

He still had to change the poopy.

Anatomy of a Pirate

"mommy listen to my story"

Matt has reached the point where he wants to narrate his play for me. He's so cute about it. Everything is a story. Yesterday at the pool, he pretended to be different kinds of fish.

"I'm a hugging fish. I'm going to hug you."

Then he was a twirling fish, and a kissing fish, and a jumping fish, and a bird fish, just about any kind of fish a three year old boy could imagine. And of course, he was a shark. He chased around the kiddie pool "I'm a shark! I'm going to bite you!"

Libby thought he was quite funny until he tried to sit on my lap. Then demon baby came out. Aparantly, my lap belongs exclusively to her. She was yelling and growling and pushing on him until I could get him shifted somewhere else. It seems she's jealous now of me. Silly girl, she's number five. She's always got to share.

oh and yes, I got a sunburn. ouch.

routines are changing

School starts in four days. All three of my school aged kids are very excited. They have their backpacks packed with their supplies and they are registered and ready to go.

This will be Marilla's first year. she's so excited and so ready. when they did their evaluation for Kindergarten she got an almost perfect score. (she didn't skip and she didn't know where her knuckle was.) She loves that her classroom has toys in it. She's so close to reading but not quite there yet. I'm fighting mommy guilt over this of course. She should have been reading by now if I had spent the time with her that I spent with the other two, maybe not at three, but definately by five. I just didn't ever read to her as much as I read to them. and it's not like she never asks.

I only have a few more days of everyone at home. No I'm not that sad about this. It has been fun to have them all playing together, but I'm ready for our school routines to start again. They are ready to get some time away from each other. The bickering just ruins any chance of me accomplishing to do list item number seven.

we are going school shopping tomorrow with my sister Cathy (hi Cathy!) It's been a tradition since Sarah's first year and we all love it. we spend the day at the mall and then go have dinner together. It should be a fun day.

The Redecorating is really taking hold

I've put off decorating so long that now that I"m starting to do something about it, I'm a bit obsessed. Take for example my purchase this evening of this area rug:
I was browsing Pottery Barn's clearance section (which is the only section that even comes close to having something I can afford) when I ran across it. I had run it by Steve and entered my credit card number inside of ten minutes. it's a fantastic buy and will be perfect with my red couch and green walls.

All along I always said I was waiting to decorate until I could do what I really wanted. Deep down I felt that was just an excuse and I didn't believe I would ever get something I was happy with. The whole Pottery Barn taste, Walmart budget thing. I just get giddy when I see the way my livingroom is coming together. One of these days I should post a pic of my bedroom too. it's about as close to done as the living room. I'm loving it too. All soft golds and browns, very calm and relaxing but not cold.

yea me. happy dance and all that stuff. :)

I Hope You Break a Leg

I've noticed a trend lately in scrapbookers getting discouraged about their motherhood skills. From the blogs I've read, they feel as if they are the only ones who get mad, who have kids who do stuff that gets mommy mad, who don't have perfectly clean houses, who don't change the sheets and wash the car once a week.

I blame internet scrapbook galleries for this.

I Hope You Dance, Dream Big, You Inspire Me. Pages of angels who behave perfectly and even the few times they do mess up their mommies laugh and take pictures and post how cute they are instead of actually getting mad about it. So we read this journaling and we start to think that this is normal life. That the world is populated with everyone else's baby darlings and your holy terrors. It's easy to assume that you are the only one with a messy house buying McDonald's food and neglecting the bedding when all you read is stories from Rose-Colored-Glasses Land. You start to think it's abnormal to be angry when your child cuts her own hair the night before your brother's wedding.

Now, I'm not advocating that scrapbookers all turn cynical and negative and dwell on the embarrassing and bad parts of motherhood. Just that we be a bit more rounded in our renditions. The internet galleries can make us all a bit too aware of our broader audience. It's easy to get caught up in writing our journaling for everyone else. Saying what we think we should say instead of what we really want to say or what we really feel.

Journaling should be more personal than that. It should be written for you and your family. You shouldn't do a page about how much you love your family because Rebecca Sower says you should. You should do it because at that moment when you look at that picture that's what you feel. What's wrong with a page that says "do you remember how mad I got when you did that?" If we are writing our family's history, shouldn't it be the real history?

Disclaimer: No, I don't really believe that hanging out on scrapbook galleries is making all scrapbookers need Zoloft. I do think I have seen a few too many "Angel" pages. I did intend for this to be funny, but that's not how it came out this morning.

Commenting

I am loving Blogger. i love that it's free. i love how i can customize my blog any way i want. what i don't love is how dumb i feel about the comments. all i want to do is be able to e-mail people responses to their comments. i just can't figure out how to do that. i would like to comment back to you guys, so please be patient with me. i'm not ignoring the comments. i read them all and i enjoy your responses to what i write. thanks.

btw, what do you think of my new side bar addition? i lifted the code (with permission) from Helena. her cast of characters was too fun to leave alone.

Number Seven

This is my list of things I need to get done today:

1. dishes
2. laundry
3. clean house
4. paint shelves
5. poly the stair railing (second coat)
6. sew curtains
7. try not to go insane

numbers 1, 2, 3 and 7 are on the list every day. I don't always get number seven done.

Sing with me now . . .

I got a new couch, I got a new couch, I got a new couch. !!!!! it's the first brand new couch I have ever, ever owned. heck it's the first time I've bought real furniture (besides our matress set.) Real as in does not come with a set of instructions in a cardboard box. I am in love with it. Ok, picture this with sage green walls, khaki tab top curtains with cream banding, a cream entertainment center and black picture frames with black and white photos around the room:

This is not my home (I wish) it's the picture from the store website. I just got the couch. there's no space in my house for the whole set. I love it though. I have to wait three weeks to get it, but I'll post pictures of my cute new space when it comes in.

Random Tuesday

I have a lot percolating through my brain today, but I didn't want to do seperate entries, therefore, I will be random and squish them all into one.

Potty training was successful yesterday. Matt wore pants all day and they were same pair from the first to bedtime. Isn't it funny how it goes like that? They just don't get it and it feels like you will have to homeschool your child through eighth grade just so they don't have the embarrassment of wetting their pants in front of the whole school and then all at once, they do. it's like a little potty training switch. anyway. he's already in pants this morning and I hope to do as well today as we did yesterday.

I have packages to mail today. a big pile of them. This means I have to drag five kids to the post office. Pray for me.

My oldest has been gone for a week. we missed her. the baby was so excited to see her last night and this morning. it was adorable. What is not adorable was how the oldest two were fighting before 8:30. sigh. when does school start again?

I think we have started the weaning process. We are down to two to three meals a day. I thought Libby would be on the whole eat all day thing until she was two. She doesnt' even seem to miss me that much. I guess it's part of her growing up. I never thought I would feel so sad about weaning. I am grateful I got this chance to nurse my last baby. I looked at her sleeping last night and she looked so big. She was so long and her face looked older and all of the sudden I missed my baby. How dare she grow up! She's supposed to be my baby forever. I understand now why every mother the world over spoils the last baby. How can you not? they have your heart all tied up and held for ransom.

The stair project

We bought this house to be a project. We went in with eyes wide open ready and willing to do the work. We used to have a big hole in the backyard. heck, the back yard was almost all hole. (dig out from the basement additon that was never backfilled. We got that filled in. We put grass in the back yard.

But that was outside. On the inside, we still had a lot to do. everything always involved the phrase "but first we need to move the stairs." yes, move. A whole three feet to the north. The old stairs were put in with no regard to how it would affect the basement layout. It ended up cutting a 10ft section into three pieces so no section was big enough for anything. And they had a 5'5" clearance at one section, and there were three stairs that were different heights than the rest. everybody tripped on the last one. In short, they needed redone.

They are almost done. It took Steve several weekends to get them in. Its' been a lot of work, but man is it worth it. The placement even feels more logical upstairs, not to mention the new storage/utility room we've gained in the basement. We went from one of those half wall things as a railing (a leaning half wall. it's never been plumb or very secure. Like the tower in Pisa, it just kept leaning more as the years went by) to a beautiful oak railing. It's lovely. Man it was a lot of work. 18 hours worth of work. It's stained now, but doesnt have a polyurathane coat yet. we'll be doing that tomorrow.

Here's the new railing:

The Importance of Pants

Matt is still potty training. I took a break from it when I decided that if I had to drag him screaming to the bathroom, we probably weren't going to be very successful. So we had a lovely break where he wore pullups like diapers and I tried to avoid letting anyone know that my 3 1/2 year old was actually not potty trained.

We're back and he's still hard to get into the bathroom. He still hates the idea of it. He likes diapers. Diapers are convient. You never have to think about them. You never have to stop to take a potty break. Someone else takes care of you when you have a diaper. he's past the point where mommy's praise is all he needs. He doesn't seek it like a two year old does. I often wish I could have been possible to train him last summer. But I think about my eight month pregnant belly and a boy who couldn't speak clearly, and I know that we had to wait.

Matt's a tough nut so I had to come up with a unique way to crack him. Chocolate as a reward doesn't work, because mommy eats it all. Praise doesn't work very well with him either. So mommy has resorted to rewarding with pants. yes, Pants. We start the day in just underwear. If he goes potty, he gets pants. He doesn't get to play outside without them, so it's a pretty decent incentive. Not that he's actually making any progress. He's earned pants maybe twice this week. I can't keep up on the laundry. I've resorted to stealing underwear from his brother's drawer just to keep up. I think my worst nightmare is trying to train a child forever. Days of wet and soiled underwear stretch on into infinity and never, ever end.

So yesterday I had to use the bathroom while he was trying to use his potty chair.

"Mommy, are you going potty?"

"yes, I am."

"Do you get pants?"

Yes, Matt. Luckily, as a no longer pregnant mother who must fear sneezes, yes, I get pants.

My Friend Anne

well, she's not really my friend, but I would hope that if she were real she would think of me as a "kindred spirit." I met her when I was 10. Mom bought Anne of Green Gables and my sisters and mom and I all took turns reading it. we passed it around and giggled together about green hair and Gilbert. over the next couple of months we searched every bookstore we went to for the next book in the series. I think I was 14 when I we finally finished collecting all eight. Anne was part of my akward teenage years. I think she helped ground me.

now the first time through, it was hard to read the middle books. 12 year old girls really don't have as much connection with the grown up Anne. Once they got back to Anne's children, I was back in the swing, loving it all. Strong good Jem, wise Walter, silly, vain Rilla. I loved all their adventures.

Over the years, I've gone back and reread the books. I always forget about Davy and Dora until I'm reading Anne of Avonlea again. I always get mad at Anne for telling Gilbert no the first time he asks in Anne of the Island. Silly girl, everyone else knows, how can she not know?! I always read quickly through Anne of Windy Poplars because it's my least favorite (I only read it for the sake of Little Elizabeth and Rebecca Dew.) I always cry for poor Joyce in House of Dreams. Oh but the tears I shed in Rilla of Ingleside! The first time I read that book I knew I had to name one of my girls Marilla. I had to.

I'm rereading them again. Right now I'm skimming quickly through Windy Poplars, enjoying more this time that previous reads. i think because Im getting older. The older I get the more I understand the older Anne. Sure she's only 23 at the end of the book, but she's still dealing with adult problems. She's still Anne. there are days when I wish I could climb up the little steps to her big bed and sit in her tower room while the wind blows and share confidences with her. her little stove would be lit and Rebecca Dew would check to be sure we were comfortable. I would bring her a nice pen nib so she could have one that wasn't scratchy or dull.

I used to imagine a lot as a little girl. I haven't done that much as an adult, not much more than seeing things in corners in the middle of the night. Anne reminds me that imagination is for imagining beautiful things. For dreaming, for hoping.

Have you met my friend Anne? you really should.

yes, it's really Bedlam

that banner is huge. I'll probably change it in a few days so I don't overwhelm too much. I did want to post that picture though. It's so quintescentially Joshua. It's my life. I don't often talk about how crazy my kids are on my blog but believe me they are nuts.

Take last thursday as a fine example. The baby is (still) sick, so we aren't doing much of anything. we stay home and the kids are getting stir crazy. by the end of the day, I had had enough and sent them all outside to play even though it was very hot. I was a nice mommy and said they could play in the sprinkler. So they go get soaking wet and try to come back in. I said no. They switch the sprinker head for a spray nozzle and get each other even more wet and try to come back in. I said no. They proceed to turn the front flower bead (sans flowers, we're still working on it. I guess you could call it the front dirt bed) into mud pies. then, you guessed it, they wanted to come back inside. I made them all go play in the back yard after this. five minutes later, Bubba is back in the house bawling because his brother hit him in the face with a bat. yes, a bat. Joshua didn't mean to hit Matty, he was actually trying to hit himself. yes. himself. don't ask. I didn't. I couldn't bring myself to so I have no clue why a seven year old would want to hit himself in the head with a bat.

This is a normal day at my house. This is why I call it Bedlam. fits doesn't it?

guess what?

Libby took four steps last night. :)

my town is stupid

so you remember my beautiful perfect road? the one I gushed over? the one I was willing to carry 30lbs of books and herd five kids for? yeah. that one. the one that is no more.

They gravelled it this morning. laid the tar and then a horribly uneven bed of loose gravel over it. there are piles where they laid out too much and holes where people have already ruined the surface with their tires. It's yucky. Oh I'm sure they could show me how this nasty gravel bed is supposed to make our lovely blacktop last longer. personally, i think the windshield replacement guys have been bribing the city council.

yet once again, I live on a stinky road. sadly it will take years for it to smooth out. we really don't get enough traffic to press it flat enough.

sigh. I never did get out my roller blades, either.

(see you didn't know I had roller blades did you? I'm not that predictable. People can now say "Amy had roller blades ? . . . . huh."*)

*please excuse my lousy Friends reference. we just started Netflix and we're starting at the begining.

more ooohing and aaaaahing

I am up late playing with pictures. thought I would post my favorites from this evening. don't you wish you had eyelashes like that?
true baby style, she eats everything. that's my lens cap. well, my only lens cap. I seem to lose them pretty easily. gotta love her dimples in her fingers. makes me want to do that "Sqeee!" thing that only women can do when they see a baby.
and that is the face I love. sigh. what a cutie.

all photos taken with my Rebel XT and 50mm lens. 400ISO, f-1.8, around 60 shutter. (I was in AV mode. it varried a bit) the sepia tone was done in camera in the BW parameter with sepia toning. red filter effect.

Who Needs Typepad

Not me! ok, so it would have been a heck of a lot easier at Typepad, but I got myself a custom banner. Pretty snazzy huh? Thanks to a link to Lindsay Teague's blog, I can now change my banner anytime I want. Once you get the coding set up it's a pretty easy change. And since I was already messing with my coding, I added some links on the side just for fun. One of these days I'll figure out how to do the cool links to music or books like Lindsay has, but today is not that day. I can get the hyperlink for the webpage for the book, but my book image comes up as a litte red x. I will have to play more with that. The coding that I stole off Linsay's blog was very long and complex.

anyway, you may all oooh and aaaah over my cute baby now. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . now! aaaaaahhh!

Summer all summed up

Nine o'clock is my favorite time in the summer. Dusk is starting to settle in and the heat is disapating. And my children are usually in bed. This is the time that Steve likes to mow the lawn.

I love watching him too. He loves the puttering around in the yard stuff. He even likes to mow. When the house is mostly quiet and i can hear the hum of the mower out the window, I feel compeled to go out and see him. He looks so content, with his routine, up and down the yard a slow march behind the mower. The air feels good after a day of scorching heat and the summer smell of fresh cut grass permeates everything.

Summer isn't my favorite time of year, but in these moments I can apreciate it for itself. a time to unwind and let the world pass. A time to let go of the day to day and find the moments that define your life.

Ten Years

That's how old she is. Ten years ago I was laying in an old hospital bed holding a sleeping baby. My first baby. I had a pillow over my stomach to protect my incision and I was desprately trying to figure out the nursing thing. (I didn't get it figured out with her. my milk went away less than six days later.) She was so beautiful though. dark brown hair. opaque blue eyes that I was sure were going to stay blue and everyone else knew they weren't. Her blue eyes didn't last two weeks. She was so tiny and her cries sounded like the mewing of a kitten, tiny and squeeky.

We've had fun with her. She's always been intelligent and curious. She could recognize a letter as a letter before she was ten months old. She could distinguish the A and the E when she was a year, name all the letters at 16 months, and read before she was 3 1/2. She reads so well now that she's had a hard time finding books at the school library. There are shelves and shelves of books she's not allowed to read because they are too far under her reading level. She read the entire Narnia series in first grade. Read Harry Potter 1-4 in second grade. She spends hours everyday reading. Reading the same books over and over or devouring a new one. I love that I've been able to share my love for fantasty books with her. And she likes Anne of Green Gables too. how cool is that?

She's a great big sister and always wanting to help with the baby. She and Joshua fight like cats and dogs but she almost never fights with Rilla or Matt. she's pretty even tempered and is sensitive to other people's feelings.

I'm glad she's my girl. Happy Birthday, Sarah.

messing with Macro

I have a macro setting on two of my lenses. I don't use it on my short lens much because it's mostly worthless. I do, however, like to play with the macro on my long lens. it's not a true Macro, only a 1:2 ratio and I have to stand back 2 1/2 feet from my subject, but it's fun to play. Fun to see things in new ways and cut out the background. Macro intensifies your focus on the world.

Look! I can scrap after all

it's been months, but i finally managed to scrap again. for awhile, i wasn't sure the desire would ever come back. i like this one though. it looks just like it did in my head and anyone who scraps knows just how rare that is.

I read too Fast

I'm done. I waited two years for the book and I'm done already. I had it in my hands on Saturday and I was done by that evening. I shouldn't be surprised. That's how I eat chocolate. I don't savor; I devour.

Yes, I'm talking about Harry Potter. I discovered the series right before book 2 came out. before my almost ten year old was even born. I love Harry Potter books. they are fun escapism. I'm glad that my daughter is now old enough to share the excitement with me. She devours the books too. She's read them more than I have.

We even went to a release party with my sister and her daughter. My sister is a big enough fan that she posts on a message board for HP fans. We walked to the store and on the way home she read the first chapter outloud while the three of us listened in and the girls kept trying to read over her shoulder. We have plans to attend a release party for book seven together. There's a huge store in Portland I want to be at for that one.

guess he had better go eat worms . . .

poor matt. He has an imaginary friend named Nanngy. (aprox. spelling based on his pronunciation.) today he brought me the phone and said with a very sad look on his face, "Nanngy won't talk to me."

even his imaginary friend won't talk to him. poor guy. it doesn't get much more pathetic than that.

Sunset at the beach

two vacations in one year?

We went to a family reunion on the Washington Coast. we stayed at the Cape Disappointment state park. They have yurts. (http://www.yurts.com/) yurts are cool. unfortunately, since my parents were paying and there weren't enough beds, my family had to stay in a tent. Tents are 80% of why I hate camping. Sleeping bags are the other 20%. anyway, it was a beautiful area. we were right next to the ocean. the crash of the waves lulled me to sleep every night. The wind was too cold to spend much time in the water, though. Amazingly enough, the Washington coast reminded me of Hawaii more than California did. California didn't smell right. It didn't feel right. The beach we were on somehow reminded me of Bikini Beach in November. it was nice. I could close my eyes and be there again.

(sorry about the funky coding. I have no idea why this is underlined or how to get rid of it. yes I did the whole control u thing. )

Here's some highlights:

this is the North Point lighthouse. we got to go up to the top. the view was amazing. The wind was something else though. this lighthouse and the cape disapointment lighthouse are both still working lighthouses.









here's the lighthouse at sunset. the picture is a bit dark, but I didn't have my tripod. I guess there was a guy from a magazine out taking pics that same night, so we picked a good night to watch sunset at the beach. I have better sunset pics. I'll post some in a seperate entry.



crossing the Astoria bridge. it's three miles long and the big arch thing you see in all the pictures is only 1/4 of it. the rest is flat and much closer to the river.








Star fish. we saw quite a few in the tide pools at the bottom of the cliffs. This particular one was having a good time trying to eat a crab. I'm sure it succeeded. the crab was already dead. The black shells are hundreds of muscles (that's what I was told anyway.) we did see living crabs. Steve kept catching one and releasing it in the tide pool so we could watch it bury itself.

all in all it was a good trip.

Update on my balding son

I took Matt to the dr. yesterday. She checked him out and was not at all concerned. it seems that hair loss is somewhat common in young kids. basically, when it only happens once, you dont' worry that much. She gave me a steroid cream and I'm supposed to use it twice a day until the hair grows back. no big deal and I don't have to feel guilty about matt's eating habits making him go bald at three. isnt' that nice?

my addiction

I can't help myself.  I love making annimated GIF files.  I made my son dance, , my husband shake his head, my baby jump and here she is clapping her hands.  I take pictures just to annimate them.  must be my old fantasy about being a Disney annimator squeezing out.  

oh, and that's not dirt on her cheek.  She's reached the black and blue stage of her babyhood.  you know, when they first start pulling themselves up on furniture and they fall over and bonk their faces.  poor girl.  She'll probably be like her siblings and spend the next ten years of her life with a bruise somewhere on her body. 

Every Morning

This is what I wake up with. Every morning, Libby wakes up at 6:30. I don't wake up at 6:30. I manage to sleep walk myself to the girls' room and get her out of her crib and bring her back to bed with me. She eats and we snuggle. Eventually, I'll convince myself that the kids really shouldn't be left unattended and I'll crawl out of bed (can you tell I'm not a morning person?) Libby will often still be asleep when I get up so I surround her with pillows and the comforter. She looks so sweet sleeping there I can't bring myself to wake her up. Usually, the sounds of Steve and I getting ready for the day will penetrate into her dreams and she will begin to stir. She stretches and wiggles and rolls onto her back. Then her little eyes start to peek open. They flutter closed a few times and then they pop open and she looks around for me. Then she smiles. I pick her up and we go start our day

.

The bedroom shuffle

We bought the boys a new bunkbed on saturday. It looks so cute. I love the color. The boys were so excited. we needed another mattress for Matty and mom brought that over last night. (I'm almost embarrased to admit he was still sleeping in the crib.) So their room is all rearranged. It no longer has a crib. just the big boy bed. They have so much more room. I caught Matt before he got out of bed this morning:


unfortunately, he had already woken up so I missed getting him actually sleeping in his big boy bed. ah well. he did a very cute pretending to sleep thing for me when I asked.

The crib went to the girls' room. I was worried about having Libby sleep in it because she's been waking up in the middle of the night at least once and usually twice (or more) still. I didn't want her waking up the girls. Also the fact that the girls' room is on the other end of the house from my room bothered me a bit. But I took a deep breath and put my baby to sleep in her bedroom with her sisters last night. I laid her down just shy of 10 pm and she woke up at 6:30. yea, Libby!

why does it have to be so hard?

so I had to ground my seven year old yesterday which means he doesn't get to be in the Fiddle Parade today. he won't get to ride the fire truck and wave and laugh with his siblings and his cousin. He was awful and he needed the wake up call but it hurt to have to take that from him.

My three year old is losing his hair. I feel and overwhelming sense of guilt over this. I don't know why it's happening. We are thinking it's because we let him get away with a very limited diet too long without vitamins (because they weren't in the limited diet.) and then last night the one vegtable I could count on him eating and enjoying, spagetti sauce, (in this house, that's a vegetable) he refused to eat. I should call a dr and get him a good physical, but I feel so guilty thinking I know what the problem is and it's my fault that I'm paralized into not making the call because I don't want to hear what a bad mother I am.

my baby keeps waking up four and five times a night. she's nine months old and fully capable of sleeping through the night. she did it for about a month. then she decided she didn't need to anymore and she needed to sleep with me. I've kicked her out of my bed because I wasn't getting any sleep and now I'm still not getting any sleep.

mommyhood is hard.

Really trying hard to avoid the pun

We spent the evening in Weiser today wandering around the booths set up for the annual town festival. In Weiser this happens to be the Fiddle Fest. Yes, a whole week devoted to fiddling. If you are bluegrass fan, this is the place to be. For the rest of us, it's just a chance to wander corny local bazzaars and shop at goofy trinket booths. Oh, and pay exorbitant prices to ride in circles on chintzy carnival rides. The kids seem to love circles and have stomachs of iron though, so I guess it's all good.

Poor Matt though. It seems no one really felt that root beer would sell well enough at the booths to stock it. I walked the entire stupid circuit looking for root beer for that kid and no one had it. This of course commenced a 20 minute melt down in which he forgot how to say anything but "I want root beer!" (Imagine this long and drawn out and spoken with all the anguish of all the people who thought Noah was an idiot. It could only be calmed by a promise of a marshmallow gun and a free sample of kettle corn. (big brother and sister already got their marshmallow guns so I'm not a total pushover. really.) A second melt down was barely averted by a quick run for more tickets so the Little Prince could ride the "roller coaster." (this ride can only be spoken of in quotes, because it only aproximated a roller coaster.) That was fun though. He joined his older sisters and his dad, but not his older brother who could not be persuaded that the thing was not going to kill him. who knows, with these carnival rides, he may have been right.

Mommy was tired after that so we went home. all outings are always over when mommy is tired. that's the rule.

Breakfast philosophy

I’m bucking the system today. I’m not going to write about fathers. Father’s day is almost over anyway.

You know that flavor of orange juice at breakfast, sweet and pure and delicious and just right. Now think of the flavor of juice after you have taken a bite of your pancake with syrup. The flavor is gone. It becomes this wet, slightly tart drink in your mouth. The sweetness of the pancake totally overwhelms the natural sweetness of the juice. It becomes nothing and its value is stolen by the artificial maple syrup.

That’s my life. I’m spending too much time worrying about the syrup and not near enough time just tasting the sweetness in the glass. My goal this week is to enjoy the sweet. I want to enjoy my time as a mom and not just endure it.

Life is sweet. Taste it.

What is with Me and Cookies (for steve but the rest of you can read it.)

Last night I was craving cookies really, really badly. It's been over a week for me now since I had any, longer since I have baked any. When I crave cookies I don’t just crave eating them. I want to bake them, my finger itch to grab my mixer and create a batch from scratch. I want the noise, the mess, the smell, the taste, the whole experience.

For me, cookie baking is an event. (I live a pretty low key life, in case you couldn’t tell.) I usually have a child helping me (and the others all fighting over the chance.) I carefully consider what kind to make but most often its plain chocolate chip. It takes an hour in the afternoon, when my energy is up for a bit. I love every stage of the process. I love the feel of the dough in my fingers as I test the consistency, the sweetness on my tongue when I sneak a taste.

Cookies are my thing, more than scrapbooking, more than photography, more than reading. I have an emotional connection with the process. I need to feed that emotional space more than I really need to eat the cookies. There is comfort in a cookie. It’s small, and easy. It doesn’t intimidate. it’s simple and familiar. They never bore you because there is always another cookie to try. Other things I do make me happy, but the happiness from a mouthful of freshly made cookie dough is a very tangible thing. You can touch it. You can hold it in your mouth and savor the moment. When it’s gone, there’s more cookie dough. My childhood is wrapped up in that moment, my good times with my kids, my success. It’s all there, sweetly melting away, full and rich and full of promise of more good things to come. A good batch of cookies will turn an afternoon around. So when I’m feeling fidgety, sad, lonely, grumpy, I make cookies. They center me and make it so I can finish the day.

There’s a lot in a little chewy circle, isn’t there?

Reprograming

I started a new diet Monday. I wasn't excited about it. To be honest, I was working on being happy where I was. Ok, so it wasn't happening, but I was working on it. Steve has been unhappy with his weight so he decided he was going to try this new program. It cost us over $100 to buy the package and I guess at $60 each to lose weight it's cheaper than Weight Watchers.

But it's not like Weight Watchers at all. Instead of me deciding what I'm going to eat, I have a list of exactly what I can eat and when I should eat it. Instead of flexible points, I have a set menu. Ok, so there is variety within that menu, but not a lot. For example, we must have a protien at each meal. steve gets 4oz I get 2oz (cooked weight.) we can have chicken, turkey, and fish, every once in a while we can choose beef but we can't have as much. For three meals we get a carbohydrate. Now in this diet, we get potatoes and white rice as well as oatmeal and a whole bunch of grains that no one actually eats like barley, millet, strange African grains that can only be purchased in specialty stores in large cities and not anywhere near Bedlam, ID. (which is not a real town, btw. Bedlam is a state of mind and only achieved after years of motherhood.) Veggies three meals and Fruits three meals and yet once again, the aproved list has like five each that we can actually find here and the rest are weird things that are only added to round out the cards and make it look like the diet has lots of variety to it.

Why do these diets think they can get away with this? really, who actually ate Jicama until Dr. Atkins came along? millet? do you ever say to yourself "now what I"m really craving is a nice big bowl of millet!" So you get this big ol' list with your diet of all the food that you are allowed and at first glance you think "hey! this is good! I can have potatoes!" then you start reading the list. I don't live in Alabama, I doubt i can buy okra around here.

This diet also treats salt like a posion. we must avoid it at all costs. It's crazy. So all of the sudden, the potatoes which looked wonderful two minutes before now don't look so good. ever eaten potatoes without salt? yeah. exactly.

No dairy. aparantly "Milk is for making baby cows fat." since I am neither a baby nor a cow nor intending to get fat, aparantly milk is not for me. however, since I have a baby who needs to be fat eating from what I eat, I have added milk back into the diet. She was starting to get more demanding and asking for food more, so I decided I needed to be sure I had enough of the right nutrients for her.

So after all that complaining you may ask "why the heck are you still doing this crazy diet? why didn't you sell the thing back and go buy yourself something cute with that money?" Because I've lost five lbs in five days. Because my sweetie who is perfect with the diet and never cheats has lost ten. Because I have to be seen in a bathing suit at the beach in five weeks. Because I'm tired of my shadow looking like someone took scalloped deco scisors to the side of it.

I'll stick with it for awhile longer and see where it gets me. It's amazing what you can do with chicken, oatmeal, potatoes, and egg whites. ;)

Self Portrait

I was taking pictures of my new photo arangement in my living room, to post on my blog of course, because who is crazy enough to take pics of their livingroom unless they are going to post the pics on the internet? This somehow degenerated into me taking pics of the boys, then matt sitting on my lap and taking pics of us, then I had a pile of my kids around me and I was still pressing the button myself.



They had a fun time even if I did get a bit over nervous with them actually holding my camera. we were using pretty wide angles so our faces are a bit distorted. Poor Rilla should have been looking down.

avoidance techniques

so the Creating Keepsakes Idea Annual calls are going out. Yes, I submitted to that one. If I were to go read the Message Board at 2ps, I would know what letter the calls are on. Aparantly they are going alphabetically backwards by first name. could they draw out the torture even longer here??? I know I'm not getting a call for this. CK hates me. They think my kids are ugly or something. (which just shows how bad their taste is because my kids are dang cute.)

so here I sit avoiding 2ps. I'll probably be heading over there soon. just because I wanted some torture for the day.

This is the last major call I've submitted for. I really can't take the pressure anymore. PK doesn't like me anymore, the other mags never liked me. Scrapbooking has become this big cometative race I'm losing. So I'm pulling out of the race for awhile. I need it to be fun again. I have scrapbooked a few pages but they aren't magazine worthy and it doesn't bother me. Now I just need to host a crop. That's a great way to bring some fun back. :)

Now you've got the evidence . . .

I have my quirks. Some of them I fully admit to and some of them I don't even know I have until faced with them in the moment. I had no idea how quirky I could be until this afternoon at two o'clock. The city was in the process of resurfacing our street. We had to park a block away and carefully go around the machines and construction workers. I had all five kids with me, we were packing 15 lbs of books (yup, five kids times three books each, plus mommy's, that's a lot of weight.) I was carrying the baby. It was akward. But I looked at that freshly laid blacktop and I smiled.

It was perfect. One great big stretch of road without blemish. All smooth and perfect for bike riding and rollerskating (with proper supervision of course.) No more pot holes and funny bumps. That new road makes me happy.

It made me so happy I didn't mind a bit that I had to walk a block from my car to my house with five kids twice in one day. The kids watched as they laid the other lane of road. They were fascinated by the big machines, the big dumptruck contiuously dumping loose blacktop into the machine that rolled it out on to the road like a big green pasta machine. The smell of the tar permeated the air and it got several degrees warmer as those machines drove past. The big steam roller chugged by leaving steam rising from the blacktop in curls of mist, a freshly baked chocolate cake of a road. beautiful.

so there you have it. I am crazy and I am quirky. excuse me while I go admire our new street again.

Another Milestone

Sigh, they grown so fast. Elizabeth passed another baby milestone yesterday: she turned off the computer for the first time. It's a rite of passage . . . and a great big annoyance to mommy.

see, now I have good reason to not do anything important on the computer and just stick to the internet. I never know when this thing will get shut off on me.

hey, I can rationalize anything.

Games

not an inspiring title, but we'll have to go with it today.

While Steve and I were cleaning out one corner of the basement yesterday to get it ready for the stair move (yea!) I ran across our old Mancala game. We bought it when Sarah was five and somehow in ended up in one of the "someday" boxes in one of our moves. (someday as in someday I'll get it unpacked.) We love that game. Sarah could play it at five and she learned basic strategy very quickly. Over the time the game has been lost, we have had a computer game for kids with a version of Mancala on it, so all the kids are familiar with the rules of the game. They were all so excited to see it when I brought it upstairs. Sarah and Joshua have been playing each other and Joshua is holding his own pretty well. they seem to trade off who wins, which is good for the peace in our house! I'm glad I found it now. Summer will be so much better with Mancala around.

Now I just need to get a hold of a Polyanna game. Pollyanna is the game I grew up with. My daughter is the fifth generation of Hilliam women to play the game. Sounds impressive doesn't it? Really, Pollyanna is just an example of how games become traditions. Every family has a game they all play and they all enjoy. Parents teach their children and somehow this family game becomes a tradition. That's Pollyanna for us. It's based on the rules of Parcheesi, like Sorry and Trouble. Four players take their pieces around a board by rolling dice. It's a perfect game because you can visit so easily around the board. There's time to talk and laugh (and since you can send other players pieces back home, burn off a little steam.) It has stayed mostly a game for the women, although my brothers do play. We usually fill the board with Mom and sisters first. Whenever we all get together a game is absolutely on the schedule. Yup, I need a board. I have three girls now. Just enough to start our own Pollyanna tradition. (I call red!)

Paranoia

ok, so my blog is down. everybody else using blogger is still up, but mine is down. Kinda gets a girl thinking she's not wanted around here ;)

so anyway, this is a test to see if posting something will bring it out of the black hole of the internet.

update on life: we finally have some funds to finish our basement. I'm really, really excited. I dont' like my house that much and finishing the basement and the changes that will go with that, will make a huge, huge, huge difference. Yea us!

first order of business: moving the stairs. that should be a story!

Wanted: new life

I need some structure! My life is crying out for it. I’m getting the bills paid, but what should be extra is slipping away and I am not getting the things I really want with it. My time is slipping away and I’m not getting the important stuff done. My body is not slipping away—it’s expanding. I need structure; I need to take control.

I’ve decided to give myself a schedule. It does not include me sitting here for hours every morning (because somehow this is happening.) It does include me working out every day with a simple walk on the high school track. It does include me making time to scrapbook again with no pressure and no thought to what calls are out. It does include me doing what I can get our remodeling started. And most of all, it includes me getting a handle on our budget. I want a cute house, dang it! It’s not going to come to me, I have to make it happen.

So now I have a check from PK and I have to decide if I want to buy myself photo equipment or a new entertainment center. Right at this moment, I’m leaning toward the entertainment center!

Toes! adorable yummy toes!

aren't they cute?  those are sweet little preschooler feet.  Now I'm wishing I had taken more pics of my kids with their feet in the sand.

Bravery beyond measure

Not the baby.  she loved the water.  thought it was just wonderful.   the bravery part is from me actually posting a picture of myself on the internet.  yes, people, I'm starting the diet immediately.  I may call plastic surgeons and ask about liposuction, too.  : p

who took that picture?

why, yes, it was Steve!  He has to remind me every time he takes a good one just like that.  "hmmm, who took that one?  Me!"  cracks me up.   isn't she beautiful?  Marilla is one of those rare people that photographs better than real life.  You can see her personality in the image and when you stop her for just a moment you can see just how beautiful her features are.  big, big brown eyes and lips that any woman would be jealous of. 

gotta love the beach

this is my favorite photo so far.   I love the way Steve is carefully helping Matt to overcome his fear of the waves.  I love the way they are holding hands.  you can see Matt is nervous, with his arm flexed and tense and his little back leaning away from the water just a little bit.  He's holding on to his daddy as tightly as he can, but he's going to be brave and let the waves get him because he trusts his daddy will never let him be hurt.

baby chasing

I have help now with my baby proofing. Libby learned to crawl on our vacation. (That's where I've been for a week. CA. it was fun. I might tell you about it later, and there will be pictures.) Now I get to chase Little Bit around the house pulling things out of her mouth. How does one even baby proof with big kids around? I can't take away all the marbles and legos for the next two years. that wouldn't be fair at all.

my blog may turn into one sentence appeals for sanity. won't that be fun to read?

the checkbook is under the gerbil

I have to tell a story.

Many moons ago, I owned a medium sized purse. not too huge but it had absolutely no divisions or seperations in it of any kind. it was one big pocket. I liked this purse. Easy to carry and easy to dump stuff in.

One evening I went to a crop with my friend Becky. I was thirsty and needed a drink, so I bought a soda in a bottle at a convience store. I had a lot of other much more imporant things to carry with me, so I dumped my soda in my purse. Becky had no idea it was in there until about an hour later when I pull this soda bottle out. She laughed, "are there small animals in there too? are you sure there's not a rabbit in that thing?"

I have never lived this moment down. Over time my purses have gotten smaller (I buy cheap ones, you remember, so I tend to change every couple of years) and they are always measured by how big of an animal I can carry.

I think this current one could fit two house mice. So what do you think, Becky, should I test it?

Stereotype Spotting

Sometimes, the stereotypes do work. My parents had friends over for dinner yesterday, an older couple and the gentleman wore a hat. Matty (who's been very friendly with adults lately) immediately recognized what that hat meant. "You're a farmer man! You're a farmer man!" he said, over and over until he was acknowledged. and you know what? He was a farmer. Matt also knew that this meant that his new friend would have animals, so he went into a long explanation of the animals that his friend would have on the farm and all the sounds they would make. "you have a cow, and chickens, and ducks, and pigs, and horses . . ." It's amazing what a boy can learn from "Old MacDonald."

oh and the lady offered to take Matt home with her so he could be her little boy. He was very disapointed to learn that I wasn't going to let him do that. After all, she has a cat.

The consequences of marrying a man who can sing

I do love listening to Steve sing. He has a wonderful voice and one of my favorite things is listening to him compose a new song in the next room. I love the soft mumble with the real lyrics drifting in and out as he works them into the melody. (He composes like Seal, with guitar and melody first, then lyrics.)

There is a price though. Everyone somehow thinks that because my husband can sing, I can sing. I don't know, maybe they think talent is somehow just sitting there on his lips waiting for me to catch it when I kiss him. Nevertheless, there is no excuse for my mother. The woman has heard me sing in public. Usually at her own insistance. (there are not enough rollyeyes in IMland for this.) I can carry a tune ok on my own, in my own house, when there is no one around. But I'm still far from someone you would go out of your way to listen to. you stick me in front of a group of people and I sound like Peter Brady singing "changes." not a lovely sound. So back to my mother. She's decided she wants me to sing. Well, she wants my family to sing. Since I have a husband and children with lovely voices, I get bundled in to it, too. Oh, and not only do we get to sing, we get to sing in Japanese. In church. In front of her Ward. 250 people. I'll bet you are all (all five of you, woohoo! numbers are going up!) wishing you were me today, huh? ;)

the fun way to learn photoshop

Today: invisible pot roast

I ought to be funnier.

I live a pretty crazy life. I have five kids who do very nutty things. They take after their father. (Yes, Steve, that would be you.) The lick dogs, they dump crayons down furnace vents, they sit on their siblings heads. They are all out funny. I should be able to tell their stories. Sometimes I manage it in my scrapbooks. Mostly I manage a nice paragraph using all my vast journalism experience from the eighth grade newspaper. I believe they let me do the lunch menu.

Instead, you, my dear blog readers, (all three of you,) get to be subjected to my personal angst, my musings on crazy stuff and my crazy compliment fishing expeditions. What’s on the lunch menu today? More posting of silly pictures that make me look like I’m trying out for a job with a commercial photographer? More discussion on laundry? (What a thrill!) More pointless essays on strange topics? NAFTA? (That’s for you, Steve.)

Actually, (I’m sure you’ve been waiting for a point here. I don’t have one.) today my angst is directed to my invisibility. I read several blogs. Many of them are written by people I’ve actually worked with in the past. I briefly was on the same design team with Donna Downey. (Alert! Alert! It’s a dropped name! Watch your toes!) There are a few others I worked with as well. They moved on a lot sooner than I did, and to much bigger things and I didn’t keep in touch. So I read their blogs in my voyeuristic style and never post. I’m too afraid they will look at my comment and say “who the heck is that?!” yup. Invisible.

Just wish it worked like that at home, ya know? Who’s going to do the laundry? Hmmmmm, no mom here. Guess someone else will have to pick up the slack.

Planning ahead

We have a Pottery Barn close to me now!  woohoo!!  can i just tell you how exciting this is?  I've been waiting for three years.  ok, so it's very small, but it's there and it has all the photo frames and albums.  These adorable little albums were on sale for $7 each.  i bought six.  i am hoping to finally get some photography clients and they will be my proofing albums (availble for purchase at a mark up, of course.)

Something for me

here's a few new things that are making me happy.  I bought myself a new purse.  I didn't settle for whatever walmart purse was the the least ugly.  I saved my money and went to a real department store.  I paid over $20 (it was on sale, too.)  I like it.  it's probably a bit on the small side, but then my purse tends to just get stuffed with receipts when it's big anyway. 

Good Day

It was a good day today. Busy but good. This morning, I drove a friend to Boise to visit her baby. He’s in the NICU of one of the hospitals there. She gave birth three months early and today was only the second time she has gotten to see her baby. She barely got a glance of him the day he was born before they wisked him off on Life Flight to a different hospital. When I visited with her Saturday evening, she was excited to tell me that she got to touch him. He was three days old and she was excited to get to let his tiny hand curl halfway around her finger for a few minutes. Today she was so happy when she told me the hospital practices skin on skin therapy when the babies are strong enough. So happy to have those moments that I take for granted with my own baby.

I got to have some fun on my own while she was at the hospital. I bought a few things for myself and found some fun deals. That was nothing. I got to help my friend. She got to visit her son. That’s what made it a good day.

what else i've been up to

i forgot to mention in my previous post that i also got to photograph a wedding recently. it was a wonderful experience and very good for my confidence as a photographer. it was a very relaxed affair with fifteen guests in a tiny little church called the Cowboy Angel Church out on a ranch in the Idaho mountains. this of course explains the groom in black wranglers ;) we do that up here in Idaho.

another favorite picture from the wedding

back on the bandwagon

Thanks to !Ali I have a new desktop image. A very cool Veer walpaper image that tickled me.

I haven't written much lately because life got busy. that's very unusual for me. we pretty much have a routine. In the last week and half my husband managed to total the van (thank goodness for air bags is all I'm saying about that. too scary to think about.) We got a new (to us) van. a nice one with double sliders. (yea!) my children had end of the school year concerts and activities. Sarah won second place and $50 in the community talent contest. This week has had it's ups and downs.

my baby is almost crawling. my computer time is going to shrink drastically in the coming week

in which Amy pretends she's cool

create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.

i think i prefer the visited states map to the visited country map. after all, the visited country map looks really lame with only one red country on it. yes, folks, i haven't even managed to see Canada or Mexico. I have however, spent a lot of time in Hawaii, so now intead of thinking i'm a loser you can all be jealous now.

don't worry, this is one of those self deluding posts. it would help if you kept your eye rolling to when my back is turned. thanks.

Ordinary Household Magic

They say it really does exist, that it is out there somewhere; you just have to find it. I’ve been looking for over a decade and I still haven’t found it. It’s very elusive, that bottom of the laundry hamper.

I try to do two batches of laundry a day. I still very seldom see the bottom of the hamper. There will be this brief glimpse as I transfer the clothes out to the basket, but when I come back in the bathroom, the bottom is gone again. It’s like the widow’s cruse of oil Elijah gave her, never empty.

My laundry also seems to have a magic power of spreading itself all over. (as I wax into simile again) like gas in a confined space, it spreads to fill the volume it’s given. Socks appear in corners, ironing (that really doesn’t get ironed, I just pretend) drapes itself across the couch. I do try to keep it contained, never happens though.

I keep looking forward to someday when I have a laundry room in the basement and a family room to fold the clothes in. My living room will stay clothing free. Except for the socks. Socks never seem to be where they belong. Oh, and even with a pretty laundry room, I fully expect to never find the bottom of the hamper.

now this is freedom

this.  she felt like having flowers in her dress, so she put them there.  She didn't stop to see if the neighbors were looking.  She didn't consider if it was cool.  To be honest, I doubt if she stopped to think of what her mother would say.  She thought they were beautiful. 

When we laughed in delight at her escapade, she laughed with us, completely free to be herself without the fetters of "style" tying her down. 

And she is stylin'.  This is true style.  This is freedom.

Just have to add that

. . . I’ve got an inferiority complex. The latest issue of Paperkuts came yesterday with my article on page 22. so I looked through the whole magazine and then came back again to my article. Yuck. Seriously. The rest was better. Sadly, the part of the mag I liked least was my part. Makes me want to write an apology to the readers of PK. Sorry ladies. If I ever get another chance I’ll try to do better.

. . . . Matt’s latest thing when he’s sad is to say “not again!” I don’t know what repeated thing he’s protesting but he says it in the most despondent voice. This morning he seemed to be sad that he woke up again. I am an evil mommy and I think it’s cute.

. . . . my parents are coming over this afternoon so I can help them with a computer program. They have a laptop so they are portable. I have a crappy van that I can’t leave town in, so I am not. I’m hoping they don’t notice what a mess my house is.

. . . I am going to start a new diet. It will be called the “Full Length Mirror” diet. Just the sight of myself in the mirror should turn my appetite. Now I just need to buy the mirror.

They are home. 

we had a huge party and the party is over and we left mom the mess.  aren't we good kids?

big day at our house

Today’s the day. After 18 months in Japan, my parents fly home. Actually they’ve been on planes for 12 hours already. It takes almost 24 hours to fly home from Japan. It’s a long ways. My whole family is excited, but I’ve been getting a kick out of my sister Cathy calling all her sisters to keep us updated on the countdown. We have managed to talk our sister Rebecca into staying an extra day (She’s driving from Portland today and staying for the weekend.) My husband has a long day of work today. I’m already worrying about him getting off work in time. I don’t want to miss the big welcome home at the airport.

Bet you don't know what Giraffes have in common with Louis Carrol

We had no idea the variety of noises among wildlife until Matt clued us in. Silly us, we thought giraffes didn’t make much noise at all, if any. And deer! They are pretty silent creatures. Kangaroos, rabbits. All quiet. This is not the case apparently.

Matt first showed us his talent for discovering the hidden sounds in animals with his giraffe obsession that started twelve months ago. He would name animals by the sound they made. Since no one told him what a giraffe “said,” he found out for himself. He would raise his little dimpled arm over his head and say “deeedle deeedle deedle!” yup. That’s a giraffe, or a deedle if you’re Matty.

Now deer and kangaroos and bunnies are another matter altogether. Those all say their own names. “Deerdeerdeer” really quickly and clipped.

Who knew my son was such a genius?

Where did you see that elephant?

I dragged my husband to a beginning photography class last night. Not that I need one but I thought it would be fun for him to have one. Mostly so he would take pictures. It might be kind of fun to have pictures of me around. Of course, I say this as a person who hasn’t owned a full length mirror in her entire life. I may change my mind later.

Sweetie, head and shoulders only please!

when all is said and done . . .

it's the end of the day that is the best. The house is quiet. I can hear the hum of the refridgerator, the quiet rush of the furnace, and the little noises as the children shift in their beds.

another thing in my life I love. that makes twelve.

crafty me

yup.  i'm sewing again.  the straps are interchangable and revesable.  I'm so impressed with myself ;) please note that the strap on the left matches my new belts. it's revesible with the red being on the other side. you'll have to imagine that.

i may have to get serious tomorrow again. i've been entirely too perky the last few days. i blame it on www.dooce.com very funny stuff. she's got a potty mouth sometimes. just a warning for those who care.

Copy Cat

with all the listing going on on scrapping blogs, I felt a strong urge to make my own. not that I could make a blog with the same list theme as someone else, because that would ruin my delusions of being a creative, original person. can't have that. So here's my list and we're all going to pretend that it's brilliant. Thanks.

Ten Reasons I love my life:

1. Baby raspberries. the. cutest. thing. ever. even if her daddy doesn't think they are so cute when I have her blow them at him over the phone. He's nuts.

2. Three year old brain. "I'm a monster!" "ahhh, a monster!" "haha, I"m not a monster anymore. I'm Bubba."

3. carmel chocolate shortbread. enough said.

4. spending the day in my pjs.

5. Rebel XT. yet again--enough said.

6. Paper. lost of paper. pretty paper in pretty colors. in stacks. and alphabets. metal ones, rub on ones, sticker ones. RIBBONS! striped ribbons. lovely pretty ribbons. sigh. good times.

7. Nine year old with her daddy's musical talent. she's very shy unless you stick a microphone in front of her, then she belts it out likes she's the next Charlotte Church.

8. a six year old who thinks whatever he's just figured out doing is the coolest thing ever, be it riding a bike, jumping rope, or wrestling.

9. Blogs. current adiction that is totally affecting my writing voice in case you couldn't tell. just be glad my current addiction isn't Jane Austen.

10. five year old voice. high and sweet, completely masking the emotional hurricane blowing just under the surface.

11. the brown eyed, smoothed voiced, sexy man that shares this life with me. absolutely the best part.

so it's 11 things. I have a good life. you'll just have to be jealous. ;)

wedding pic

another wedding picture

 

Wedding pics

I got to take pictures at my BIL's wedding last month.  I loved the oppertunity.  I loved that I got to do digital pictures with my new digital camera.  (Love, love, love my digital, btw) but I am not loving the post process.  I'm not sure what kind of work to do when.  It's hard to look at a picture and say, "yes, they will want that" or "nope, tosser!"  The reception pictures are what's holding me back.  do they want five pictures of them dancing when there was only the one song?  do they want pics of just the guests hanging around?  how about the cake table?  I'm trying to think of the pics I would have liked to have had from my wedding and I'm coming up blank.  got the formals done, its just the candids left.  sigh.  and my brother wants me to do his candids for him when he gets married next month, lol!  I think I need the full version of Photo Shop so I can do the whole batch processing thing. 

this is Matt

He's my three year old and a very goofy boy.  He loves to pretend he's a dinosaur or a monster.  His favorite song is twinkle twinkle little star.  he loves to twist my hair around his fingers (i am thinking hair will become a life long obsession with this kid) He wants to be just like his older brother and sisters.  He begs to make cookies with me.  he throws fits and refuses to be potty trained, so as much as I love him, I really just want to ship him off to someone else for a week to potty train this kid.   get it done and over with.  I'm not very good at it anyway.  I have heard all the tricks, but they don't help if you're not consistent.

so,anyone want a three year old for a week?  he's really cute.  but please don't bring him home until he's potty trained!

Just a reminder

recently there was a discussion on a favorite message board of mine that dealt with how the trend frenzy and our own feelings of inadiquacy robbed us of creativity in our scrapbooking. I want to save what I posted, because I think there will be moments when I forget the feelings I had reading that thread. I will need to remind myself. So this post is for me. my reminder of what is important:

I'll tell you all where I am. Lost somewhere between obsessed with being published and not caring at all. it swings wildly from day to day. However, I have completely tossed all pretense at being inspired by what others are doing in the industry. I don't look at on line galleries. I read the articles in the mags and enjoy the layouts but I don't make note of very much. I found my inspiration outside scrapbooking. I found something that makes me want to cut paper again. I went back to what I loved and what I was passionate about outside of paper and photos. It has had an interesting side affect. I'm not following the trends as much. It's a very freeing feeling.

My pages haven't changed that much. I'm not sure most people could even see a shift. I've just changed my attidude and it's made a big difference.

I'm going to just keep walking past the popular girls and not pay them much attention, just like I did in High School. I'm going to do my own thing. If that means I never get published again, then so be it. I'm tired of chasing the brass ring when I have a gold one already in my hand.

Last

My baby is my last baby. Logically, I know that this is right for us. Five is all we can really support. I know I would not be able to be the best mommy for more. So it’s good that we are done. I’m glad I will never have to be pregnant again and go through labor again. I will throw a party when I buy my last bag of diapers, which will be sometime in the next couple of years. Last is good.

However, there are moments when my heart aches because she is my last. This is the last baby that will love me unconditionally. The last baby that will reach for me first. The last baby that will cuddle into my shoulder in complete security. The last baby that is wholly mine.

So, if I hold her more than is necessary, and give in to her cries a little more often, it’s only because I will have no more babies to hold. I am seeing how last babies are so easy to spoil. There will be no more babies to spoil later, so we must give all that love to this one.

I’m holding my last baby as she sleeps right now. I could lay her down, but how many more chances will I have to hold a sleeping seven and a half month old baby who loves me unconditionally?

all fixed

it has come to my attention(thanks Jess) that my blog was only allowing registered members to post. i changed the settings so anybody can post now. wouldnt' want to miss those fawning messages from my rabid fans . . . what? oh right. don't have any rabid fans. ok, then my friends can post. which is good. I like my friends. I do not like, however, spammers and meanies, so those people can go post on someone else's blog.

I think this is enough posting for today. more tomorrow. I might even feel philisophical. I'm sure you can't wait, can you?

sewing on fabric (almost)

I used my sewing machine for something other than paper!  yea me!  I like them.  yes, it's trendy but I think that's what I like best about them.  I'm so funny though, when something turns out well, I'll get so excited about it, I'll want to make more.  Since i really don't need any more belts (this makes three) I think I'll resist.  Unless of course, someone else wants one.   Anybody want a belt? LOL! : )

talking to myself

yup. that's what i'm doing. so, for my own reference here's steve's blog address: http://stevesstuffnthings.blogspot.com/

yes, i have turned him to the dark side. bwwwhahaaahaaaaahaaa!

it's going to take awhile to figure out the best size for these photos.  This is my baby.  isn't she beautiful?

just playing with pictures

so I finally set up some free webhosting of my photos. I did photobucket so, you know, if my blog happens to be the most fabulous, linked thing out there I'll know because my photos will be replaced with that annoying photo bucket out of bandwidth message. see, method to my madness. it helps to think these things through all the way. I could just add a ticker to my blog, but that would be too pedestrian and needy, don't you think? (of course, I"m kidding and I really do want to add a site ticker. just need to find one. gotta Google.)

Peeping Amy

I feel a bit like a voyeur recently. I have found the blog sites of some of my scrapbooking heroes. I have no connection to these women besides the emotional connection I have had to their journaling over the years. They don’t know me and I have no earthly right or need to read about their lives. But I do anyway.

I love reading their stories. Many of them are wonderful writers, witty and touching without being maudlin. I get inspiration from reading their entries. But then again, what good is that “inspiration,” it’s nothing but another rationalization for reading them. I know that they put the blogs out there so they can share their stories, and I doubt that they would mind knowing that I read them. Even so, I find myself feeling guilty sometimes, like I am hiding in the bushes outside their living room and peeking into their lives.

I have yet to leave a comment on Ali or Cathy’s website. (If you are a scrapbooker you know who I’m talking about. If you aren’t, well, you wouldn’t know them even if I gave you a last name.) I would like to but I feel like the nerd trying to butt into the cool kids circle. I suppose leaving comments is the polite thing to do. It’s what I would want readers of my blog to do. If something makes you think, or strikes you as funny, leave a comment. I love comments. I still can’t bring myself to comment on theirs. I just peek in their windows. The voyeur with the binoculars.

three year old are weird

funny matt conversation last night. we're trying to potty train. not going so well because mommy is nothing if not inconsistant. anyway, I tried to talk him through the process again.

Mommy: what do you do when you need to go potty? you say "mommy, I have to go potty." now you say it.

Matt: Mommy I have to go potty.

Mommy: good. what do we do next?

Matt: (something that had nothing to do with potty)

Mommy: ok, we go in the bathroom and we pull your pants down. Then what?

Matt: Happy Birthday!!

tunnel vision

I think I might be slightly overprotective as a mother. On the whole, I pretty much let my kids do what they feel like doing and mostly this does not involve blowing things up or breaking international law, so we're ok.

They do like to dig though and this is where my problem lies.

There is an empty lot behind our house that has been sitting empty for years. Its very uneven and would be almost impossible to build on. We've sort of let the kids use it to play. Other neighborhood kids play there too. This I don't mind. It's the digging of the forts that drive me crazy. Great big holes in the ground that could have been used to film the movie Holes.

Recently they developed two seperate big holes. These needed to be connected of course, hence the tunnel. Yes, that's right. A tunnel. Joy. dug by children and barely big enough for 10 year olds to fit through. A cave-in waiting to happen.

I have declared a moritorium on tunnel building and required that the present tunnel be filled in or opened up. I'm sure their daddy would be very disappointed in me, stiffling their creativety like that.

I'm still not letting them tunnel.

Thinking a bit too much like Juliet

Yes, up late again. Really baby needs to learn to sleep.

So, I’ve been pondering the meaning of names lately. Not the sort of meanings you find in a baby name book or find nicely framed at a mall kiosk, but the real meaning. The deep whys. (well, about as deep as I get anyway.)

In the west we name our children according to sound. It’s the feel of the name on the tongue, the cadence across the ear that draws us to the names we give our babies. There is some pretence at meaning; mothers who search baby books for the fake meanings the publishers have adopted so all names sound good. All gifts, blessings, and royalty. Deep under the sound we have associated certain sounds with certain things. K’s are strong, long E’s are feminine. Sounds go through fads as much as color or fabric. B’s and N’s, J’s and Y’s, they all have children carefully grouped on elementary school rolls all together because their mothers all liked the same sound textures on their tongues, half of whom have their names jumbled and spelled creatively so they can be the only Jordyn in class and end up being one of five.

I can trace most of my children’s names to the Hebrew meanings, but it doesn’t make their names more authentic. I don’t speak Hebrew. My ancestors have not spoken it for eons if they ever did. So the words mean nothing really, a simple definition on the page in the bible. It’s told to me; I don’t know it. It’s not part of my being the way I understand the meaning of “apple.”

A celebrity named her daughter Apple. Little Apple ought to be turning a year now. I remember the surprise and the buzz she created with her creatively ordinary name. I hated it. It’s not a name; it’s a word, a thing. But why not Apple? What is an apple? Round, juicy, the symbol of health and vigor, a sign of sexuality, of taste, of humility and plenty, a good word. A hard name to accept, because in Western culture, it’s not a name.

A name can’t be a word . . . unless you come from Asia.

I had friends in college who were from Taiwan and Hong Kong. They had Chinese names but very few went by those names. They would choose American names to go by, Amy, Dianna, John, traditional names that have lost all meaning beyond their shape. Yet their Chinese names have meaning. They are part of the language. Their true names mean something beyond the sound of the word; it means something other than the person who wears the name, giving it power and connection to the language itself. A woman is not just Hua, she is a flower, fragrant and beautiful.

I suppose in a way, I might be jealous of this connection. My name has always been so ordinary, so common. I tuned it out as a teenager because when I did hear my name called, it was not me being paged. Since then there has been a small sense of disconnection to my name, as if it wasn’t fully mine. I have slowly gathered it back to myself, but there are moments when it still rings just a bit false in my ears.

Suddenly, I’m wondering where I am going with this. I don’t know. At one am when the house is quiet, my mind is free to wander, so it does. Maybe all I’m trying to say is I’ve read a little too much Ursula Le Guin lately. I’m too caught up in Earthsea, yearning for my true name.

Or maybe I’ve just stayed up too late and I should go to bed with my little girl who’s name means beautiful according to my heart.

Wrapped up

My three year old has me quite literally wrapped around his finger. Yesterday, he sat on my lap and reached around to my hair and began playing with it, twisting around and around like he always does. “I love your hair, Mommy.” He says.

That’s the best reason I’ve ever had not to cut it.

the swift passage of time

So, it’s my birthday. I’m sure you are now expecting a long essay on the meaning of age and time in our lives. Nope. Not feeling philosophical this morning. I hope to have a lovely day, sporting my new yellow jacket about town. Might get my haircut, might just run some errands. I will get time off from the mommy job. I’m looking forward to that.

. . . . and the rain comes down

It’s raining. Thank goodness. The winter was so dry this year. It’s nice to see some water. Living in a desert can be an interesting thing. It’s easy to forget when I can look out and see green lawns and tall trees, when the river is so close I can see the tree line from the top of my hill. It’s winters like we had that remind me of where I live.

Strange that we can all live in such a dry place but still take water for granted. I watch it run down my sink as I brush my teeth knowing that there is more behind it. I shower without thinking about how much I am using. I don’t use a dishwasher, but I would if I owned one.

So today, I will watch the rain and remember what a precious thing it is. I will enjoy the smell of wet pavement and the feel of the cool, humid air. I will give my children umbrellas and send them out to enjoy this gift we have been given today.

I love the rain.

look mom, one hand!

I suppose it might be nice if i had an entry for march. since most of my computer time is spent with a baby in one arm, it's kind of difficult to get up the initiative to compose thought provoking, fabulous essays on my life (because all my blog entries are fabulous, right?)

surprisingly, i'm getting pretty good at one handed typing. I'm now faster than my husband is with two hands. i think this actually is a reflection of how much time i sit here feeding a baby at the computer, but i don't want to think about that.

so anyway, if you happen to discover a misspelled word or typo, blame it on my hand restriction. it has nothing to do with an inherent inability to spell. really. i can spell. really.

oh, and the lack of capitals? definitely the one handed typing. have you ever tried to capitalize while typing with one hand? exactly.