On Family Court & Deadbeat Moms

I cried after court this week.

Yes, we went to court again.  Yes, we're dealing with Abby's mom again.  And yes, I don't talk about it too much for a bunch of reasons, not the least of which is that this is a very personal family issue and I grew up in a house where family issues stay in the family; and also because this is Abby's story and she has an opinion and feelings and I sometimes don't feel like it's my place to parade the junky parts of our life out there for God and everyone.

This time it's different and I'm not sure why, but it feels like I have to get this all out and off of my chest because I feel like I'm suffocating.  For years my most fervent desire was to find someone like me. Someone who is busy raising a kid that's not her own; a kid that she has no responsibility to other than the responsibility she puts on herself. Someone who understands me when I say that raising this child that I didn't grow - who I've really only known for about 7 years (and they've been tumultuous at best, downright impossible at the worst.) is easily the single hardest thing I've ever done.  Sometimes it feels like teaching an old dog new tricks and that it's easy to disassociate because she isn't "technically" my responsibility.

I don't have a legal stake in Abby, but I'm emotionally and financially involved in all of the things that make up the nuances of her life.  I've scrimped and saved for her. I've laid awake in bed at night discussing her. I've agonized over her decisions and I've celebrated her successes. I taught her how to shave her legs and I explained periods and boys and sometimes I advise her on her hair or make-up. I buy her school clothes and supplies and I make her lunch every morning. I drive her to and from sporting events and play practice; I cheer in the bleachers and in the auditorium. I go to her band concerts and her choir concerts and her plays and her volleyball games. I advocate on her behalf. I take her to the doctor's office and schedule her follow-up appointments and pay her co-pays. I sat outside and prayed during every single therapy session she's ever had. I wash her clothes and try not to make a huge deal out of her incredibly messy room.  I make sure she is fed, that she goes to church and learns about God and that she understands that her brother is not her half-brother, he's just her brother. I make sure she has chores so she learns responsibility, but I try to let her be a kid because she grew up really, really fast and all these years later, Uriah and I still mourn that; but we don't regret it.

In the grand scheme of all of the times we went to court on Abby's behalf - on our family's behalf - this week's hearing was very, very minor.  And yet it was huge.  Abby's mom requested a change of child-support.  She wants to pay nothing.  She wants to have zero financial obligation to her child.  No child support. No medical bills. And the sad thing is that, based on her "testimony," the court will probably side with her because that's actually how the law is written.

And so I cried in the car, in our driveway, after biting my tongue for the half-hour hearing because I wanted to scream to everyone in that court room that this whole thing is a big farce; it's a classic case of fake and dodge responsibility, which, based on our involvement with Abby's mom, is pretty much her M.O.

The thing is: Uriah and I can obviously support Abby without any financial help.  We've been doing just that for the 5 years that Abby's been living with us full-time.  And in 5 years, we haven't pursued help from any outside financial institution - not for medical help, not to enforce the child-support obligation that is owed. This doesn't make us awesome nor does it put us on a pedestal; it simply means that we've buckled down and done what needed to be done to raise our kids, it just so happens that one of our kids technically only belongs to half of us. But I don't believe in that technicality.  I worked a full-time job to make sure Abby's summer programs and after-school care were paid for. I made sure she got to her Girl Scout meetings and that she was able to play volleyball. And now I stay at home as much for Finn as I do for Abby, to drive her to and from school; to make sure she has dinner ready before she goes to her activities and that she doesn't have to eat alone or be home alone or have the obligation of constantly watching out for her little brother. I stay home so that there is always someone here for her when she needs us - phone call from school for tylenol for cramps or a request to stay after and be picked up later to get some work done.

I don't want to have to explain to Abby that once again, her mom wants nothing to do with her. She doesn't call, she doesn't write, and now she doesn't even want to support her from afar.

And I don't want to rant about Deadbeat Moms. I don't want to feel like the justice system is slanted - and not in our favor, which it doesn't need to be but I do think that it needs to be more balanced in general. I don't want to have to deal with the anxiety and annoyance that comes with listening to someone sing her own song of "poor me."

And so I cried in the car. It's easy to be frustrated when things don't look the way we'd like them to or when things follow a path that we think isn't the correct path.  I cried to clear my mind and my heart so that I can see more clearly this new path that is opening up to us.

I can see a little more clearly now that this has potential to be just what we didn't know we always needed.

I cried after court this week.

Yes, we went to court again.  Yes, we're dealing with Abby's mom again.  And yes, I don't talk about it too much for a bunch of reasons, not the least of which is that this is a very personal family issue and I grew up in a house where family issues stay in the family; and also because this is Abby's story and she has an opinion and feelings and I sometimes don't feel like it's my place to parade the junky parts of our life out there for God and everyone.

This time it's different and I'm not sure why, but it feels like I have to get this all out and off of my chest because I feel like I'm suffocating.  For years my most fervent desire was to find someone like me. Someone who is busy raising a kid that's not her own; a kid that she has no responsibility to other than the responsibility she puts on herself. Someone who understands me when I say that raising this child that I didn't grow - who I've really only known for about 7 years (and they've been tumultuous at best, downright impossible at the worst.) is easily the single hardest thing I've ever done.  Sometimes it feels like teaching an old dog new tricks and that it's easy to disassociate because she isn't "technically" my responsibility.

I don't have a legal stake in Abby, but I'm emotionally and financially involved in all of the things that make up the nuances of her life.  I've scrimped and saved for her. I've laid awake in bed at night discussing her. I've agonized over her decisions and I've celebrated her successes. I taught her how to shave her legs and I explained periods and boys and sometimes I advise her on her hair or make-up. I buy her school clothes and supplies and I make her lunch every morning. I drive her to and from sporting events and play practice; I cheer in the bleachers and in the auditorium. I go to her band concerts and her choir concerts and her plays and her volleyball games. I advocate on her behalf. I take her to the doctor's office and schedule her follow-up appointments and pay her co-pays. I sat outside and prayed during every single therapy session she's ever had. I wash her clothes and try not to make a huge deal out of her incredibly messy room.  I make sure she is fed, that she goes to church and learns about God and that she understands that her brother is not her half-brother, he's just her brother. I make sure she has chores so she learns responsibility, but I try to let her be a kid because she grew up really, really fast and all these years later, Uriah and I still mourn that; but we don't regret it.

In the grand scheme of all of the times we went to court on Abby's behalf - on our family's behalf - this week's hearing was very, very minor.  And yet it was huge.  Abby's mom requested a change of child-support.  She wants to pay nothing.  She wants to have zero financial obligation to her child.  No child support. No medical bills. And the sad thing is that, based on her "testimony," the court will probably side with her because that's actually how the law is written.

And so I cried in the car, in our driveway, after biting my tongue for the half-hour hearing because I wanted to scream to everyone in that court room that this whole thing is a big farce; it's a classic case of fake and dodge responsibility, which, based on our involvement with Abby's mom, is pretty much her M.O.

The thing is: Uriah and I can obviously support Abby without any financial help.  We've been doing just that for the 5 years that Abby's been living with us full-time.  And in 5 years, we haven't pursued help from any outside financial institution - not for medical help, not to enforce the child-support obligation that is owed. This doesn't make us awesome nor does it put us on a pedestal; it simply means that we've buckled down and done what needed to be done to raise our kids, it just so happens that one of our kids technically only belongs to half of us. But I don't believe in that technicality.  I worked a full-time job to make sure Abby's summer programs and after-school care were paid for. I made sure she got to her Girl Scout meetings and that she was able to play volleyball. And now I stay at home as much for Finn as I do for Abby, to drive her to and from school; to make sure she has dinner ready before she goes to her activities and that she doesn't have to eat alone or be home alone or have the obligation of constantly watching out for her little brother. I stay home so that there is always someone here for her when she needs us - phone call from school for tylenol for cramps or a request to stay after and be picked up later to get some work done.

I don't want to have to explain to Abby that once again, her mom wants nothing to do with her. She doesn't call, she doesn't write, and now she doesn't even want to support her from afar.

And I don't want to rant about Deadbeat Moms. I don't want to feel like the justice system is slanted - and not in our favor, which it doesn't need to be but I do think that it needs to be more balanced in general. I don't want to have to deal with the anxiety and annoyance that comes with listening to someone sing her own song of "poor me."

And so I cried in the car. It's easy to be frustrated when things don't look the way we'd like them to or when things follow a path that we think isn't the correct path.  I cried to clear my mind and my heart so that I can see more clearly this new path that is opening up to us.

I can see a little more clearly now that this has potential to be just what we didn't know we always needed.

What does the fox say? {14 Days of Valentines: 2014 Edition}

When it comes to holiday gift-giving, I think everyone has their favorite time of year. When we lived in Kansas City and my husband had a job that allowed us more flexibility around the holidays, my mother-in-law loved to fill Christmas socks with special things that were unique to each of us. We'd open them on Christmas morning under her tree - showers not necessary, coffee a plus - little things that she'd picked up throughout the year.  These socks could include any number of items: socks (I know, the irony!), our favorite candy, a CD, small bottles of booze that you get on airplanes.  You never knew what you'd be surprised with on Christmas morning.  One year I got pajamas - honest to God, blue satin pj's stuffed into my Christmas sock.

Some people really like Easter, and I'll admit, I like to fill Easter baskets for my kid's, too - colored eggs, malted milk ball eggs, peeps and a hollow chocolate bunny, a kite (although we should all disregard the fact that Finn's kite still sits unopened in our coat closet...maybe this spring we'll get around to pulling that thing out. Or maybe I'll just re-gift it back to him at Easter this year.  He's 3, he'll never know and I'll have saved myself $5.).  Whatever the holiday - Christmas, Easter, Halloween, Arbor Day - I always give my kids a book.  I like to give books as gifts.  You can never have too many books.  Until, of course, you move and half your moving van is boxes of books and those boxes are really heavy and your husband threatens to burn them if you don't whittle down your "collection" only he uses words like: "hoarder" and "obsessive" and "certifiable."  You know, really hurtful words. 

Anyway...I like Valentine's Day. A lot. A really lot. I love to come up with an idea and then find a little gift for my small humans for each of the days leading up to Valentine's Day because I don't love them enough the rest of the year, apparently. 2012 was the inaugural year.  Finn had no idea what was going on, being 1-1/2 and all, but he drank his apple juice and ate his teddy grahams happily.  Abby thought it was pretty cool and was excited most mornings to see what her small gift was and then telling us over dinner how excited she was to get her small gift, so I like to think we coasted in with a win, especially since I flew by the seat of my pants that year. Then last year I felt as though I should take it up a notch.  I'm hopeful I didn't peak too soon, because last year was so much fun to plan. 

This year I struggled a bit and enlisted the help of my (somewhat non-creative) husband.  At first I thought maybe we'd do 14 days of Love Song lyrics, but scraped that idea when I realized the only songs Finn knows are Wagon Wheel and T-Swift's We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. And also, my husband couldn't contribute any good love songs...a quick google search of Celine Dion is all it would have taken, obviously. Reference: Titanic theme song.  The Power of Love. Because You Loved Me. And about a million more chart toppers than Whitney ever had.

And then the light bulb went of in my otherwise dark mind.  Finn does know another song.  He knows that stupid fox song that is all the rage on YouTube. And it occurred to me that we could totally do that for a theme with all kinds of animals for each of our days.  And then it occurred to me that we could totally get a real dog for the "What does the dog say?" day. I almost peed my pants from canine-procurement-excitement. I looked on the world wide interwebs for the perfect addition to our family (one that didn't cost $1800; I knew my husband would throw up in his mouth if I suggested that dog. In its defense, it was cute and it came with "real genuine papers suitable for framing," so I guess that justified the cost.).  I made lists of doggy items needed. I even gave our new almost-dog a name! And then my husband said no and my hopes and dreams were burst like a hot dog in the microwave.  As it stands, he didn't say no-forever, he just said no-for-right-now; nobody wants to potty train a dog in Northern Minnesota in February.  Valid point, Mr. Hefter.  We shall wait until spring (maybe).

So here are this year's 14 Days of Valentine's (minus the climactic Get A Real Dog Day) in no particular order, because mostly, I still have to go to Target (and probably the Shopko) to procure a few extra items.

• Zebra: "Our love is not black and white, Valentine...it's read all over!" {books about love}
• Elephant:  "I"m nuts about you, Valentine!" {Peanut m&m's}
• Cow: "Will you be my mooost special Valentine?" {Chocolate milk for breakfast}
• Bear: "I love you beary much, Valentine!" {Teddy Grahams}
• Worm: "You wormed your way into my heart, Valentine!" {socks}
• Unicorn:  "Valentine, you make every day magical!" {Sprakly pencils & crayons}
• Chick: "Why did the chicken cross the road? To ask you to be mine, Valentine!" {chicken nuggets}
• Fish: "I'm hooked on you, Valentine!" {Goldfish crackers}
• Bee: "Just buzzed by to see if you'd be my honey, Valentine!" {Honey Nut Cheerios}
• Dog:  "What we have is puppy love, Valentine!" {Puppy Chow}
• Seahorse:  "Sea how much I love you, Valentine?" {bubble bath & body wash}
• Sheep: "You can count on me for sweet dreams, Valentine!" {new jammies}
• Moose:  "You make moosest days fabulous, Valentine!"  {Moose Tracks ice cream}
• Fox: "Happy Valentine's Day!" {new Valentine's Day shirts}

When it comes to holiday gift-giving, I think everyone has their favorite time of year. When we lived in Kansas City and my husband had a job that allowed us more flexibility around the holidays, my mother-in-law loved to fill Christmas socks with special things that were unique to each of us. We'd open them on Christmas morning under her tree - showers not necessary, coffee a plus - little things that she'd picked up throughout the year.  These socks could include any number of items: socks (I know, the irony!), our favorite candy, a CD, small bottles of booze that you get on airplanes.  You never knew what you'd be surprised with on Christmas morning.  One year I got pajamas - honest to God, blue satin pj's stuffed into my Christmas sock.

Some people really like Easter, and I'll admit, I like to fill Easter baskets for my kid's, too - colored eggs, malted milk ball eggs, peeps and a hollow chocolate bunny, a kite (although we should all disregard the fact that Finn's kite still sits unopened in our coat closet...maybe this spring we'll get around to pulling that thing out. Or maybe I'll just re-gift it back to him at Easter this year.  He's 3, he'll never know and I'll have saved myself $5.).  Whatever the holiday - Christmas, Easter, Halloween, Arbor Day - I always give my kids a book.  I like to give books as gifts.  You can never have too many books.  Until, of course, you move and half your moving van is boxes of books and those boxes are really heavy and your husband threatens to burn them if you don't whittle down your "collection" only he uses words like: "hoarder" and "obsessive" and "certifiable."  You know, really hurtful words. 

Anyway...I like Valentine's Day. A lot. A really lot. I love to come up with an idea and then find a little gift for my small humans for each of the days leading up to Valentine's Day because I don't love them enough the rest of the year, apparently. 2012 was the inaugural year.  Finn had no idea what was going on, being 1-1/2 and all, but he drank his apple juice and ate his teddy grahams happily.  Abby thought it was pretty cool and was excited most mornings to see what her small gift was and then telling us over dinner how excited she was to get her small gift, so I like to think we coasted in with a win, especially since I flew by the seat of my pants that year. Then last year I felt as though I should take it up a notch.  I'm hopeful I didn't peak too soon, because last year was so much fun to plan. 

This year I struggled a bit and enlisted the help of my (somewhat non-creative) husband.  At first I thought maybe we'd do 14 days of Love Song lyrics, but scraped that idea when I realized the only songs Finn knows are Wagon Wheel and T-Swift's We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. And also, my husband couldn't contribute any good love songs...a quick google search of Celine Dion is all it would have taken, obviously. Reference: Titanic theme song.  The Power of Love. Because You Loved Me. And about a million more chart toppers than Whitney ever had.

And then the light bulb went of in my otherwise dark mind.  Finn does know another song.  He knows that stupid fox song that is all the rage on YouTube. And it occurred to me that we could totally do that for a theme with all kinds of animals for each of our days.  And then it occurred to me that we could totally get a real dog for the "What does the dog say?" day. I almost peed my pants from canine-procurement-excitement. I looked on the world wide interwebs for the perfect addition to our family (one that didn't cost $1800; I knew my husband would throw up in his mouth if I suggested that dog. In its defense, it was cute and it came with "real genuine papers suitable for framing," so I guess that justified the cost.).  I made lists of doggy items needed. I even gave our new almost-dog a name! And then my husband said no and my hopes and dreams were burst like a hot dog in the microwave.  As it stands, he didn't say no-forever, he just said no-for-right-now; nobody wants to potty train a dog in Northern Minnesota in February.  Valid point, Mr. Hefter.  We shall wait until spring (maybe).

So here are this year's 14 Days of Valentine's (minus the climactic Get A Real Dog Day) in no particular order, because mostly, I still have to go to Target (and probably the Shopko) to procure a few extra items.

• Zebra: "Our love is not black and white, Valentine...it's read all over!" {books about love}
• Elephant:  "I"m nuts about you, Valentine!" {Peanut m&m's}
• Cow: "Will you be my mooost special Valentine?" {Chocolate milk for breakfast}
• Bear: "I love you beary much, Valentine!" {Teddy Grahams}
• Worm: "You wormed your way into my heart, Valentine!" {socks}
• Unicorn:  "Valentine, you make every day magical!" {Sprakly pencils & crayons}
• Chick: "Why did the chicken cross the road? To ask you to be mine, Valentine!" {chicken nuggets}
• Fish: "I'm hooked on you, Valentine!" {Goldfish crackers}
• Bee: "Just buzzed by to see if you'd be my honey, Valentine!" {Honey Nut Cheerios}
• Dog:  "What we have is puppy love, Valentine!" {Puppy Chow}
• Seahorse:  "Sea how much I love you, Valentine?" {bubble bath & body wash}
• Sheep: "You can count on me for sweet dreams, Valentine!" {new jammies}
• Moose:  "You make moosest days fabulous, Valentine!"  {Moose Tracks ice cream}
• Fox: "Happy Valentine's Day!" {new Valentine's Day shirts}

On my mind:

I cleaned the fish tank today.  It was disgusting.  Almost as disgusting as my wedding ring, which I also cleaned today after suffering a minor heart attack because Finn hid it - or rather, he "buried a treasure" yesterday while we were making Christmas cookies and I didn't realize it was missing until this morning when I went to put it on and it was in neither of the places I usually keep it when I take it off.  Luckily I found it, but not before standing on the edge of a very imminent panic attack, complete with sweaty palms, racing heart and spots in front of my eyes.  Back to the fish tank.  I think this is exactly why we do not have a dog. Dogs require a lot more work than a bath every couple of weeks and feeding them when you happen to remember.  I happen to remember to feed the fish about twice a week.  And still he does not die.

I've been doing a 5-day health/fitness challenge - not very long, but it's about accountability and getting back on track, two things that I've desperately needed lately.  Today is Day 4 and I feel pretty good.  I've been to the gym 3 days in a row, as my screaming calves will attest to, and I've been drinking so much water I've been considering new paint colors for both bathrooms in our house due to the insane number of times I'm in there daily.  I haven't peed this much since I was pregnant with Finn.  But I feel less "snacky," which is pretty awesome because Snacks is my middle name.

I need to work on giving my son a larger variety of lunch options.  That's not true, actually, I give him plenty of options, he just veto's everything in favor of pb&j.  Every single day for lunch.  And usually his request for dinner, too, but I abstain.  Pb&j is a lunch item only.  Today he was forced to have pb&honey having consumed the last of the jelly yesterday and Lord, how he suffered.  He ate it, but he was not happy about it. I checked Pinterest for some toddler-friendly lunch options.  I have some ideas for tomorrow's lunch and I guess that's what matters. I try not to force him to eat everything on his plate, but I do require he tries everything.  So far it hasn't blown up in my face and I feel like he eats until he's full and that's good enough for me.

Abby starts her Christmas break after school today and she doesn't go back to school until January 6th. Once again we'll be going through some growing pains as we work out a new daily "normal."  When I say "we," I mostly mean Abby and me.  She's going to want to "sleep-in and hang out with her friends" because "she's on break" and I still need to come up with some chores and things for her to do because - seriously? - no one is sloughing off during a 17-day break. Things can get cleaned and organized (like closets and her room, which doesn't even look like I stepped foot in it a couple of weeks ago).  I continue to be blow away by how smelly and scatter-brained 14 year old girls can be.

I have 3 different kinds of Christmas cookie dough in the refrigerator right now.  Yesterday, as Finn and I were making some more sugar cookies (piggies that double as grizzly bears and westie dogs - all present and accounted for at the birth of Christ, I guess) I kept wondering why I only make these particular cookies at Christmas time.  Does it make them more special?  I suppose so, but would they be less special if, say, I made them in June?  Does their "once a year" status mean that I have a free-pass to snack on all of them?  That's where my brain has been in the past, and why I made the dough to begin with - because it's Christmas, and at Christmas I make chocolate drops and gingerbread men and Russian tea cakes - but now I'm staring at the dough and thinking of all the cookies they're going to make and wondering just who is going to eat all of those cookies?!  I think I will make them and put them in the freezer and we will have some Christmas in June this year.

We have a Christmas tree up, but have yet to decorate it.  Uriah's been busy and working late.  Finn's been up early and subsequently going to bed early, so we haven't all been awake and at home at the same time.  It looks sparkly and it smells good and if we don't get any decorations on it this year, I guess that will have to be good enough for me.  I've been moving our little elf around the house each night.  It's fun for Finn to look for him and the first thing he says when he snuggles into bed with us each morning is: "Let's go find where Reginald is this morning!"  It's usually about 6:30, numbers I don't really recognize as an actual time.  We wait about a half an hour before getting up, but no one is asleep.

It's nearly dinner time and I have been looking forward to dinner all day - I got some salmon at the grocery store this morning after I went to the gym (it seems so healthy to say that, but truly, I was on the treadmill thinking about Christmas cookies and I decided I needed something really healthy for dinner tonight to balance those sweet thoughts).  I'm going to roast some veggies to go with it - Brussel's sprouts, sweet potatoes and grapes.  Finn lost his skittle's for a minute (the witching hour before dinner) so instead of losing my own mind, I redirected him and we counted potato chunks and Brussel's sprouts.  I had to remind myself to use phrases like: take one away, add two more, how many total.  It's the only "preschool" stuff we did today, but there was snuggling and playing his current favorite game: dark in the tent (wrap a blanket around us - the tent - and then turn on and off the flashlight) and he sang most of the words to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, so I'm considering it a successful learning day. Abby's asked to stay the night at a friend's house after I already had everything ready to go into the oven, so I guess we'll have salmon and veggies for lunch tomorrow, too.

I cleaned the fish tank today.  It was disgusting.  Almost as disgusting as my wedding ring, which I also cleaned today after suffering a minor heart attack because Finn hid it - or rather, he "buried a treasure" yesterday while we were making Christmas cookies and I didn't realize it was missing until this morning when I went to put it on and it was in neither of the places I usually keep it when I take it off.  Luckily I found it, but not before standing on the edge of a very imminent panic attack, complete with sweaty palms, racing heart and spots in front of my eyes.  Back to the fish tank.  I think this is exactly why we do not have a dog. Dogs require a lot more work than a bath every couple of weeks and feeding them when you happen to remember.  I happen to remember to feed the fish about twice a week.  And still he does not die.

I've been doing a 5-day health/fitness challenge - not very long, but it's about accountability and getting back on track, two things that I've desperately needed lately.  Today is Day 4 and I feel pretty good.  I've been to the gym 3 days in a row, as my screaming calves will attest to, and I've been drinking so much water I've been considering new paint colors for both bathrooms in our house due to the insane number of times I'm in there daily.  I haven't peed this much since I was pregnant with Finn.  But I feel less "snacky," which is pretty awesome because Snacks is my middle name.

I need to work on giving my son a larger variety of lunch options.  That's not true, actually, I give him plenty of options, he just veto's everything in favor of pb&j.  Every single day for lunch.  And usually his request for dinner, too, but I abstain.  Pb&j is a lunch item only.  Today he was forced to have pb&honey having consumed the last of the jelly yesterday and Lord, how he suffered.  He ate it, but he was not happy about it. I checked Pinterest for some toddler-friendly lunch options.  I have some ideas for tomorrow's lunch and I guess that's what matters. I try not to force him to eat everything on his plate, but I do require he tries everything.  So far it hasn't blown up in my face and I feel like he eats until he's full and that's good enough for me.

Abby starts her Christmas break after school today and she doesn't go back to school until January 6th. Once again we'll be going through some growing pains as we work out a new daily "normal."  When I say "we," I mostly mean Abby and me.  She's going to want to "sleep-in and hang out with her friends" because "she's on break" and I still need to come up with some chores and things for her to do because - seriously? - no one is sloughing off during a 17-day break. Things can get cleaned and organized (like closets and her room, which doesn't even look like I stepped foot in it a couple of weeks ago).  I continue to be blow away by how smelly and scatter-brained 14 year old girls can be.

I have 3 different kinds of Christmas cookie dough in the refrigerator right now.  Yesterday, as Finn and I were making some more sugar cookies (piggies that double as grizzly bears and westie dogs - all present and accounted for at the birth of Christ, I guess) I kept wondering why I only make these particular cookies at Christmas time.  Does it make them more special?  I suppose so, but would they be less special if, say, I made them in June?  Does their "once a year" status mean that I have a free-pass to snack on all of them?  That's where my brain has been in the past, and why I made the dough to begin with - because it's Christmas, and at Christmas I make chocolate drops and gingerbread men and Russian tea cakes - but now I'm staring at the dough and thinking of all the cookies they're going to make and wondering just who is going to eat all of those cookies?!  I think I will make them and put them in the freezer and we will have some Christmas in June this year.

We have a Christmas tree up, but have yet to decorate it.  Uriah's been busy and working late.  Finn's been up early and subsequently going to bed early, so we haven't all been awake and at home at the same time.  It looks sparkly and it smells good and if we don't get any decorations on it this year, I guess that will have to be good enough for me.  I've been moving our little elf around the house each night.  It's fun for Finn to look for him and the first thing he says when he snuggles into bed with us each morning is: "Let's go find where Reginald is this morning!"  It's usually about 6:30, numbers I don't really recognize as an actual time.  We wait about a half an hour before getting up, but no one is asleep.

It's nearly dinner time and I have been looking forward to dinner all day - I got some salmon at the grocery store this morning after I went to the gym (it seems so healthy to say that, but truly, I was on the treadmill thinking about Christmas cookies and I decided I needed something really healthy for dinner tonight to balance those sweet thoughts).  I'm going to roast some veggies to go with it - Brussel's sprouts, sweet potatoes and grapes.  Finn lost his skittle's for a minute (the witching hour before dinner) so instead of losing my own mind, I redirected him and we counted potato chunks and Brussel's sprouts.  I had to remind myself to use phrases like: take one away, add two more, how many total.  It's the only "preschool" stuff we did today, but there was snuggling and playing his current favorite game: dark in the tent (wrap a blanket around us - the tent - and then turn on and off the flashlight) and he sang most of the words to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, so I'm considering it a successful learning day. Abby's asked to stay the night at a friend's house after I already had everything ready to go into the oven, so I guess we'll have salmon and veggies for lunch tomorrow, too.

Tuesday, I feel as though you are the new Monday.

We are still in our pajamas.  The bells have already rang lunch and I can't believe this morning is gone.  The sun is high today but the wind is bitter.  All of my plants are reveling in some Vitamin D in the kitchen; I think I should join them, maybe curl up in a sunbeam on the kitchen floor and just forget the world.  It has finally warmed up to zero degrees and I am waiting once again for laundry pipes to thaw so I can do a load or 2 of laundry.  My camera will not connect to my computer and it is full of fun pictures from celebrating Abby last night (she turns 14 today and Uriah works late tonight, thus the celebration yesterday).  My frustration level is high - especially since I just dumped my camera on Sunday and it worked fine and today it decided to crap its pants.  It probably doesn't help that our computer is old and probably plotting to give up its ghost (which means I have to back everything up to the external hard drive today or risk an even bigger melt-down if it does die).  I guess I will have to write about having a 14 year old tomorrow, but in case you need a dose of the Birthday Girl today, you can find some stellar Abby posts here, here, and here.

Fourteen.  Does this somehow feel bigger than 13?  Yes, I believe it does.  Inching and ticking closer to complete independence.  College visits just around the corner.  Boy-girl parties on her radar.  I think we are all of us in this house aging quicker than I find comfortable.

Finn is whining because he has to clean up the mess that he made in the living room (game chips all over, Christmas books strewn from one end to the other, and every single cushion and pillow pulled off of the couch). Cabin fever has set in.  10 minutes outside might not be so bad, if it were just a few degrees warmer. His ploy to get me to help him when I use my firm voice: "You're scaring me.  Nobody wants to be my friend today."  I can assure you, the sad eyes and the pouty mouth do not work on me.  And if I have to repeat "You put the red chips in the red bag, the blue chips in the blue bag, the yellow chips in the yellow bag, and the green chips in the green bag," one more time, I may have to go out into the frigid back yard myself just to adequately cool off.

Maybe aging and preschool and college aren't such bad things after all...

We are still in our pajamas.  The bells have already rang lunch and I can't believe this morning is gone.  The sun is high today but the wind is bitter.  All of my plants are reveling in some Vitamin D in the kitchen; I think I should join them, maybe curl up in a sunbeam on the kitchen floor and just forget the world.  It has finally warmed up to zero degrees and I am waiting once again for laundry pipes to thaw so I can do a load or 2 of laundry.  My camera will not connect to my computer and it is full of fun pictures from celebrating Abby last night (she turns 14 today and Uriah works late tonight, thus the celebration yesterday).  My frustration level is high - especially since I just dumped my camera on Sunday and it worked fine and today it decided to crap its pants.  It probably doesn't help that our computer is old and probably plotting to give up its ghost (which means I have to back everything up to the external hard drive today or risk an even bigger melt-down if it does die).  I guess I will have to write about having a 14 year old tomorrow, but in case you need a dose of the Birthday Girl today, you can find some stellar Abby posts here, here, and here.

Fourteen.  Does this somehow feel bigger than 13?  Yes, I believe it does.  Inching and ticking closer to complete independence.  College visits just around the corner.  Boy-girl parties on her radar.  I think we are all of us in this house aging quicker than I find comfortable.

Finn is whining because he has to clean up the mess that he made in the living room (game chips all over, Christmas books strewn from one end to the other, and every single cushion and pillow pulled off of the couch). Cabin fever has set in.  10 minutes outside might not be so bad, if it were just a few degrees warmer. His ploy to get me to help him when I use my firm voice: "You're scaring me.  Nobody wants to be my friend today."  I can assure you, the sad eyes and the pouty mouth do not work on me.  And if I have to repeat "You put the red chips in the red bag, the blue chips in the blue bag, the yellow chips in the yellow bag, and the green chips in the green bag," one more time, I may have to go out into the frigid back yard myself just to adequately cool off.

Maybe aging and preschool and college aren't such bad things after all...

Cold & snow & turkey & elves

We hosted Thanksgiving again this year - the 2nd year in a row - and we continued with the Turducken theme of last year.  Another theme that was repeated?  Snow.  And lots of it.  We picked people up from and dropped them off at the airport in snow.  About 20+ inches of snow in a two-day period.  And our snow blower is broken (who has a broken snow blower in Minnesota in December?!).  So, yes - shoveling the old-fashioned way was necessary!

It's common knowledge that I revoke my own license when the snow starts falling in earnest and this year is no different.  I can toodle around town a little bit once the roads have been cleared, but I get major-highway and hill anxiety if I have to do more than run to the grocery store.  So what possessed us to live in an are that gets a million zillion snowflakes a year?  Well, it is beautiful (from the warm confines of my home!).  And I love the summers here - not too hot, not too cool.  I'm like Goldilocks of the north land - it's mostly just right.

Anyway, as I dig through my pictures of the past week with my family I will share.  It was...epic.  So much food, 19 people for Thanksgiving dinner, a round of illness (not in any way related to the dinner), more hooch than you can shake a stick (or a beer can) at, pies that didn't get eaten and now sit in my freezer, Jac's first steps, birthday cake, maple ice cream, loads and loads and loads of laundry.  I am equal parts happy and exhausted and still picking myself up from the week.

Our elf, Reginald VanWinkle, made his appearance this week.  In spite of my planning and calendar, he was a few days late.  Not that it mattered too much, Finn doesn't even know the days of the week yet.  It's a more laid back year for RVW this year.  Last year he had a lot to do, which you can check out here and here.  This year he's more into hiding and snowball fights and reading.

I had big plans for preparing my kids for Christmas this year, but every good intention got over-taken by planning for Thanksgiving and now my energy level is spent.  We do have an Advent wreath this year, and we light a candle and read a little prayer at dinner time each night.  I did not do 24 Days of Christmas Books this year, in spite of the treasure trove of new books I found that I bought at the end of the season last year.  Instead I have them spread all over the coffee table in the living room so we can read them and look at the pictures whenever we want.  And Finn does so, often!  We've been taking advantage of the Christmas movies on Netflix and hot cocoa with marshmallows.

Today Finn and I are going to make some sugar cookies for our religion kids tomorrow.  Abby's fighting a cold and stuffy nose, so she get's to stay far away from any food preparation/dishes because I do not want those germs spreading.  We've been listening the The Best Christmas song list ever (remember when mixed tapes/CDs were so cool to make?!).

I'm hopeful that some Santa cookies will put me in the Christmas spirit (and not the napping spirit!) because I still need to figure out some Christmas cards this afternoon and I found a paper mache ornament project that I think Finn would have fun with.  Honestly, though...the Christmas movies and couch are definitely calling my name...it is the weekend, after all!

We hosted Thanksgiving again this year - the 2nd year in a row - and we continued with the Turducken theme of last year.  Another theme that was repeated?  Snow.  And lots of it.  We picked people up from and dropped them off at the airport in snow.  About 20+ inches of snow in a two-day period.  And our snow blower is broken (who has a broken snow blower in Minnesota in December?!).  So, yes - shoveling the old-fashioned way was necessary!

It's common knowledge that I revoke my own license when the snow starts falling in earnest and this year is no different.  I can toodle around town a little bit once the roads have been cleared, but I get major-highway and hill anxiety if I have to do more than run to the grocery store.  So what possessed us to live in an are that gets a million zillion snowflakes a year?  Well, it is beautiful (from the warm confines of my home!).  And I love the summers here - not too hot, not too cool.  I'm like Goldilocks of the north land - it's mostly just right.

Anyway, as I dig through my pictures of the past week with my family I will share.  It was...epic.  So much food, 19 people for Thanksgiving dinner, a round of illness (not in any way related to the dinner), more hooch than you can shake a stick (or a beer can) at, pies that didn't get eaten and now sit in my freezer, Jac's first steps, birthday cake, maple ice cream, loads and loads and loads of laundry.  I am equal parts happy and exhausted and still picking myself up from the week.

Our elf, Reginald VanWinkle, made his appearance this week.  In spite of my planning and calendar, he was a few days late.  Not that it mattered too much, Finn doesn't even know the days of the week yet.  It's a more laid back year for RVW this year.  Last year he had a lot to do, which you can check out here and here.  This year he's more into hiding and snowball fights and reading.

I had big plans for preparing my kids for Christmas this year, but every good intention got over-taken by planning for Thanksgiving and now my energy level is spent.  We do have an Advent wreath this year, and we light a candle and read a little prayer at dinner time each night.  I did not do 24 Days of Christmas Books this year, in spite of the treasure trove of new books I found that I bought at the end of the season last year.  Instead I have them spread all over the coffee table in the living room so we can read them and look at the pictures whenever we want.  And Finn does so, often!  We've been taking advantage of the Christmas movies on Netflix and hot cocoa with marshmallows.

Today Finn and I are going to make some sugar cookies for our religion kids tomorrow.  Abby's fighting a cold and stuffy nose, so she get's to stay far away from any food preparation/dishes because I do not want those germs spreading.  We've been listening the The Best Christmas song list ever (remember when mixed tapes/CDs were so cool to make?!).

I'm hopeful that some Santa cookies will put me in the Christmas spirit (and not the napping spirit!) because I still need to figure out some Christmas cards this afternoon and I found a paper mache ornament project that I think Finn would have fun with.  Honestly, though...the Christmas movies and couch are definitely calling my name...it is the weekend, after all!

Cleaning out the cobwebs.

I cleaned Abby's room this week.

You're probably asking yourself: isn't she 13?

Yes, she is.  Actually, she will be 14 next month.  And yes, sometimes I still have to purge her room of all the things that make her a prime candidate for an episode of Hoarders.

When she was younger - because I never really lived with her when she was little, just younger - and after she came to live with us full-time, I would clean her room about every other month or so.  Somewhere towards the end of that six week time period I could no longer live with the tiny bits of paper on her floor or the piles of dis-robed Barbies or the 824 Littlest Pets that were living in every nook and cranny in her room. When I was working full-time, we'd all pitch in and clean the apartment on Saturday - Uriah and Abby did their parts while I worked Saturday morning, and then I got my chores done Saturday afternoon while Uriah worked, sometimes enlisting Abby's help, depending on what she'd done with Uriah in the morning.  Usually her task was to clean her room, because for the most part, she contained her scatter to her own room.

We lived in a small apartment, which I love to this day, and even though we haven't lived there for years I still sometimes get homesick for our first little nest.  The three of us were crammed together in two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen not much bigger than a closet, and I'm sure I would have lost my mind a million times if her mess was everywhere.  It still managed to trickle its way down the hall and onto the kitchen table or into the living room, but she learned that those messes in the "common areas" had to be cleaned up before she moved on to something new.  She could usually get by for a few days by telling me that she had a game going with her Polly Pockets or Littlest Pets and that was the reason for the urban sprawl on her bedroom floor.  And I usually let her get away with it for a few days.  But at some point, she needed to clean up her room (usually by Saturday afternoon), and that usually involved her shoving all manner of papers, pencils, markers, books, toys, broken crayons, and dolls into her closet, into toy bins, and under her bed.  I think her goal was to shove her stuff anywhere she could get it out of my sight, but still hang to each and every small scrap of paper, nub of crayon, dried out marker.

There always came a breaking point, usually when I'd open her closet only to be bombarded by the most awful smell and an avalanche of crumpled paper pieces and all-around junk.  That's when the big black garbage bags came out and purging began the crying started.  She would sit in the doorway and sob over every little piece of paper, every broken game piece, every item of clothing she had out-grown.

It took a few years for me to really wrap my mind around why she holds onto things with such a tight fist. When she came to live with us, the decision was immediate.  There was no taking her back to her Illinois home and packing a suitcase or her toys; she got in our car and we drove to Kansas City.  She was wearing a pink and orange dress and sandals and I hung that dress in the back of her closet and she never wore it again.  Of course, when we got to our apartment, she had her "Kansas City clothes" and her "Kansas City toys," but up until that point those were kind of like special things because she didn't get to play with them that often - really only twice a month.  The clothes weren't her regular clothes - her "Illinois clothes," and the toys weren't the ones she'd grown up playing with and had to leave behind.  It was a long time before we got a box with any of her belonging.  She was so happy when that box finally, finally came years later, I think she had anticipated something like that coming for her for so long, but I could tell she was disappointed when she opened it; she'd outgrown everything in the box and I think the feelings she had about that stuff were mixed.  Good memories and bad memories equally wrapped up in Barbie clothes and books and smells from a past life.  While she was an every-other-weekend kid, we'd refer to her "Kansas City home" and her "Illinois home," two completely different lives that she'd had to balance between.   It took years before we were able to stop differentiating between the two and when she talked about "home," we knew she was referring to us.

So when I was cleaning her room and throwing away garbage bags of paper pieces and crayon nubs and pencil shavings; as I loaded up bags with outgrown t-shirts and shorts that will not fit next summer, I had to breathe deeply and remind myself how far we've come.  The stuff in her room?  It's just her stuff and most of the junk is there because she's a teenager and she can be really, really lazy (What? Take that piece of paper to the garbage can all the way across the room?  Nah, I'll just shove it here, under my bed.). And while she's certainly no longer worried about being pulled from the life that she has, old habits die hard and she still hangs onto things - because then she can say she has something from when she was little (which, for all intents and purposes, is 4th grade). I know it pains her a bit when she asks what her first words were or when she learned to walk. I don't have those answers.  But I can tell her that she's been head-strong for as long as I've known her.  I can repeat the "I am an American and I have rights" story until we are crying from laughing so hard.  It's funny now, and I can see so much of her strong personality already bubbling up when I look back on her childhood with us - short as it has been.  (For the record: I was not laughing when she asserted her "independence" not long after moving in with us and that was her argument for not having to listen to me).

She's well-adjusted. She has plans for the future and when she talks about where she'll spend her holidays when she's in college (less than 4 years from now), I have no doubt that she'll come home.  I will even help her clean out her dorm room at the end of her freshman year.  It will probably require lots of big black garbage bags and that's okay.





Certainly not the oldest picture I have of Abby, but pretty close.  The first Christmas cards we sent out as an every-other-weekend family, November 2007:

I cleaned Abby's room this week.

You're probably asking yourself: isn't she 13?

Yes, she is.  Actually, she will be 14 next month.  And yes, sometimes I still have to purge her room of all the things that make her a prime candidate for an episode of Hoarders.

When she was younger - because I never really lived with her when she was little, just younger - and after she came to live with us full-time, I would clean her room about every other month or so.  Somewhere towards the end of that six week time period I could no longer live with the tiny bits of paper on her floor or the piles of dis-robed Barbies or the 824 Littlest Pets that were living in every nook and cranny in her room. When I was working full-time, we'd all pitch in and clean the apartment on Saturday - Uriah and Abby did their parts while I worked Saturday morning, and then I got my chores done Saturday afternoon while Uriah worked, sometimes enlisting Abby's help, depending on what she'd done with Uriah in the morning.  Usually her task was to clean her room, because for the most part, she contained her scatter to her own room.

We lived in a small apartment, which I love to this day, and even though we haven't lived there for years I still sometimes get homesick for our first little nest.  The three of us were crammed together in two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen not much bigger than a closet, and I'm sure I would have lost my mind a million times if her mess was everywhere.  It still managed to trickle its way down the hall and onto the kitchen table or into the living room, but she learned that those messes in the "common areas" had to be cleaned up before she moved on to something new.  She could usually get by for a few days by telling me that she had a game going with her Polly Pockets or Littlest Pets and that was the reason for the urban sprawl on her bedroom floor.  And I usually let her get away with it for a few days.  But at some point, she needed to clean up her room (usually by Saturday afternoon), and that usually involved her shoving all manner of papers, pencils, markers, books, toys, broken crayons, and dolls into her closet, into toy bins, and under her bed.  I think her goal was to shove her stuff anywhere she could get it out of my sight, but still hang to each and every small scrap of paper, nub of crayon, dried out marker.

There always came a breaking point, usually when I'd open her closet only to be bombarded by the most awful smell and an avalanche of crumpled paper pieces and all-around junk.  That's when the big black garbage bags came out and purging began the crying started.  She would sit in the doorway and sob over every little piece of paper, every broken game piece, every item of clothing she had out-grown.

It took a few years for me to really wrap my mind around why she holds onto things with such a tight fist. When she came to live with us, the decision was immediate.  There was no taking her back to her Illinois home and packing a suitcase or her toys; she got in our car and we drove to Kansas City.  She was wearing a pink and orange dress and sandals and I hung that dress in the back of her closet and she never wore it again.  Of course, when we got to our apartment, she had her "Kansas City clothes" and her "Kansas City toys," but up until that point those were kind of like special things because she didn't get to play with them that often - really only twice a month.  The clothes weren't her regular clothes - her "Illinois clothes," and the toys weren't the ones she'd grown up playing with and had to leave behind.  It was a long time before we got a box with any of her belonging.  She was so happy when that box finally, finally came years later, I think she had anticipated something like that coming for her for so long, but I could tell she was disappointed when she opened it; she'd outgrown everything in the box and I think the feelings she had about that stuff were mixed.  Good memories and bad memories equally wrapped up in Barbie clothes and books and smells from a past life.  While she was an every-other-weekend kid, we'd refer to her "Kansas City home" and her "Illinois home," two completely different lives that she'd had to balance between.   It took years before we were able to stop differentiating between the two and when she talked about "home," we knew she was referring to us.

So when I was cleaning her room and throwing away garbage bags of paper pieces and crayon nubs and pencil shavings; as I loaded up bags with outgrown t-shirts and shorts that will not fit next summer, I had to breathe deeply and remind myself how far we've come.  The stuff in her room?  It's just her stuff and most of the junk is there because she's a teenager and she can be really, really lazy (What? Take that piece of paper to the garbage can all the way across the room?  Nah, I'll just shove it here, under my bed.). And while she's certainly no longer worried about being pulled from the life that she has, old habits die hard and she still hangs onto things - because then she can say she has something from when she was little (which, for all intents and purposes, is 4th grade). I know it pains her a bit when she asks what her first words were or when she learned to walk. I don't have those answers.  But I can tell her that she's been head-strong for as long as I've known her.  I can repeat the "I am an American and I have rights" story until we are crying from laughing so hard.  It's funny now, and I can see so much of her strong personality already bubbling up when I look back on her childhood with us - short as it has been.  (For the record: I was not laughing when she asserted her "independence" not long after moving in with us and that was her argument for not having to listen to me).

She's well-adjusted. She has plans for the future and when she talks about where she'll spend her holidays when she's in college (less than 4 years from now), I have no doubt that she'll come home.  I will even help her clean out her dorm room at the end of her freshman year.  It will probably require lots of big black garbage bags and that's okay.





Certainly not the oldest picture I have of Abby, but pretty close.  The first Christmas cards we sent out as an every-other-weekend family, November 2007:

Autumn

Seemingly overnight the wind blew in and took with it the leaves from the trees and the light from the sky.  I almost feel as though we should be getting into jammies and brushing our teeth for bed by five o'clock.  I'm planning a lot of soup and I light candles by four o'clock to ward off the gathering darkness.

Autumn is my most and least favorite time of year.  I love the crispness and the squashes in the grocery store and the onset of comfort foods for dinner.  I love flannel sheets and warm slippers and the way my hands feel around a cup of hot coffee in the morning.  I do not love full-blown night time by six o'clock, even if it is a little easier to get my small human ready for bed.

Our fall so far:

Finn grew his own pumpkin in our garden this summer and has been asking every day since July when it was going to be time to carve his pumpkin.  We finally carved it the day before we left for Kansas City, but we lit it up a few times when we got home.  Finn wasn't too keen on the squishy insides but was insistent on it having an angry face.  He also had to write his name on his pumpkin, which these days is a lower-case i, followed by a backwards upper-case F.    

Finn wanted to be a fireman for Halloween this year.  When Uriah and I went out for our anniversary, we stopped at every costume store in Duluth looking for a fireman for our small human. We found one at Target, but it was sized 3+, which means it was made for kids much bigger than Finn.  I was lamenting the fact that Finn was swimming in his costume to my mother-in-law and she said said she saw a costume at Costco and she'd check to see if they still had it.  Sure enough, she had one waiting in a 3T size for Finn when we got there on Halloween.  He did not wear his mustache trick or treating, apparently it "tickled." Abby, of course, is too old to trick-or-treat, but she wanted to dress up anyway to hand out candy.  When you're 13, it's really just an excuse to wear a lot of very heavy make-up (I believe that she calls it "smokey eyes") and some super high heels and call yourself a vampire.  And then she was resistant to having her picture taken with the small-ish cousins.  Go figure.

Finally this fall we have begun the process of raking and raking and raking the leaves.  I've already done one round.   I have piles in the yard that need to be bagged and taken to the community composting site. And I end up raking each pile at least 15 times because it is just too tempting for Finn to run through! He looks so cute, though, I forgive him and re-rake.

Seemingly overnight the wind blew in and took with it the leaves from the trees and the light from the sky.  I almost feel as though we should be getting into jammies and brushing our teeth for bed by five o'clock.  I'm planning a lot of soup and I light candles by four o'clock to ward off the gathering darkness.

Autumn is my most and least favorite time of year.  I love the crispness and the squashes in the grocery store and the onset of comfort foods for dinner.  I love flannel sheets and warm slippers and the way my hands feel around a cup of hot coffee in the morning.  I do not love full-blown night time by six o'clock, even if it is a little easier to get my small human ready for bed.

Our fall so far:

Finn grew his own pumpkin in our garden this summer and has been asking every day since July when it was going to be time to carve his pumpkin.  We finally carved it the day before we left for Kansas City, but we lit it up a few times when we got home.  Finn wasn't too keen on the squishy insides but was insistent on it having an angry face.  He also had to write his name on his pumpkin, which these days is a lower-case i, followed by a backwards upper-case F.    

Finn wanted to be a fireman for Halloween this year.  When Uriah and I went out for our anniversary, we stopped at every costume store in Duluth looking for a fireman for our small human. We found one at Target, but it was sized 3+, which means it was made for kids much bigger than Finn.  I was lamenting the fact that Finn was swimming in his costume to my mother-in-law and she said said she saw a costume at Costco and she'd check to see if they still had it.  Sure enough, she had one waiting in a 3T size for Finn when we got there on Halloween.  He did not wear his mustache trick or treating, apparently it "tickled." Abby, of course, is too old to trick-or-treat, but she wanted to dress up anyway to hand out candy.  When you're 13, it's really just an excuse to wear a lot of very heavy make-up (I believe that she calls it "smokey eyes") and some super high heels and call yourself a vampire.  And then she was resistant to having her picture taken with the small-ish cousins.  Go figure.

Finally this fall we have begun the process of raking and raking and raking the leaves.  I've already done one round.   I have piles in the yard that need to be bagged and taken to the community composting site. And I end up raking each pile at least 15 times because it is just too tempting for Finn to run through! He looks so cute, though, I forgive him and re-rake.

The Artist's Cottage

When we moved into our house last year, there was an extra room attached to the garage.  A simple room with windows and electricity and heat.  You can safely bet that Abby begged for weeks to be able to use it as her bedroom.  You'd win the jackpot if you also bet that we firmly denied that request each and every time (Because, really?  A teenager in a room that is not connected to the main house?  No good can come of that).

   

I don't know if it was pitched to us as an extra cottage, or if we later found out that the previous owners were artists, but we took to calling it the Artist's Cottage and that is how we still refer to it today.  For the first few months the Artist's Cottage housed all of our moving detritus - the stuff we couldn't find an immediate home for.  Then winter blew in and it suddenly became a catch-all for our summer stuff - bikes and stroller and wagon and sandbox toys all found their winter respite in the Artist's Cottage.

We spent the winter dreaming big dreams for the space - my favorite being an extra guest bedroom. But that would require a little more work that we have time for during Uriah's busy season, so it continued to sit through the spring as extra storage space.  Finally early in the summer I gutted most of it.  I threw away a ton of junk, swept up a sandbox of dirt and rocks and dust.  I found homes for the items that needed to get out of there and organized the items that remained.

And suddenly it turned into an Artist's Cottage again.  We brought out all of the crayons, markers, craft stuff. The paints and the paint brushes, paper, coloring books and scissors, even the sewing machine all found their happy homes on the shelves of the cottage.  I strung up some string with clothes pins to dry pictures and I brought a bin of Uriah's old toys out for Finn to play with; I set up a very big table in the middle and stuck some of our folding chairs around it - giving space for imaginations and crafty ideas.

And over the course of the summer, Finn would ask me to open up the cottage for him and he'd play planes, or play-dough or color pictures.  Abby and her friends would visit in there and they even did a couple of paint craft projects.  We used it and we loved it.  But somehow, when I walked in there earlier this week, the play-dough had melted all over the table, the pieces of paper craft projects were scattered over the floor. The blow-up pool had found a temporary home in there, along with our charcoal, bird food, and a bag of quick-set cement.

In other words: the Artist's Cottage was more like an Artist's Junk Pit.  So I swept and organized.  I threw things away and stored things in the garage.  I scrubbed all the grody, melty play-dough off of the table and cleaned up the shelves. 

And although organizing that room was very, very low on my list of tasks to tackle this week, once again we can use the cottage for it's intended purpose: art and imagination.  

When we moved into our house last year, there was an extra room attached to the garage.  A simple room with windows and electricity and heat.  You can safely bet that Abby begged for weeks to be able to use it as her bedroom.  You'd win the jackpot if you also bet that we firmly denied that request each and every time (Because, really?  A teenager in a room that is not connected to the main house?  No good can come of that).

   

I don't know if it was pitched to us as an extra cottage, or if we later found out that the previous owners were artists, but we took to calling it the Artist's Cottage and that is how we still refer to it today.  For the first few months the Artist's Cottage housed all of our moving detritus - the stuff we couldn't find an immediate home for.  Then winter blew in and it suddenly became a catch-all for our summer stuff - bikes and stroller and wagon and sandbox toys all found their winter respite in the Artist's Cottage.

We spent the winter dreaming big dreams for the space - my favorite being an extra guest bedroom. But that would require a little more work that we have time for during Uriah's busy season, so it continued to sit through the spring as extra storage space.  Finally early in the summer I gutted most of it.  I threw away a ton of junk, swept up a sandbox of dirt and rocks and dust.  I found homes for the items that needed to get out of there and organized the items that remained.

And suddenly it turned into an Artist's Cottage again.  We brought out all of the crayons, markers, craft stuff. The paints and the paint brushes, paper, coloring books and scissors, even the sewing machine all found their happy homes on the shelves of the cottage.  I strung up some string with clothes pins to dry pictures and I brought a bin of Uriah's old toys out for Finn to play with; I set up a very big table in the middle and stuck some of our folding chairs around it - giving space for imaginations and crafty ideas.

And over the course of the summer, Finn would ask me to open up the cottage for him and he'd play planes, or play-dough or color pictures.  Abby and her friends would visit in there and they even did a couple of paint craft projects.  We used it and we loved it.  But somehow, when I walked in there earlier this week, the play-dough had melted all over the table, the pieces of paper craft projects were scattered over the floor. The blow-up pool had found a temporary home in there, along with our charcoal, bird food, and a bag of quick-set cement.

In other words: the Artist's Cottage was more like an Artist's Junk Pit.  So I swept and organized.  I threw things away and stored things in the garage.  I scrubbed all the grody, melty play-dough off of the table and cleaned up the shelves. 

And although organizing that room was very, very low on my list of tasks to tackle this week, once again we can use the cottage for it's intended purpose: art and imagination.  

Hello...hello...hhhheeelllloooo!

August was a brutal month of travelling for us.  We were away from our home more than we were in it - and we left Uriah behind more often than not.  Our one-day-a-week Family Funday that I had great expectations for fell off the map sometime in July and we never fully recovered.  

So here we are, school starts again tomorrow and the summer of great adventure is going to go down in Hefter Family History as the summer of mediocre adventure.  And lots of travel.  And lots of busyness.

We did not get to the Great Minnesota Get Together (aka: The Minnesota State Fair) but we did make an appearance at the Great Lake County Get Together (aka: The Lake County Fair).  We sampled the offerings of the beer garden, saw some chickens, let a baby cow lick our fingers, rode some kiddie rides and had mini-donuts.  

Abby lost her crap on the ride that drops you super fast.  We could hear her screaming the whole way down.  She begged to be able to meet her friends the following day - without parents - at the fair.  I guess this is what growing up means - more friend time, less family time.  We sent her off for the day with some money and the request to make good choices.  I guess that's all you can do. 

We took another mini-vacation to Leech Lake.  Uriah, of course, worked.  But we managed to get in a little family time on the "hontoon," as Finn calls it.  Lots of fishing - no catching.  Finn also learned to jump into the pool and even let me dunk his whole head under a couple of times...and by "let," I mean I just dunked him under a couple of times when I caught him.  He learned to hold his breath!  For as fearless as that boy is of the water, he needs to learn some basic swimming lessons soon!

Abby is awesome at being surly and 13.  She brought a friend along on our Leech Lake vacation and then promptly slept on the pontoon/fishing excursion.  Her friend, on the other hand, fished with Finn and Uriah.  My mom's advice is always to stick my tongue to the roof of my mouth; you can't say anything when you're busy keeping your tongue stuck up there and it avoids a lot of needless arguments.  I am getting awesome it and I remind myself daily that at some point she will grow out of this phase.  Please let me be delusional in thinking that it won't take her going to college for her to become human.  Teenagers...they think they know it all!

We had a bachelorette party for Sarah last weekend in southern Minnesota.  That area of Minnesota is so beautiful.  I should know, my pal Becca and I got lost walking on the bike trail for about 4 hours.  It's clear I learned nothing from my years as a Girl Scout.  No map.  No compass.  No idea where we were going.  We are poster-children for what not to do in the great outdoors.  Luckily we made our 10+ mile walk back to Sarah and she was only slightly annoyed that we left her sleeping in the tent.  Without a note. And with the car keys in my pocket.

School starts tomorrow for Abby.  I am very much looking forward to getting back into our routine and having some structure for our days.  Finn is still too young for pre-school, and, let's face it, I'm not ready for him to go even if he was old enough, but he was insistent that he get a back pack when we went back to school shopping last week.  He can wear it to the library, I guess.

Wedding week is upon us and then Uriah's parents are visiting and then it's our anniversary and my birthday.  And then, you know...it's Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas.  So, I'm really looking forward to January when the snows keep us home-bound for more than a few days at a time!

August was a brutal month of travelling for us.  We were away from our home more than we were in it - and we left Uriah behind more often than not.  Our one-day-a-week Family Funday that I had great expectations for fell off the map sometime in July and we never fully recovered.  

So here we are, school starts again tomorrow and the summer of great adventure is going to go down in Hefter Family History as the summer of mediocre adventure.  And lots of travel.  And lots of busyness.

We did not get to the Great Minnesota Get Together (aka: The Minnesota State Fair) but we did make an appearance at the Great Lake County Get Together (aka: The Lake County Fair).  We sampled the offerings of the beer garden, saw some chickens, let a baby cow lick our fingers, rode some kiddie rides and had mini-donuts.  

Abby lost her crap on the ride that drops you super fast.  We could hear her screaming the whole way down.  She begged to be able to meet her friends the following day - without parents - at the fair.  I guess this is what growing up means - more friend time, less family time.  We sent her off for the day with some money and the request to make good choices.  I guess that's all you can do. 

We took another mini-vacation to Leech Lake.  Uriah, of course, worked.  But we managed to get in a little family time on the "hontoon," as Finn calls it.  Lots of fishing - no catching.  Finn also learned to jump into the pool and even let me dunk his whole head under a couple of times...and by "let," I mean I just dunked him under a couple of times when I caught him.  He learned to hold his breath!  For as fearless as that boy is of the water, he needs to learn some basic swimming lessons soon!

Abby is awesome at being surly and 13.  She brought a friend along on our Leech Lake vacation and then promptly slept on the pontoon/fishing excursion.  Her friend, on the other hand, fished with Finn and Uriah.  My mom's advice is always to stick my tongue to the roof of my mouth; you can't say anything when you're busy keeping your tongue stuck up there and it avoids a lot of needless arguments.  I am getting awesome it and I remind myself daily that at some point she will grow out of this phase.  Please let me be delusional in thinking that it won't take her going to college for her to become human.  Teenagers...they think they know it all!

We had a bachelorette party for Sarah last weekend in southern Minnesota.  That area of Minnesota is so beautiful.  I should know, my pal Becca and I got lost walking on the bike trail for about 4 hours.  It's clear I learned nothing from my years as a Girl Scout.  No map.  No compass.  No idea where we were going.  We are poster-children for what not to do in the great outdoors.  Luckily we made our 10+ mile walk back to Sarah and she was only slightly annoyed that we left her sleeping in the tent.  Without a note. And with the car keys in my pocket.

School starts tomorrow for Abby.  I am very much looking forward to getting back into our routine and having some structure for our days.  Finn is still too young for pre-school, and, let's face it, I'm not ready for him to go even if he was old enough, but he was insistent that he get a back pack when we went back to school shopping last week.  He can wear it to the library, I guess.

Wedding week is upon us and then Uriah's parents are visiting and then it's our anniversary and my birthday.  And then, you know...it's Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas.  So, I'm really looking forward to January when the snows keep us home-bound for more than a few days at a time!

A family obsessed.

A few weeks ago I brought home a fire pit.  

Uriah and I had been talking about getting one pretty much all summer, although Uriah was convinced that he could make one for us out of bricks and crap he was going to buy at Home Depot.  With the loads of spare time he has in the summer, I was certain it would be 20 summers from now by the time the awesome fire pit of his dreams was complete, so when I found one on clearance at the ShopKo, I popped on it. 

We have been obsessed ever since.  We have a fire as often as we can - weather and wood permitting - and I 've been loading my kids up on s'mores, because I think s'mores are the official bed time snack of summer.  Most nights we have our bed time snack around the fire pit (grahams, mallows, chocolate...what an awesome way to go to bed!  Last night we experimented with Rolos and the metly-caramel/hot marshmallow combo was amazing!) and then Uriah and I sit outside and have grown up time until the embers are glowing and the mosquitoes force us inside.

We should have done this a long time ago...

A few weeks ago I brought home a fire pit.  

Uriah and I had been talking about getting one pretty much all summer, although Uriah was convinced that he could make one for us out of bricks and crap he was going to buy at Home Depot.  With the loads of spare time he has in the summer, I was certain it would be 20 summers from now by the time the awesome fire pit of his dreams was complete, so when I found one on clearance at the ShopKo, I popped on it. 

We have been obsessed ever since.  We have a fire as often as we can - weather and wood permitting - and I 've been loading my kids up on s'mores, because I think s'mores are the official bed time snack of summer.  Most nights we have our bed time snack around the fire pit (grahams, mallows, chocolate...what an awesome way to go to bed!  Last night we experimented with Rolos and the metly-caramel/hot marshmallow combo was amazing!) and then Uriah and I sit outside and have grown up time until the embers are glowing and the mosquitoes force us inside.

We should have done this a long time ago...

Strawberry Insanity

It's been a whole lot of strawberries up in here lately.  The last time we went strawberry picking was 2 summers ago, Finn couldn't walk and it was a hot Iowa day.  Needless to say, we didn't last long in that patch.  We tried to go last summer before we left Iowa, but by the time I got myself organized and had carved out some time in the midst of packing, we were too late.  It's just as well, I wouldn't have had time to do anything with those strawberries last summer anyway, I was just being optimistic.

This year was different and our bounty was 10-fold what we had two years ago.  I've got a board devoted to all things strawberry on my Pinterest page and I can't wait to try a few new recipes.  I managed to make 3 batches of jam.  I used this recipe from The Pioneer Woman because it's really easy and because it's in her new cookbook, which my husband gave me as a surprise "just because" gift last spring, so it was readily accessible.  The pages are now slightly sticky and stuck together.  Try not to shudder at the 10-1/2 cups of sugar per batch.

I've got a list a mile long of what I want to make with all of these strawberries - and considering I have about 5 gallon-sized bags in the freezer, it will surely take me through the winter.

• Strawberry Popsicles are top on my list (although we've been hovering in the high 60s, low 70s, so it hasn't really been hot popsicle weather up here).
• I want to make some more Strawberry Syrup for ice cream and for pancakes and for waffles (and really, anything else I can think of to throw some strawberry syrup on - oatmeal, vanilla pudding...).
• I really want to make some biscuits to go with the jam, and if I'm making biscuits, I might as well make some Strawberry Shortcake - or an alternative, Chocolate Strawberry Shortcake.
• Last summer, to celebrate Julia Child's birthday, I made Strawberry Millefuille, which I will totally be making again because it was so light and amazing. 

I have been using this strawberry ice cream recipe for a couple of years.  It's easy and really, really good. Especially paired with the lemon ice cream that I made a couple of weeks ago.

Uriah requested that I make my mom's Strawberry Glaze Pie, so I did.  It doesn't take a lot of arm twisting to get me to make pie, and since he requests sweet things so infrequently, I like to oblige when I can.  I think my love language is food.

If you find yourself with a plethora of strawberries and need something to make - this pie is a summer staple. Clearly we couldn't even wait to dive into it!  You wouldn't necessarily have to use whole strawberries, although my mom always says it makes for a prettier presentation and I tend to agree.  A simpler solution would be to fill the pie crust with sliced strawberries and pour the glaze over them.

• Baked pastry shell for a 8-9" pie
• 1 cup strawberry juice
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 3 tablepoons cornstarch 
• pinch of salt
• 2 cups (or more) strawberries

To make the juice:  Measure 1 cup of strawberries, crush them, and add enough water to measure one cup.  Simmer for about 3 minutes; strain, discarding the strawberry pulp and keeping the juice.  Add water to the juice if necessary to measure 1 cup.

To make the glaze: Cook the juice, sugar, cornstarch, and salt over medium heat, stirring constantly until thick.  This part takes a bit of patience because it takes time for it to get to a thick syrup consistency.  Cool the glaze.

To assemble the pie:  Slightly wash and hull 2 cups (or more) of strawberries.  Arrange in the baked pie shell.  Coat with glaze and chill 2-3 hours.





Could someone please tell these two to stop growing?  2011 and 2013:

It's been a whole lot of strawberries up in here lately.  The last time we went strawberry picking was 2 summers ago, Finn couldn't walk and it was a hot Iowa day.  Needless to say, we didn't last long in that patch.  We tried to go last summer before we left Iowa, but by the time I got myself organized and had carved out some time in the midst of packing, we were too late.  It's just as well, I wouldn't have had time to do anything with those strawberries last summer anyway, I was just being optimistic.

This year was different and our bounty was 10-fold what we had two years ago.  I've got a board devoted to all things strawberry on my Pinterest page and I can't wait to try a few new recipes.  I managed to make 3 batches of jam.  I used this recipe from The Pioneer Woman because it's really easy and because it's in her new cookbook, which my husband gave me as a surprise "just because" gift last spring, so it was readily accessible.  The pages are now slightly sticky and stuck together.  Try not to shudder at the 10-1/2 cups of sugar per batch.

I've got a list a mile long of what I want to make with all of these strawberries - and considering I have about 5 gallon-sized bags in the freezer, it will surely take me through the winter.

• Strawberry Popsicles are top on my list (although we've been hovering in the high 60s, low 70s, so it hasn't really been hot popsicle weather up here).
• I want to make some more Strawberry Syrup for ice cream and for pancakes and for waffles (and really, anything else I can think of to throw some strawberry syrup on - oatmeal, vanilla pudding...).
• I really want to make some biscuits to go with the jam, and if I'm making biscuits, I might as well make some Strawberry Shortcake - or an alternative, Chocolate Strawberry Shortcake.
• Last summer, to celebrate Julia Child's birthday, I made Strawberry Millefuille, which I will totally be making again because it was so light and amazing. 

I have been using this strawberry ice cream recipe for a couple of years.  It's easy and really, really good. Especially paired with the lemon ice cream that I made a couple of weeks ago.

Uriah requested that I make my mom's Strawberry Glaze Pie, so I did.  It doesn't take a lot of arm twisting to get me to make pie, and since he requests sweet things so infrequently, I like to oblige when I can.  I think my love language is food.

If you find yourself with a plethora of strawberries and need something to make - this pie is a summer staple. Clearly we couldn't even wait to dive into it!  You wouldn't necessarily have to use whole strawberries, although my mom always says it makes for a prettier presentation and I tend to agree.  A simpler solution would be to fill the pie crust with sliced strawberries and pour the glaze over them.

• Baked pastry shell for a 8-9" pie
• 1 cup strawberry juice
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 3 tablepoons cornstarch 
• pinch of salt
• 2 cups (or more) strawberries

To make the juice:  Measure 1 cup of strawberries, crush them, and add enough water to measure one cup.  Simmer for about 3 minutes; strain, discarding the strawberry pulp and keeping the juice.  Add water to the juice if necessary to measure 1 cup.

To make the glaze: Cook the juice, sugar, cornstarch, and salt over medium heat, stirring constantly until thick.  This part takes a bit of patience because it takes time for it to get to a thick syrup consistency.  Cool the glaze.

To assemble the pie:  Slightly wash and hull 2 cups (or more) of strawberries.  Arrange in the baked pie shell.  Coat with glaze and chill 2-3 hours.





Could someone please tell these two to stop growing?  2011 and 2013:

Pop-Up Vacation - you know, from 3 weeks ago.

I am behind...behind in laundry, behind in blogging (which I said I would be more diligent about), behind in my reading (I have 3 books checked out from the library, 2 of which I've started - and a list of books I still want to tackle).  And honestly...I'm not too concerned about any of it.  

We just got back from a week in Kansas City with my sister and trying to fit in visiting all of our extended family down there (I learned that it's kind of impossible, even with a week's worth of time, and I'm trying not to feel too guilty about those we missed.).  We had a bridal shower for my baby sister and spent 4th of July at the pool.  We left behind 91 degree weather for 55 degree fogginess.  And we're making up for 10 long days away from Uriah.

Before we left for the dirty, dirty South we took a pop-up vacation to Leech Lake, which was really a working vacation for Uriah - so not really a vacation for him at all - but it was for the rest of us!  And although it rained one of the 3 days we were there, but we managed to squeeze in some marshmallow roasting, some boating, fishing, and swimming and, of course, a little bit of HGTV (I need my fix when we leave our cable-free home!).

This week we are preparing for Finn's 3rd Birthday!  I can hardly believe 3 years have zoomed by, but I am staying stoic and trying to to cry all day long.  On the plus side, he's almost completely potty trained - still just a pull-up at night because it's hit or miss yet.  Of all of the struggles these past 3 years have brought us, potty training is by far my own personal hell.

So...while I'm planning super-hero themed birthday fun and rainbow pancakes and an Iron Man cake, I also hope to sort through the 1000+ pictures from our week away from home.  I'm tring not to miss morning naps with my sweetie sugar lump nephew and my husband has planned an an honest-to-goodness-hired-a-babysitter-and-everything date (which really means we need to get Finn a birthday present and we don't want him along while we decide).  I need to weed a week's worth of junk out of my gardens, but mostly I need to try not to be a basket case about my baby not being a baby.

I am behind...behind in laundry, behind in blogging (which I said I would be more diligent about), behind in my reading (I have 3 books checked out from the library, 2 of which I've started - and a list of books I still want to tackle).  And honestly...I'm not too concerned about any of it.  

We just got back from a week in Kansas City with my sister and trying to fit in visiting all of our extended family down there (I learned that it's kind of impossible, even with a week's worth of time, and I'm trying not to feel too guilty about those we missed.).  We had a bridal shower for my baby sister and spent 4th of July at the pool.  We left behind 91 degree weather for 55 degree fogginess.  And we're making up for 10 long days away from Uriah.

Before we left for the dirty, dirty South we took a pop-up vacation to Leech Lake, which was really a working vacation for Uriah - so not really a vacation for him at all - but it was for the rest of us!  And although it rained one of the 3 days we were there, but we managed to squeeze in some marshmallow roasting, some boating, fishing, and swimming and, of course, a little bit of HGTV (I need my fix when we leave our cable-free home!).

This week we are preparing for Finn's 3rd Birthday!  I can hardly believe 3 years have zoomed by, but I am staying stoic and trying to to cry all day long.  On the plus side, he's almost completely potty trained - still just a pull-up at night because it's hit or miss yet.  Of all of the struggles these past 3 years have brought us, potty training is by far my own personal hell.

So...while I'm planning super-hero themed birthday fun and rainbow pancakes and an Iron Man cake, I also hope to sort through the 1000+ pictures from our week away from home.  I'm tring not to miss morning naps with my sweetie sugar lump nephew and my husband has planned an an honest-to-goodness-hired-a-babysitter-and-everything date (which really means we need to get Finn a birthday present and we don't want him along while we decide).  I need to weed a week's worth of junk out of my gardens, but mostly I need to try not to be a basket case about my baby not being a baby.

What's new?

Abby's decided that she doesn't really want to be photographed or in any way immortalized this summer.  I guess that's what the early teen years will do to a girl, but we are a family and we do family things and I will document it.  I don't want her to look back on the summer of 2013 and wonder why all of our pictures of our family trips and family fun-days are just of Finn.  I told her if she chooses to be uncooperative, then I will these kinds of pictures and I am okay with that:

In other big Abby news, the girl has been living with us for 5 years.  Some days it feels like only yesterday we smuggled her off in our car, blazing a westerly trail across Missouri, each of us reeling with the change of events.  It was the beginning of a long summer and none of us were prepared for the whirlwind 5 years that followed.  I admit at least weekly to Uriah that I thought this whole process would be different.  Usually I wonder why it isn't easier, and so I've spent the last 5 years trying to reconcile the way I thought it would be - this raising someone else's kid - and the way it really is.  I've said it before and I'll say it again: step-parenting is hands-down the hardest kind of parenting.  I feel like I could write a book on the subject.

And this boy.  Oh...this boy.  He went to his first birthday party this month - I dropped him off and picked him back up a few hours later, and I nearly started crying as I drove home because he's such a big boy.  Will this be what leaving him at school for Kindergarten is like?  If so, I think I'll need to give serious consideration to home schooling because I don't think my heart can take it!

And so we are weaving our way through this summer.  It's full as a tick already.  We're spending next week in the dirty, dirty South with my sister and brother-in-law.  My precious sugar pie nephew will be hanging out with us all week long (we've sprung him from daycare for the week!  Lucky him.  But mostly lucky us!).  I'll get a good dose of baby-fix, the kids will get some cousin/auntie/uncle time and Uriah will be lonely and pining for us back here in Minnesota.

I was lamenting to Uriah last night that I just haven't been writing enough lately.  I have things to say, but the words seem to get stuck between my head and my fingers.  I guess I just need to power through and see what comes of it.  So...more writing for the rest of the summer.  Pinky-promise.

Abby's decided that she doesn't really want to be photographed or in any way immortalized this summer.  I guess that's what the early teen years will do to a girl, but we are a family and we do family things and I will document it.  I don't want her to look back on the summer of 2013 and wonder why all of our pictures of our family trips and family fun-days are just of Finn.  I told her if she chooses to be uncooperative, then I will these kinds of pictures and I am okay with that:

In other big Abby news, the girl has been living with us for 5 years.  Some days it feels like only yesterday we smuggled her off in our car, blazing a westerly trail across Missouri, each of us reeling with the change of events.  It was the beginning of a long summer and none of us were prepared for the whirlwind 5 years that followed.  I admit at least weekly to Uriah that I thought this whole process would be different.  Usually I wonder why it isn't easier, and so I've spent the last 5 years trying to reconcile the way I thought it would be - this raising someone else's kid - and the way it really is.  I've said it before and I'll say it again: step-parenting is hands-down the hardest kind of parenting.  I feel like I could write a book on the subject.

And this boy.  Oh...this boy.  He went to his first birthday party this month - I dropped him off and picked him back up a few hours later, and I nearly started crying as I drove home because he's such a big boy.  Will this be what leaving him at school for Kindergarten is like?  If so, I think I'll need to give serious consideration to home schooling because I don't think my heart can take it!

And so we are weaving our way through this summer.  It's full as a tick already.  We're spending next week in the dirty, dirty South with my sister and brother-in-law.  My precious sugar pie nephew will be hanging out with us all week long (we've sprung him from daycare for the week!  Lucky him.  But mostly lucky us!).  I'll get a good dose of baby-fix, the kids will get some cousin/auntie/uncle time and Uriah will be lonely and pining for us back here in Minnesota.

I was lamenting to Uriah last night that I just haven't been writing enough lately.  I have things to say, but the words seem to get stuck between my head and my fingers.  I guess I just need to power through and see what comes of it.  So...more writing for the rest of the summer.  Pinky-promise.

The Class of 2017

Once again we come to the end of the year, and this year, more than any other year, I've been a little uncomfortable to see it come to an end.  This is the last day of middle school.  Next year Abby will be part of the high school...a freshman.  Last weekend Abby had to play with the band at the high school graduation and as I dropped her off at the school that evening, all I could think was that in 4 short years we will be dropping off a graduate!  Of high school!

The Class of 2017.

I'm hyperventilating.  It's so close.  And yet so, so far away at the same time.





A look back here and here.

And, because I love to watch the progression of things, here are the last days of school we've had with Abby.  You're welcome.

{2009 | 2010 | 2011* | 2012**}

*2011 - Abby didn't exactly have a "last day of school," because we moved to Iowa before the year officially ended.  Her last day of school in Kansas City was the day of her school play and this is the only picture I have of it.  We moved the next day.  She finished out the school year in Iowa (all 2 weeks of it).
**2012 - I have no idea why I didn't get an official end of the year picture last year.  So instead, let's all enjoy Abby marching in the Middle School Marching Band for the Memorial Day Parade and pretend that was the wrap-up of 7th grade.

Once again we come to the end of the year, and this year, more than any other year, I've been a little uncomfortable to see it come to an end.  This is the last day of middle school.  Next year Abby will be part of the high school...a freshman.  Last weekend Abby had to play with the band at the high school graduation and as I dropped her off at the school that evening, all I could think was that in 4 short years we will be dropping off a graduate!  Of high school!

The Class of 2017.

I'm hyperventilating.  It's so close.  And yet so, so far away at the same time.





A look back here and here.

And, because I love to watch the progression of things, here are the last days of school we've had with Abby.  You're welcome.

{2009 | 2010 | 2011* | 2012**}

*2011 - Abby didn't exactly have a "last day of school," because we moved to Iowa before the year officially ended.  Her last day of school in Kansas City was the day of her school play and this is the only picture I have of it.  We moved the next day.  She finished out the school year in Iowa (all 2 weeks of it).
**2012 - I have no idea why I didn't get an official end of the year picture last year.  So instead, let's all enjoy Abby marching in the Middle School Marching Band for the Memorial Day Parade and pretend that was the wrap-up of 7th grade.

How far you've come

"Remember how far you've come, not just how far you have to go.

You are not where you want to be, but neither are you where you used to be."

[Rick Warren]

"Remember how far you've come, not just how far you have to go.

You are not where you want to be, but neither are you where you used to be."

[Rick Warren]

On Mothering a Teenager.

Abby has been aching to get her hair cut for some time.  As in...begging.  And, I'll admit, I put her off a bit because I really do like her hair the way it is.  Was.  The way her hair was.

Last weekend, I caved and told her we would be at the mall on Saturday morning and if she'd like to get her hair cut, she should probably have some pictures to show the stylist.  She was so excited all afternoon Friday, pouring over magazines and trying to decide what she wanted to do with her hair (and there was a lot of hair to deal with).  Her only guidelines were that there would be no coloring of any sort (that will be saved for when she can finance the upkeep on her own.  I am a staunch believer that the color of hair should be done by a professional only - there are too many variables involved.  And also, hair color should be that which is found in nature.  "Our new baby has green hair!" said no one ever.), other than that, I didn't really care what she decided to do with her hair.

I should have know something drastic would ensue when she showed me two relatively "safe" pictures of a medium length shaggy haircut and one super short cut.  The girl has been itching in her own skin for some time and I think she was ready to burst out of her safe cocoon and see what the world has to offer - and what better way to test her wings than with a very, very drastic haircut.  However, for a girl who's always tried to fit in and has never really rocked the boat, the short style was going to be a huge change and I tried to caution her against it, or at least work her way up to it - you know, medium cut first, and then decide if she really wanted to go short.  

But I am just the mom and she is perfectly content to assure me she knows her own mind.

My stomach sank on Saturday morning when I overheard the words, "Mylie Cyrus" and "shaved," but I sat back in my seat and turned up Dinosaur Train for Finn a little bit louder and tried to keep the look of utter shock off my face as the stylist pulled out the clippers and the scissors and went to town.  There comes a point when your little butterfly needs to either fly or fall and this was one of those life lesson moments that I had to sit back and watch unfold.  I'll admit, I would have been happier had I been fortified by another cup of coffee.  Or a martini.  Instead I tried to read a magazine and to keep my eyes from straying over to the locks of beautiful hair littering the floor around the stylist's feet.  

I'll cut to the chase and tell you it was a complete and utter disaster.  I tried to reassure her on the drive home that it just needed to be styled; she just needed to work with it to make it her own.  I tried to impress upon her that it's hair and it will grow back and in the meantime, she just needed to own it, but there were real tears and requests to shave her whole head (such teen drama) and how could she even be seen in school on Monday and why didn't she listen to me (my personal favorite).  Instead, I gave in to her request for a bowl of ice cream and a movie and told her I would see about finding someone to get it fixed on Monday. 

On Monday morning, I set about finding a fix for Abby's hair; I was hopeful I could get her in after school (we live in a small town, options are sort of limited) but the only thing available was early afternoon, right after lunch.  I pulled Abby out of school, which is something I never do, would never consider doing for a haircut, but I had a feeling that the day was going to be pretty tough for her.  When I picked her up in front of the school and told her we were getting her hair fixed, she was so grateful I thought for a minute she might cry.  She didn't say much but admitted to me that the morning had been pretty rough.  

I am so disheartened by humanity when I hear about the things that middle-schoolers do to each other.  I can only raise my small humans to treat each other and everyone else they meet, with kindness and respect and hope that it will leach out from them like the ripples in a pond.  I wish more parents felt that way.

The woman who fixed her hair did an awesome job.  It's equal parts demur and punk-rock, depending on how she styles it.  But, it is still so hard for me to get used to.  Every time I look at her, it's like I'm looking at a stranger.  I know it's still Abby - just a different version of her.  A somewhat older, sassier, more mature version.  Did she learn a lesson?  Yes - and it wasn't that I'm always right, far from it.  The biggest thing we talked about being assertive and standing up for yourself; being your own advocate.  We talked about walking away from the haters (I'll admit, I played the devil's advocate on this one telling her if kids were going to be mean to her, she should just be mean right back,  just to see how she'd respond.  She told me she could never stoop to their level).  We talked about making a decision and owning the consequences, good or bad.  

I got a two page letter from Abby for mother's day this year - full of kind words and respect.  She's growing up.  Right before my eyes, that squeaky-voiced bundle of energy is growing into a smart, talented, considerate young lady.  And I get to watch and, sometimes, participate, in the decisions that will mold her and shape her into the woman she will become.

I am a lucky mama.

Because I respect my small humans, Abby has asked that I not post any before pictures of her hair cut - even though the pictures I took on our Mother's Day hike on Sunday of her and Finn were so, so cute (she wore a hat and, I am telling you, she just looked like a fun, pretty girl).  Instead, I'll share these before, before pictures of both my kids.  I love being their mom.  Best. Job. Ever.

Abby has been aching to get her hair cut for some time.  As in...begging.  And, I'll admit, I put her off a bit because I really do like her hair the way it is.  Was.  The way her hair was.

Last weekend, I caved and told her we would be at the mall on Saturday morning and if she'd like to get her hair cut, she should probably have some pictures to show the stylist.  She was so excited all afternoon Friday, pouring over magazines and trying to decide what she wanted to do with her hair (and there was a lot of hair to deal with).  Her only guidelines were that there would be no coloring of any sort (that will be saved for when she can finance the upkeep on her own.  I am a staunch believer that the color of hair should be done by a professional only - there are too many variables involved.  And also, hair color should be that which is found in nature.  "Our new baby has green hair!" said no one ever.), other than that, I didn't really care what she decided to do with her hair.

I should have know something drastic would ensue when she showed me two relatively "safe" pictures of a medium length shaggy haircut and one super short cut.  The girl has been itching in her own skin for some time and I think she was ready to burst out of her safe cocoon and see what the world has to offer - and what better way to test her wings than with a very, very drastic haircut.  However, for a girl who's always tried to fit in and has never really rocked the boat, the short style was going to be a huge change and I tried to caution her against it, or at least work her way up to it - you know, medium cut first, and then decide if she really wanted to go short.  

But I am just the mom and she is perfectly content to assure me she knows her own mind.

My stomach sank on Saturday morning when I overheard the words, "Mylie Cyrus" and "shaved," but I sat back in my seat and turned up Dinosaur Train for Finn a little bit louder and tried to keep the look of utter shock off my face as the stylist pulled out the clippers and the scissors and went to town.  There comes a point when your little butterfly needs to either fly or fall and this was one of those life lesson moments that I had to sit back and watch unfold.  I'll admit, I would have been happier had I been fortified by another cup of coffee.  Or a martini.  Instead I tried to read a magazine and to keep my eyes from straying over to the locks of beautiful hair littering the floor around the stylist's feet.  

I'll cut to the chase and tell you it was a complete and utter disaster.  I tried to reassure her on the drive home that it just needed to be styled; she just needed to work with it to make it her own.  I tried to impress upon her that it's hair and it will grow back and in the meantime, she just needed to own it, but there were real tears and requests to shave her whole head (such teen drama) and how could she even be seen in school on Monday and why didn't she listen to me (my personal favorite).  Instead, I gave in to her request for a bowl of ice cream and a movie and told her I would see about finding someone to get it fixed on Monday. 

On Monday morning, I set about finding a fix for Abby's hair; I was hopeful I could get her in after school (we live in a small town, options are sort of limited) but the only thing available was early afternoon, right after lunch.  I pulled Abby out of school, which is something I never do, would never consider doing for a haircut, but I had a feeling that the day was going to be pretty tough for her.  When I picked her up in front of the school and told her we were getting her hair fixed, she was so grateful I thought for a minute she might cry.  She didn't say much but admitted to me that the morning had been pretty rough.  

I am so disheartened by humanity when I hear about the things that middle-schoolers do to each other.  I can only raise my small humans to treat each other and everyone else they meet, with kindness and respect and hope that it will leach out from them like the ripples in a pond.  I wish more parents felt that way.

The woman who fixed her hair did an awesome job.  It's equal parts demur and punk-rock, depending on how she styles it.  But, it is still so hard for me to get used to.  Every time I look at her, it's like I'm looking at a stranger.  I know it's still Abby - just a different version of her.  A somewhat older, sassier, more mature version.  Did she learn a lesson?  Yes - and it wasn't that I'm always right, far from it.  The biggest thing we talked about being assertive and standing up for yourself; being your own advocate.  We talked about walking away from the haters (I'll admit, I played the devil's advocate on this one telling her if kids were going to be mean to her, she should just be mean right back,  just to see how she'd respond.  She told me she could never stoop to their level).  We talked about making a decision and owning the consequences, good or bad.  

I got a two page letter from Abby for mother's day this year - full of kind words and respect.  She's growing up.  Right before my eyes, that squeaky-voiced bundle of energy is growing into a smart, talented, considerate young lady.  And I get to watch and, sometimes, participate, in the decisions that will mold her and shape her into the woman she will become.

I am a lucky mama.

Because I respect my small humans, Abby has asked that I not post any before pictures of her hair cut - even though the pictures I took on our Mother's Day hike on Sunday of her and Finn were so, so cute (she wore a hat and, I am telling you, she just looked like a fun, pretty girl).  Instead, I'll share these before, before pictures of both my kids.  I love being their mom.  Best. Job. Ever.

On my mind today:

 I wish I had more for you...

But the truth is, this elongated winter that we are experiencing is truly taking a toll on my motivation, my cheery words and my ability to get things done in a timely manner.  Add to that the fact that I spent the past 6 weeks working temporarily in my hometown (well, 5 weeks really, there was a week break in there for a spring break trip to Kansas City) and this "spring that wasn't" has been exhausting.

So, to catch you (and me) up, here is where it's at - list style (my favorite):

• Abby had a school dance, wherein she asked a boy to go with her.  It was big news in this house.
• My mom bought her a dress and she wore heels (which she said were very uncomfortable, but that didn't stop her from wearing them).
• I think it's safe to say she had a really good time.
• I worked half a week for 5 weeks, 4 hours from home.
• Finn and I bunked in with my parents - which was awesome.  
• We left Uriah and Abby behind - which was not so awesome.
• Abby had a list each week before I left of chores to accomplish, Uriah's work schedule, dinner menu, etc.  She did an awesome job of staying on top of what she had to get done.
• She was so excited for me to leave - I think she had glamorous ideas of what it was going to mean for her (making dinner, taking care of the house, being a bit independent - the girl reads a lot and I think she imagined something much bigger than it turned out to be).
• It didn't take long for her to start wishing for me to be back home to stay.  I guess it's nice to know I'm needed and useful, even if it is just to make dinner and empty the dishwasher nightly.
• Finn went to daycare - and loved it (most days).  Some days he required a little extra nudge up the driveway.
• I had anxiety attacks for a week (or maybe more) about how he would do listening to someone else and would he miss me and would he play nice and share and would he be okay in a house with a dog (he did not like dogs - they made him uncomfortable, now he's pretty much a fan).  I should have known he'd be fine.
• The first day he could hardly wait to leave me.  The second day took some convincing.  The third day he cried.  And then he got used to the schedule.  A little clingy some mornings, couldn't get away from me fast enough others.  
• Grandma and Grandpa took turns picking him up in the afternoon.
• I am so grateful to have had them to help out with pick-ups and I know that they really loved the special one-on-one time they had with Finn before I got home.
• I also love living at home - my sheets smelled like my childhood.  I could totally be that girl who lives at home forever.

• Our trip to Kansas City fell at about the halfway point of my temporary job.
• It was a nice break and we'd been looking forward to it all winter.
• It snowed while we were in Kansas City and it did not feel like spring break at all.  I did not wear my flip-flops once.
• We learned that this is a trip that cannot be done in one shot (10 hours is too long for any of us to be in the car).  We stayed overnight half-way both going down and coming back up.  We will always do that.
• I made the small humans goody bags for the trip - little treats/things to do to break up the time spent in the car.  It was a decent first attempt; our next trip will have some changes.  Uriah was seriously sad I didn't make him one.
• The kids got some extra cousin-play time with all of their cousins.  
• I got some extra snuggle time with the baby.  So did Uriah...he held that baby more than I did!  
• The grandparents got to spoil the kids.
• Uriah and I got to have a morning to sneak back to our old neighborhood.
• Due to the snow, my plans to hit up the Kansas City Zoo were waylaid (maybe a trip this summer is in order, although I'm quite sure it would be just me and the two small humans).
• We went to Cabela's on our way through southern Minnesota instead, because it's like the zoo, except all of the animals are dead and stuffed and never, ever move.  Finn loved it.
• I finished out my working stint last week and was sad to leave it, just as I really seemed to be getting into my groove and balancing work and life.
• I am happy to not have the 4 hour commute twice a week, though.  My car is happy about that, too.
• I've been waiting for spring and in the meantime eschewing all forms of spring cleaning (well, I did do one closet yesterday and put away most of the winter stuff.  And then it snowed 3 inches last night.  Can't a girl get a break?!).
• I am anxious to get back into a really good walking routine.  I will even walk through puddles if I have to (and I can assure you, with the plethora of snow we have, melting will take some time and I will have to walk through puddles).
• Luckily Mother's Day usually means a new pair of shoes for me.  After some soggy, soggy walks, I will need them in a month or so.
• The weather forecast is for 60s next week...given the spring we've had, though, I will have to see it to believe it!

 I wish I had more for you...

But the truth is, this elongated winter that we are experiencing is truly taking a toll on my motivation, my cheery words and my ability to get things done in a timely manner.  Add to that the fact that I spent the past 6 weeks working temporarily in my hometown (well, 5 weeks really, there was a week break in there for a spring break trip to Kansas City) and this "spring that wasn't" has been exhausting.

So, to catch you (and me) up, here is where it's at - list style (my favorite):

• Abby had a school dance, wherein she asked a boy to go with her.  It was big news in this house.
• My mom bought her a dress and she wore heels (which she said were very uncomfortable, but that didn't stop her from wearing them).
• I think it's safe to say she had a really good time.
• I worked half a week for 5 weeks, 4 hours from home.
• Finn and I bunked in with my parents - which was awesome.  
• We left Uriah and Abby behind - which was not so awesome.
• Abby had a list each week before I left of chores to accomplish, Uriah's work schedule, dinner menu, etc.  She did an awesome job of staying on top of what she had to get done.
• She was so excited for me to leave - I think she had glamorous ideas of what it was going to mean for her (making dinner, taking care of the house, being a bit independent - the girl reads a lot and I think she imagined something much bigger than it turned out to be).
• It didn't take long for her to start wishing for me to be back home to stay.  I guess it's nice to know I'm needed and useful, even if it is just to make dinner and empty the dishwasher nightly.
• Finn went to daycare - and loved it (most days).  Some days he required a little extra nudge up the driveway.
• I had anxiety attacks for a week (or maybe more) about how he would do listening to someone else and would he miss me and would he play nice and share and would he be okay in a house with a dog (he did not like dogs - they made him uncomfortable, now he's pretty much a fan).  I should have known he'd be fine.
• The first day he could hardly wait to leave me.  The second day took some convincing.  The third day he cried.  And then he got used to the schedule.  A little clingy some mornings, couldn't get away from me fast enough others.  
• Grandma and Grandpa took turns picking him up in the afternoon.
• I am so grateful to have had them to help out with pick-ups and I know that they really loved the special one-on-one time they had with Finn before I got home.
• I also love living at home - my sheets smelled like my childhood.  I could totally be that girl who lives at home forever.

• Our trip to Kansas City fell at about the halfway point of my temporary job.
• It was a nice break and we'd been looking forward to it all winter.
• It snowed while we were in Kansas City and it did not feel like spring break at all.  I did not wear my flip-flops once.
• We learned that this is a trip that cannot be done in one shot (10 hours is too long for any of us to be in the car).  We stayed overnight half-way both going down and coming back up.  We will always do that.
• I made the small humans goody bags for the trip - little treats/things to do to break up the time spent in the car.  It was a decent first attempt; our next trip will have some changes.  Uriah was seriously sad I didn't make him one.
• The kids got some extra cousin-play time with all of their cousins.  
• I got some extra snuggle time with the baby.  So did Uriah...he held that baby more than I did!  
• The grandparents got to spoil the kids.
• Uriah and I got to have a morning to sneak back to our old neighborhood.
• Due to the snow, my plans to hit up the Kansas City Zoo were waylaid (maybe a trip this summer is in order, although I'm quite sure it would be just me and the two small humans).
• We went to Cabela's on our way through southern Minnesota instead, because it's like the zoo, except all of the animals are dead and stuffed and never, ever move.  Finn loved it.
• I finished out my working stint last week and was sad to leave it, just as I really seemed to be getting into my groove and balancing work and life.
• I am happy to not have the 4 hour commute twice a week, though.  My car is happy about that, too.
• I've been waiting for spring and in the meantime eschewing all forms of spring cleaning (well, I did do one closet yesterday and put away most of the winter stuff.  And then it snowed 3 inches last night.  Can't a girl get a break?!).
• I am anxious to get back into a really good walking routine.  I will even walk through puddles if I have to (and I can assure you, with the plethora of snow we have, melting will take some time and I will have to walk through puddles).
• Luckily Mother's Day usually means a new pair of shoes for me.  After some soggy, soggy walks, I will need them in a month or so.
• The weather forecast is for 60s next week...given the spring we've had, though, I will have to see it to believe it!