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.

Let's Pretend It's Spring! (Psych! It's really just another winter storm!)

We played this little game last week called, "Let's Pretend It's Spring!"

The weather got up to 39 degrees two days in a row and it was like a little bit of heaven on our white, frozen tundra.  Uriah and I decided to fully embrace the warm weather by wearing only sweatshirts outside - we were bold: no hats, no mittens; although I did cheat and wear a scarf.  Finn obviously was not allowed to play outside without his full winter-gear, but we did forego his hood and scarf.  The sun was shining, the snow was melting, it totally felt like spring.  I stood in the sunshine, the warm, warm sunshine and I figured that stupid groundhog was full of shit about his shadow and spring and 6 more weeks of never-ending-winter, so we cleaned the snow off of the grill and used it 2 nights in a row!  I'd forgotten how good grilling is...the clean up is so minimal.  I love that.

The downside is that the warm-ish weather causes snow to get sloppy and that gets tracked into the house and I tried really hard not to care because...it was warm and spring-like!  I can handle a little melty, dirty snow on the kitchen floor if it means we can open windows (we did not, by the way, open any windows. Uriah was firm on that one.).  We came to the conclusion that everyone needs new rain boots before spring hits full-force; I really do hate having wet feet and wet pants legs and Finn wore holes in his boots last spring/summer/fall.  I'm not really sure why I didn't throw them away when I did fall cleaning.  The warmer weather also makes snow pants much wetter much sooner; and I resorted to putting his outside clothes in the dryer rather than on the radiator because Finn wanted to play outside often and dry clothes are necessary.

Then, you know...reality hit and we got 12 million feet of snow on Thursday night (actually is was more like 12 inches, but it all feels the same) and school was cancelled on Friday and our grill is once again a snow white mound in the back yard. No more grilling for awhile; back to coats and hats and mittens and boots. I plan to go to Home Depot next week to buy some grass seed.  I'm going to plant it and watch it grow and run my fingers though it because based on the height of the snow piles in my back yard, I will not see grass until at least June.  We might even be able to have a sledding party for Finn's birthday in July.

We played this little game last week called, "Let's Pretend It's Spring!"

The weather got up to 39 degrees two days in a row and it was like a little bit of heaven on our white, frozen tundra.  Uriah and I decided to fully embrace the warm weather by wearing only sweatshirts outside - we were bold: no hats, no mittens; although I did cheat and wear a scarf.  Finn obviously was not allowed to play outside without his full winter-gear, but we did forego his hood and scarf.  The sun was shining, the snow was melting, it totally felt like spring.  I stood in the sunshine, the warm, warm sunshine and I figured that stupid groundhog was full of shit about his shadow and spring and 6 more weeks of never-ending-winter, so we cleaned the snow off of the grill and used it 2 nights in a row!  I'd forgotten how good grilling is...the clean up is so minimal.  I love that.

The downside is that the warm-ish weather causes snow to get sloppy and that gets tracked into the house and I tried really hard not to care because...it was warm and spring-like!  I can handle a little melty, dirty snow on the kitchen floor if it means we can open windows (we did not, by the way, open any windows. Uriah was firm on that one.).  We came to the conclusion that everyone needs new rain boots before spring hits full-force; I really do hate having wet feet and wet pants legs and Finn wore holes in his boots last spring/summer/fall.  I'm not really sure why I didn't throw them away when I did fall cleaning.  The warmer weather also makes snow pants much wetter much sooner; and I resorted to putting his outside clothes in the dryer rather than on the radiator because Finn wanted to play outside often and dry clothes are necessary.

Then, you know...reality hit and we got 12 million feet of snow on Thursday night (actually is was more like 12 inches, but it all feels the same) and school was cancelled on Friday and our grill is once again a snow white mound in the back yard. No more grilling for awhile; back to coats and hats and mittens and boots. I plan to go to Home Depot next week to buy some grass seed.  I'm going to plant it and watch it grow and run my fingers though it because based on the height of the snow piles in my back yard, I will not see grass until at least June.  We might even be able to have a sledding party for Finn's birthday in July.

Resolutions. And also, deadbeat moms. Thoughts?

I've been thinking about a New Year's Resolution for about, oh, 8 or 9 days now.  I know...procrastinate much? The answer is yes, I do.  But I always make a big, glorious resolution and it lasts for a big, glorious month and then I loose steam and energy and motivation and am left for the rest of the year with a big, glorious anger toward my un-realized resolution.  Oh, and my resolution always, always involves losing a gazillion pounds and finds me looking svelte and chic in a time frame that is not advisable (usually around 1 month.  Okay, I give myself 6 months...usually I have it all planned out for bathing suit season, which I don't believe is an actual "season" where I live.).

Not this year.  This year is different.  This year I bit off an amount I can actually chew.  This year there isn't really a "resolution," per se, it's mostly just a word: healthy.  I want to be healthy and I am not attaching a number to it.  I don't even really have a plan as to how I'm going to get to that healthy point other than taking it one day at a time, tracking my calories in and calories out.  I figure I'm just going to stop feeling unhealthy and I'm going to start feeling healthy. One. Day. At. A. Time.

Seems simple enough, don't you think?

Here's a story: last night we got dressed up to go to Uriah's work Christmas party (I almost typed program like it was going to be a bunch of chef-type people and hotel-type people and corporate-type people getting together and singing songs and doing a little dance number for the audience.  It was a party.  There were drink tickets and dinner and allegedly some entertainment that we didn't stick around for because we have kids and a 30 minute drive back up the shore.).  Anyway, so it was a party, which means we got to get dressed up.  And I got this cute new shirt (that I didn't try on, but it was $7 on clearance at Old Navy so I figured, what the hell, it'll work fine), and I got a cute new necklace to go with my cute new shirt (I paid full price for the necklace.  I can't even type the price because it was shocking.  More than I ever spend on jewelry and I usually spend $0 on jewelry because the only jewelry I wear with any consistency is my wedding ring, but I figured its price balanced my clearance priced shirt.).  I squeezed my buns into some dress pants and shoved my feet into some heels.  All in all, I thought it was good.  Until I looked in the mirror.  I had some doubts about the cuteness factor of the shirt...it was a little shapeless and when your body is rather - shall we just go with curvy here? - okay, curvy it is...when you have a curvy top half, shapeless is not a good look.  Actually, shapeless is not a good look for anyone, but as the time was tick-tocking and we had to drive into the big city, I figured my new haircut and some makeup would take the attention off of my shirt and I hustled downstairs.

Matronly.  A word worse than shapeless is matronly and that's how my husband said I looked.  My face must have relayed my inner shock and disbelief because he quickly started back-peddling and telling me that I just looked like a mom who was dressed up to go out for the night.

Not. Any. Better.

I went upstairs as quick as my matronly mom-legs could take me and proceeded to rip through my closet looking for something, anything that didn't make me look old and frumpy.  Because I read between the lines and that's what I heard my husband saying: I was a 34 year old frumpy mom who was trying too hard to get dressed up and go out to dinner.  I'm sure he probably meant that I was looking good, since anything is a step above yoga pants.  And I'd actually taken the time to dry and flat iron my hair and I was wearing full-on make-up (not just mascara...I had eye shadow and lip gloss and everything.  It was a big deal!).  But I was devastated.  And of course nothing he said made me feel better and nothing in my closet was appropriate and nothing in my screwed-up brain was positive.  I tried on 17 different shirts before I realized that if we didn't leave 10 minutes ago we were going to be late.  I put on the original matron-shirt and we left.

I had 30 minutes to calm myself down a little bit and I didn't cry because...make-up, remember?  I didn't have the time or energy to repair that shit.  And Uriah tried to bring me out of my funk.  And I texted my gal, Bees and she, of course, had helpful, lovely things to say that boosted my spirits.

But really...this whole bag of matronly melt-down are my own issues rearing their fat heads again.  It's my own mind and my own lack of ambition and will-power and resolution to be better, to be healthier - eat more healthfully, exercise consistently, think positive thoughts and let the yuck slide off my back.  So last night in the car as we drove towards a ballroom full of people I didn't really know, I stopped caring what they were going to think of my shapeless shirt.  In fact, I stopped thinking about it all together.  I wrapped the word healthy into my head and I vowed to do better.  One day at a time, I will do better.  Because at the end of the day, my husband will still kiss me and tell me I'm pretty like a post card - and I usually don't even have make-up on when he says that, so I know he means it.  He makes thoughtless comments, but then so do I, I suppose.  At least we know enough to apologize for our thoughtless comments.  And at least I know enough to start on the inside and work my way out.

Exercise my brain muscle first...everything else will fall into place.

In addition to my matronly mom issues, I've been stewing on deadbeat mom issues all day long.  Stewing, for me, requires researching.  Did you even know this was an issue?  It is.  It totally, sadly is.  Some studies say that the percentage of deadbeat moms is actually higher than that of deadbeat dads.  I am a mom (obviously) and right now it is completely beyond my realm of comprehension, but I am trying to educate myself so that I can speak thoughtfully on a subject that blows my mind.  I wish so many things of our society, but the one I wish the most is that men and women were treated equally - and that includes areas of custodial and non-custodial parenting rights and responsibilities.  The research part of my brain encourages me to look at all of the facts, weigh all of the statistics and theories.  The mom/wife part of me wants to rage, and rage loudly, at the unfairness of it all.

Part of being healthy this year is going to be letting go of things that I have no control over.  It may also be a healthy throat punch to stupid people.  Maybe.  Possibly.

2014 - healthy mind, healthy body, one day at a time.



Oh, and I'm thinking of getting a dog, but that might be too big of  a commitment for 2014; I think my plate might be full.  Maybe 2015 will be the year of the dog...

I've been thinking about a New Year's Resolution for about, oh, 8 or 9 days now.  I know...procrastinate much? The answer is yes, I do.  But I always make a big, glorious resolution and it lasts for a big, glorious month and then I loose steam and energy and motivation and am left for the rest of the year with a big, glorious anger toward my un-realized resolution.  Oh, and my resolution always, always involves losing a gazillion pounds and finds me looking svelte and chic in a time frame that is not advisable (usually around 1 month.  Okay, I give myself 6 months...usually I have it all planned out for bathing suit season, which I don't believe is an actual "season" where I live.).

Not this year.  This year is different.  This year I bit off an amount I can actually chew.  This year there isn't really a "resolution," per se, it's mostly just a word: healthy.  I want to be healthy and I am not attaching a number to it.  I don't even really have a plan as to how I'm going to get to that healthy point other than taking it one day at a time, tracking my calories in and calories out.  I figure I'm just going to stop feeling unhealthy and I'm going to start feeling healthy. One. Day. At. A. Time.

Seems simple enough, don't you think?

Here's a story: last night we got dressed up to go to Uriah's work Christmas party (I almost typed program like it was going to be a bunch of chef-type people and hotel-type people and corporate-type people getting together and singing songs and doing a little dance number for the audience.  It was a party.  There were drink tickets and dinner and allegedly some entertainment that we didn't stick around for because we have kids and a 30 minute drive back up the shore.).  Anyway, so it was a party, which means we got to get dressed up.  And I got this cute new shirt (that I didn't try on, but it was $7 on clearance at Old Navy so I figured, what the hell, it'll work fine), and I got a cute new necklace to go with my cute new shirt (I paid full price for the necklace.  I can't even type the price because it was shocking.  More than I ever spend on jewelry and I usually spend $0 on jewelry because the only jewelry I wear with any consistency is my wedding ring, but I figured its price balanced my clearance priced shirt.).  I squeezed my buns into some dress pants and shoved my feet into some heels.  All in all, I thought it was good.  Until I looked in the mirror.  I had some doubts about the cuteness factor of the shirt...it was a little shapeless and when your body is rather - shall we just go with curvy here? - okay, curvy it is...when you have a curvy top half, shapeless is not a good look.  Actually, shapeless is not a good look for anyone, but as the time was tick-tocking and we had to drive into the big city, I figured my new haircut and some makeup would take the attention off of my shirt and I hustled downstairs.

Matronly.  A word worse than shapeless is matronly and that's how my husband said I looked.  My face must have relayed my inner shock and disbelief because he quickly started back-peddling and telling me that I just looked like a mom who was dressed up to go out for the night.

Not. Any. Better.

I went upstairs as quick as my matronly mom-legs could take me and proceeded to rip through my closet looking for something, anything that didn't make me look old and frumpy.  Because I read between the lines and that's what I heard my husband saying: I was a 34 year old frumpy mom who was trying too hard to get dressed up and go out to dinner.  I'm sure he probably meant that I was looking good, since anything is a step above yoga pants.  And I'd actually taken the time to dry and flat iron my hair and I was wearing full-on make-up (not just mascara...I had eye shadow and lip gloss and everything.  It was a big deal!).  But I was devastated.  And of course nothing he said made me feel better and nothing in my closet was appropriate and nothing in my screwed-up brain was positive.  I tried on 17 different shirts before I realized that if we didn't leave 10 minutes ago we were going to be late.  I put on the original matron-shirt and we left.

I had 30 minutes to calm myself down a little bit and I didn't cry because...make-up, remember?  I didn't have the time or energy to repair that shit.  And Uriah tried to bring me out of my funk.  And I texted my gal, Bees and she, of course, had helpful, lovely things to say that boosted my spirits.

But really...this whole bag of matronly melt-down are my own issues rearing their fat heads again.  It's my own mind and my own lack of ambition and will-power and resolution to be better, to be healthier - eat more healthfully, exercise consistently, think positive thoughts and let the yuck slide off my back.  So last night in the car as we drove towards a ballroom full of people I didn't really know, I stopped caring what they were going to think of my shapeless shirt.  In fact, I stopped thinking about it all together.  I wrapped the word healthy into my head and I vowed to do better.  One day at a time, I will do better.  Because at the end of the day, my husband will still kiss me and tell me I'm pretty like a post card - and I usually don't even have make-up on when he says that, so I know he means it.  He makes thoughtless comments, but then so do I, I suppose.  At least we know enough to apologize for our thoughtless comments.  And at least I know enough to start on the inside and work my way out.

Exercise my brain muscle first...everything else will fall into place.

In addition to my matronly mom issues, I've been stewing on deadbeat mom issues all day long.  Stewing, for me, requires researching.  Did you even know this was an issue?  It is.  It totally, sadly is.  Some studies say that the percentage of deadbeat moms is actually higher than that of deadbeat dads.  I am a mom (obviously) and right now it is completely beyond my realm of comprehension, but I am trying to educate myself so that I can speak thoughtfully on a subject that blows my mind.  I wish so many things of our society, but the one I wish the most is that men and women were treated equally - and that includes areas of custodial and non-custodial parenting rights and responsibilities.  The research part of my brain encourages me to look at all of the facts, weigh all of the statistics and theories.  The mom/wife part of me wants to rage, and rage loudly, at the unfairness of it all.

Part of being healthy this year is going to be letting go of things that I have no control over.  It may also be a healthy throat punch to stupid people.  Maybe.  Possibly.

2014 - healthy mind, healthy body, one day at a time.



Oh, and I'm thinking of getting a dog, but that might be too big of  a commitment for 2014; I think my plate might be full.  Maybe 2015 will be the year of the dog...

One of those days.

My husband left his work computer at home this morning.

I noticed it when I stumbled downstairs after Finn crawled back into bed with me and informed me in his sweetest voice that he got everything ready for breakfast and it was time to eat now.  I thought he had just gone to the bathroom, but apparently he went downstairs - all the way down to the kitchen where I can't hear anything from all the way up in my room - and pulled out everything he would need to make his breakfast.  Last time he tried this particular trick he actually poured the cereal and milk in his bowl and also all over the counter, step-stool, and floor, so I was fearful of what might greet me in the kitchen before coffee. Luckily this morning he wanted hot cereal.  He knows about the stove - for mamas and daddies only! - so he just had everything laid out on the counter with the precision of a surgeon: cereal box, marshmallows, milk, spoon, bowl, bread, knife, spoon for jelly, jelly.

I pushed start on the coffee (because I get that shit ready the night before) and proceeded to make coco-wheats with marshmallows while Finn told me he would put the bread in the toaster and he push the button down and explained that he needed to get dressed soon so he could have all day clothes day but that I could have all day pajama day (so benevolent, my son) and could I please make the marshmallows into the shape of an n and what starts with n and he needed to test to jelly to "make sure it didn't get solid." Solid is Finn-speak for poisoned; I always tell him that I have to test his food - french fries, Halloween candy, ice cream cones, chocolate cake - to make sure they are not poisoned.  It stems from years trick-or-treating in the world's smallest town and being unable to eat our candy until our parents looked it over to make sure the packages weren't tampered with, there were no needles in our Butterfingers, and crack-cocaine wasn't moonlighting as a box of Nerds. It was the 80s...drugs were everywhere and parents needed to be vigilant. I'm just carrying on as my mother before me did: vigilant.

Anyway, I drank three cups of coffee while Finn ate his breakfast.  I read a chapter of my book (I'm trying to make this one last because it is so good) and then I watered some plants.  It's Monday and that's plant watering day - and the sun is sort of out, so I had to put them all on the kitchen table to soak it up.  I drank another cup of coffee and read another chapter of my book.  Finn dumped the rainbow rice on the floor and made 3 trips down to the kitchen with various construction trucks and dinosaurs.  I stepped an a million little rice grains to get the load (from yesterday) out of the dryer.  I read another chapter in my book, drank another cup of coffee and contemplated what needed to get done today.  I ignored the mental list and read another chapter.  I talked myself into taking out the trash and the compost (it's 20 below here; it takes some mental preparation to go outside when it's that cold but it's garbage man day, so it needed to be done).

Finn decided, in the midst of his field of rainbow rice, that he needed to take a morning bath.  I obliged and loaded the tub with hot water and bubbles, tossed him in and snuggled on my bed to read another chapter.

Now - usually on extremely lazy days like this, I make sure that by the time my husband comes home from work in the evening, everything looks presentable and the day appears to have been somewhat productive. The dishwasher has been emptied, the living room and library have been tidied of random books and hotwheels, the kitchen counters are wiped down and the chairs are pushed in around the table.  There aren't any coats and mittens laying around and the couch cushions are neat and orderly.  When I worked, I always liked to come home from a long day to a semi-neat house and I feel like it's a nice thing to do for my husband when he comes home (does that sound very circa-1950? I don't change my apron, apply fresh lipstick or pinch my cheeks to give them some color before he get's home, though.).

Today, however, it was only 11:30 - I had the whole day ahead of me to get my 1950s housewife on.  And then I heard the door open and heavy feet coming up the stairs.  It was one of two things: either Finn and I were about to be made into sausage by a crazed lunatic or my husband popped home in the middle of the day.  And then I remembered the work computer left on the coffee table.  Knowing that he had to step over 12 million grains of rainbow rice in the kitchen, walk through a maze of trains and hotwheels, bypass sloppy couch cushions and come upstairs to find me snug in bed with a book and our son taking what is referred to in our house as a "day bath," I was secretly hoping for a crazed lunatic.

My husband knows that I work hard for this house; dinner is made in a timely manner, clothes are washed and put away, I can be counted on to dust occasionally, the floor usually gets swept, the bathroom is almost always clean and I make the bed most days.  But we have had some heated discussions about just what gets done around the house on a daily basis and individual contributions (his and mine) and stimulating my kid's brain isn't always readily apparent to the naked (albeit tired) eye.  So it's days like today when I seem to have made his argument for him - still in my jammies, reading, in bed at nearly noon! - that I feel like a stay at home mom failure.

I know that I'm not - I know that some days require getting dressed and slapping on mascara and some days require little more than a marathon of stories and painting and glue and scissors.  Today is the latter.  Our house will look relatively put-together when my husband gets home this evening; there will be new Finn artwork on the refrigerator door and all the freshly-watered plants will be off the kitchen table and back in their normal spots.  I will have swept up rainbow rice at least three times. There will be a plate for him to heat up and we will chat idly about our respective days while he eats his dinner.  It's just that my daily summary will be somewhat short: finished my book, cleaned a little, painted with dinosaurs.

My husband left his work computer at home this morning.

I noticed it when I stumbled downstairs after Finn crawled back into bed with me and informed me in his sweetest voice that he got everything ready for breakfast and it was time to eat now.  I thought he had just gone to the bathroom, but apparently he went downstairs - all the way down to the kitchen where I can't hear anything from all the way up in my room - and pulled out everything he would need to make his breakfast.  Last time he tried this particular trick he actually poured the cereal and milk in his bowl and also all over the counter, step-stool, and floor, so I was fearful of what might greet me in the kitchen before coffee. Luckily this morning he wanted hot cereal.  He knows about the stove - for mamas and daddies only! - so he just had everything laid out on the counter with the precision of a surgeon: cereal box, marshmallows, milk, spoon, bowl, bread, knife, spoon for jelly, jelly.

I pushed start on the coffee (because I get that shit ready the night before) and proceeded to make coco-wheats with marshmallows while Finn told me he would put the bread in the toaster and he push the button down and explained that he needed to get dressed soon so he could have all day clothes day but that I could have all day pajama day (so benevolent, my son) and could I please make the marshmallows into the shape of an n and what starts with n and he needed to test to jelly to "make sure it didn't get solid." Solid is Finn-speak for poisoned; I always tell him that I have to test his food - french fries, Halloween candy, ice cream cones, chocolate cake - to make sure they are not poisoned.  It stems from years trick-or-treating in the world's smallest town and being unable to eat our candy until our parents looked it over to make sure the packages weren't tampered with, there were no needles in our Butterfingers, and crack-cocaine wasn't moonlighting as a box of Nerds. It was the 80s...drugs were everywhere and parents needed to be vigilant. I'm just carrying on as my mother before me did: vigilant.

Anyway, I drank three cups of coffee while Finn ate his breakfast.  I read a chapter of my book (I'm trying to make this one last because it is so good) and then I watered some plants.  It's Monday and that's plant watering day - and the sun is sort of out, so I had to put them all on the kitchen table to soak it up.  I drank another cup of coffee and read another chapter of my book.  Finn dumped the rainbow rice on the floor and made 3 trips down to the kitchen with various construction trucks and dinosaurs.  I stepped an a million little rice grains to get the load (from yesterday) out of the dryer.  I read another chapter in my book, drank another cup of coffee and contemplated what needed to get done today.  I ignored the mental list and read another chapter.  I talked myself into taking out the trash and the compost (it's 20 below here; it takes some mental preparation to go outside when it's that cold but it's garbage man day, so it needed to be done).

Finn decided, in the midst of his field of rainbow rice, that he needed to take a morning bath.  I obliged and loaded the tub with hot water and bubbles, tossed him in and snuggled on my bed to read another chapter.

Now - usually on extremely lazy days like this, I make sure that by the time my husband comes home from work in the evening, everything looks presentable and the day appears to have been somewhat productive. The dishwasher has been emptied, the living room and library have been tidied of random books and hotwheels, the kitchen counters are wiped down and the chairs are pushed in around the table.  There aren't any coats and mittens laying around and the couch cushions are neat and orderly.  When I worked, I always liked to come home from a long day to a semi-neat house and I feel like it's a nice thing to do for my husband when he comes home (does that sound very circa-1950? I don't change my apron, apply fresh lipstick or pinch my cheeks to give them some color before he get's home, though.).

Today, however, it was only 11:30 - I had the whole day ahead of me to get my 1950s housewife on.  And then I heard the door open and heavy feet coming up the stairs.  It was one of two things: either Finn and I were about to be made into sausage by a crazed lunatic or my husband popped home in the middle of the day.  And then I remembered the work computer left on the coffee table.  Knowing that he had to step over 12 million grains of rainbow rice in the kitchen, walk through a maze of trains and hotwheels, bypass sloppy couch cushions and come upstairs to find me snug in bed with a book and our son taking what is referred to in our house as a "day bath," I was secretly hoping for a crazed lunatic.

My husband knows that I work hard for this house; dinner is made in a timely manner, clothes are washed and put away, I can be counted on to dust occasionally, the floor usually gets swept, the bathroom is almost always clean and I make the bed most days.  But we have had some heated discussions about just what gets done around the house on a daily basis and individual contributions (his and mine) and stimulating my kid's brain isn't always readily apparent to the naked (albeit tired) eye.  So it's days like today when I seem to have made his argument for him - still in my jammies, reading, in bed at nearly noon! - that I feel like a stay at home mom failure.

I know that I'm not - I know that some days require getting dressed and slapping on mascara and some days require little more than a marathon of stories and painting and glue and scissors.  Today is the latter.  Our house will look relatively put-together when my husband gets home this evening; there will be new Finn artwork on the refrigerator door and all the freshly-watered plants will be off the kitchen table and back in their normal spots.  I will have swept up rainbow rice at least three times. There will be a plate for him to heat up and we will chat idly about our respective days while he eats his dinner.  It's just that my daily summary will be somewhat short: finished my book, cleaned a little, painted with dinosaurs.

Fall into you.

Last night we celebrated being The Hefters.  Abby baby-sat Finn (for the first time alone and almost successfully.  Another story for another time, but I will tell you this: 3 year olds are the best nanny-cam ever. Given a little pressure, they crumble like a house of cards.), we got to power shop through a few stores to find Finn a Halloween costume, found out after waiting for 30 minutes that I'm not eligible for a phone upgrade until April (I should probably stop dropping mine), and Uriah let me dream in the Coach store for 10 whole minutes (I'm never brave enough to go in there with Finn in tow).  He told me that the 4 year anniversary present was not, in fact, a $400 purse ($100 for every year I've put up with him seemed logical to me).  We had dinner downtown and we made each other laugh.  A lot.  We might have decided that we should get a cat...strictly for writing-muse purposes only.  We ate ice cream in the car on the way home singing John Denver songs off-key (well, I sang them off-key, obviously not Uriah) and we ended the night in our favorite way...reading in bed.  (Oh, you dirty minds.  This blog is wholesome.)


And I told him this morning that I would choose him all over again.
In a heartbeat.

Last night we celebrated being The Hefters.  Abby baby-sat Finn (for the first time alone and almost successfully.  Another story for another time, but I will tell you this: 3 year olds are the best nanny-cam ever. Given a little pressure, they crumble like a house of cards.), we got to power shop through a few stores to find Finn a Halloween costume, found out after waiting for 30 minutes that I'm not eligible for a phone upgrade until April (I should probably stop dropping mine), and Uriah let me dream in the Coach store for 10 whole minutes (I'm never brave enough to go in there with Finn in tow).  He told me that the 4 year anniversary present was not, in fact, a $400 purse ($100 for every year I've put up with him seemed logical to me).  We had dinner downtown and we made each other laugh.  A lot.  We might have decided that we should get a cat...strictly for writing-muse purposes only.  We ate ice cream in the car on the way home singing John Denver songs off-key (well, I sang them off-key, obviously not Uriah) and we ended the night in our favorite way...reading in bed.  (Oh, you dirty minds.  This blog is wholesome.)


And I told him this morning that I would choose him all over again.
In a heartbeat.

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...

Mama says there'll be days like these...

I had one of those days yesterday.  You know the kind that you sort of want to forget, but really all you can do is laugh because, after all, isn't this life?  And someday, won't I want to remember the day Finn went streaking 3 times?

I got my early morning workout in.  I met my lovely friend for a walk and chat before the heat of the day made exercise impossible.  I gardened and gardened and gardened, pulling overgrown plants that I'd wanted to remove for weeks now, tending all the little radish and cucumber and squash shoots, feeling relatively proud of my little peas that are starting to make their presence known.  Weeding and watering, weeding and watering.  My hands and legs and feet were a crusty, muddy mess, my back was sunburned and my hair had a tree's worth of sticks tangled up in it.  I may have gotten a little absorbed in my task.

Finn, however, felt that being naked was more his style yesterday.  I glanced up from digging a huge cluster of overgrown something out of the garden, only to see little pink buns race past me.  Luckily our back yard is pretty well shielded from the street, but I dropped my shovel quickly and chased down my little exhibitionist. I explained that we need to keep clothes on when we are outside, re-dressed him, and went back about my business.  I was huffing and puffing and trying to get my shovel all the way under the root cluster (because I do not want these things back!) and I looked up to find Finn - naked again - in the bird bath (it's actually an in-ground water fountain, but we call it a bird bath.  It's not very big, so really, he was only wet up to his knees from splashing, but he had his little naked buns sitting on a nice warm rock).  I plucked him from the water, reminded him again that we need to have clothes on when we're outside, and sent him on his way to make a construction site in the sandbox.

I went back to my digging and sweating and cursing the blasted root systems that are found in nature, when it occurred to me that I couldn't hear construction site "noises."  In fact, I didn't hear anything.  I walked around the side of the house - no Finn in the sandbox.  I walked all the way around the house.  No Finn anywhere.  I walked into the house, and the minute I opened the door, I heard a little voice say: "Just go back outside, Mama.  I'm making a snack."

And there he was, standing on his stool at the counter, half a loaf of bread spread out before him, pouring pancake syrup all over it.  Stark naked.

The appliance repair man came to fix the dishwasher - thankfully, Finn was fully clothed at the time and remained so for the duration of his visit.  The dishwasher started up immediately for him, I'm assuming just to screw with me.  I almost had a heart attack, partly because I couldn't believe it had started and partly because I was excited to bypass that bill.  Unfortunately, it stopped almost as quickly as it started, but after an hour of fiddling around and doing appliancey-things, it's now fixed and we are back to the convenience of a dishwasher.

Our baby-sitter showed up about the same time Uriah got home from work and declared that he still needed to take a shower before we could leave.  All of the power went out in Canal Park, where we wanted to have dinner.  We couldn't find a gift at the toy store down there, so we ended up having to trek up the hill to Target.  We thought about having dinner at a neighborhood place that had been recommended to Uriah, but upon being seated and looking at the menu, we both decided we wanted something different so we got up and left (something I have never done before, and honestly felt a little bit bad about doing, but there was nothing on the menu that appealed to me).  We headed back down to Canal Park to see if the power was back on.  It was hit or miss at most restaurants, the wait was long and everyone was crabby, so we headed back up the shore toward home and had dinner at Clearwater Grille.  At about 8:15.  It wasn't bad, but after sitting on the patio for 10 minutes, it started to sprinkle and the wind picked up, so we headed inside to finish our dinner.

I demanded a date-night redux, which we will need to accomplish before our baby-sitter leaves for college in the fall.  If we go on a quick date within 15 minutes of home, we usually leave Abby in charge of Finn.  However, we do hire a baby-sitter for Finn when we head into Duluth for our date, since that puts us a minimum of 30 minutes away from home, longer if we have to head up the hill.  If something were to happen, Abby is obviously not able to drive yet, so we tend to err on the side of caution and leave him with someone who could schlep him to the ER if necessary.  



Blast from the past:
My little one-year-old chubby lump, back when morning and afternoon naps were necessary. | August 2011

I had one of those days yesterday.  You know the kind that you sort of want to forget, but really all you can do is laugh because, after all, isn't this life?  And someday, won't I want to remember the day Finn went streaking 3 times?

I got my early morning workout in.  I met my lovely friend for a walk and chat before the heat of the day made exercise impossible.  I gardened and gardened and gardened, pulling overgrown plants that I'd wanted to remove for weeks now, tending all the little radish and cucumber and squash shoots, feeling relatively proud of my little peas that are starting to make their presence known.  Weeding and watering, weeding and watering.  My hands and legs and feet were a crusty, muddy mess, my back was sunburned and my hair had a tree's worth of sticks tangled up in it.  I may have gotten a little absorbed in my task.

Finn, however, felt that being naked was more his style yesterday.  I glanced up from digging a huge cluster of overgrown something out of the garden, only to see little pink buns race past me.  Luckily our back yard is pretty well shielded from the street, but I dropped my shovel quickly and chased down my little exhibitionist. I explained that we need to keep clothes on when we are outside, re-dressed him, and went back about my business.  I was huffing and puffing and trying to get my shovel all the way under the root cluster (because I do not want these things back!) and I looked up to find Finn - naked again - in the bird bath (it's actually an in-ground water fountain, but we call it a bird bath.  It's not very big, so really, he was only wet up to his knees from splashing, but he had his little naked buns sitting on a nice warm rock).  I plucked him from the water, reminded him again that we need to have clothes on when we're outside, and sent him on his way to make a construction site in the sandbox.

I went back to my digging and sweating and cursing the blasted root systems that are found in nature, when it occurred to me that I couldn't hear construction site "noises."  In fact, I didn't hear anything.  I walked around the side of the house - no Finn in the sandbox.  I walked all the way around the house.  No Finn anywhere.  I walked into the house, and the minute I opened the door, I heard a little voice say: "Just go back outside, Mama.  I'm making a snack."

And there he was, standing on his stool at the counter, half a loaf of bread spread out before him, pouring pancake syrup all over it.  Stark naked.

The appliance repair man came to fix the dishwasher - thankfully, Finn was fully clothed at the time and remained so for the duration of his visit.  The dishwasher started up immediately for him, I'm assuming just to screw with me.  I almost had a heart attack, partly because I couldn't believe it had started and partly because I was excited to bypass that bill.  Unfortunately, it stopped almost as quickly as it started, but after an hour of fiddling around and doing appliancey-things, it's now fixed and we are back to the convenience of a dishwasher.

Our baby-sitter showed up about the same time Uriah got home from work and declared that he still needed to take a shower before we could leave.  All of the power went out in Canal Park, where we wanted to have dinner.  We couldn't find a gift at the toy store down there, so we ended up having to trek up the hill to Target.  We thought about having dinner at a neighborhood place that had been recommended to Uriah, but upon being seated and looking at the menu, we both decided we wanted something different so we got up and left (something I have never done before, and honestly felt a little bit bad about doing, but there was nothing on the menu that appealed to me).  We headed back down to Canal Park to see if the power was back on.  It was hit or miss at most restaurants, the wait was long and everyone was crabby, so we headed back up the shore toward home and had dinner at Clearwater Grille.  At about 8:15.  It wasn't bad, but after sitting on the patio for 10 minutes, it started to sprinkle and the wind picked up, so we headed inside to finish our dinner.

I demanded a date-night redux, which we will need to accomplish before our baby-sitter leaves for college in the fall.  If we go on a quick date within 15 minutes of home, we usually leave Abby in charge of Finn.  However, we do hire a baby-sitter for Finn when we head into Duluth for our date, since that puts us a minimum of 30 minutes away from home, longer if we have to head up the hill.  If something were to happen, Abby is obviously not able to drive yet, so we tend to err on the side of caution and leave him with someone who could schlep him to the ER if necessary.  



Blast from the past:
My little one-year-old chubby lump, back when morning and afternoon naps were necessary. | August 2011

On my mind today: Gardens and rain and furniture.

It is rainy and foggy and a little bit chilly today.  Good for growing grass and flowers, I suppose.  I have already cleaned my kitchen (mostly, anyway.  I still have the floors to do.  I always run out of steam  by the floors and wish I could leave them for a merry house elf to finish.), I've started on the bathroom, stripped the beds and made a pot of chicken noodle soup.  Day, accomplished, I'd say.  But probably not since I still have to finish the bathroom and the kitchen floors and re-make the beds.

Finn has been napping all afternoon.  Literally since right after lunch - and we ate lunch before the noon bells rang because he was starving and losing his wee toddler mind.  Growth spurt, I suppose, but maybe Uriah and I wore him out yesterday with all of our furniture shopping.  We have been trying to find a set of bunk beds, either to split apart and put one in each of the kid's rooms or just leave together in Finn's room.  Furniture shopping is not our forte and we had to take a snack break half-way through.  I may have lost my own mind over the insane number of handicap parking spaces in downtown Duluth - as in: every single meter had a handicap sticker on it.  Turns out, what look like handicap signs are really just notices that handicap parking stickers have a certain amount of time to park at the meter - maybe free of charge? - and everyone else can park there, too?  I don't know, I'm guessing.  All I know is after about 3 circles of two different blocks, I finally made Uriah back up into an empty space, I shoved our quarters into one of the damned meters with the white handicap sticker and we walked another block to the furniture store.  We did not get a parking ticket and I apologized twenty times to Uriah for the harsh words I spoke out of hunger.  All that to say we did not purchase anything yesterday.  6 furniture stores and not one purchase.  But, at least we have an idea of what we might want.  I guess.  Or we just wasted an afternoon watching Finn climb the bunk bed ladders and pretend he was a fireman.

So, while Finn naps his Saturday away, I'm ignoring the kitchen floors that are screaming to be swept, and I'm playing with my garden pictures instead.  I inherited the most beautiful gardens with this house last summer and I'm just trying to keep them alive.  And trying to figure out what's planted in them.  Green is shooting up everywhere, along with some red leafy things and some purples and yellows, and the lilac and hydrangea bushes are budding, and the lily of the valley are going to be everywhere very soon.  I could look at those gardens all day long and constantly find something new bursting up through the soil...as long as I can keep the bunnies and the deer away, that is.

It is rainy and foggy and a little bit chilly today.  Good for growing grass and flowers, I suppose.  I have already cleaned my kitchen (mostly, anyway.  I still have the floors to do.  I always run out of steam  by the floors and wish I could leave them for a merry house elf to finish.), I've started on the bathroom, stripped the beds and made a pot of chicken noodle soup.  Day, accomplished, I'd say.  But probably not since I still have to finish the bathroom and the kitchen floors and re-make the beds.

Finn has been napping all afternoon.  Literally since right after lunch - and we ate lunch before the noon bells rang because he was starving and losing his wee toddler mind.  Growth spurt, I suppose, but maybe Uriah and I wore him out yesterday with all of our furniture shopping.  We have been trying to find a set of bunk beds, either to split apart and put one in each of the kid's rooms or just leave together in Finn's room.  Furniture shopping is not our forte and we had to take a snack break half-way through.  I may have lost my own mind over the insane number of handicap parking spaces in downtown Duluth - as in: every single meter had a handicap sticker on it.  Turns out, what look like handicap signs are really just notices that handicap parking stickers have a certain amount of time to park at the meter - maybe free of charge? - and everyone else can park there, too?  I don't know, I'm guessing.  All I know is after about 3 circles of two different blocks, I finally made Uriah back up into an empty space, I shoved our quarters into one of the damned meters with the white handicap sticker and we walked another block to the furniture store.  We did not get a parking ticket and I apologized twenty times to Uriah for the harsh words I spoke out of hunger.  All that to say we did not purchase anything yesterday.  6 furniture stores and not one purchase.  But, at least we have an idea of what we might want.  I guess.  Or we just wasted an afternoon watching Finn climb the bunk bed ladders and pretend he was a fireman.

So, while Finn naps his Saturday away, I'm ignoring the kitchen floors that are screaming to be swept, and I'm playing with my garden pictures instead.  I inherited the most beautiful gardens with this house last summer and I'm just trying to keep them alive.  And trying to figure out what's planted in them.  Green is shooting up everywhere, along with some red leafy things and some purples and yellows, and the lilac and hydrangea bushes are budding, and the lily of the valley are going to be everywhere very soon.  I could look at those gardens all day long and constantly find something new bursting up through the soil...as long as I can keep the bunnies and the deer away, that is.

Regarding Husbands.

There was a panel of moms at my Mom's Group last week (okay, it was 2 moms, but we'll call them a panel because they were older, wiser, and more experienced than me).  They took questions, gave advice, shared their stories.  For the most part, I loved what they had to say; they each have raised/are raising successful humans.  They seem to be content with the flurry of activity that surrounds having teens in their houses now and the juggling that goes on with raising multiple people, but they were not so far away from the joys/challenges that come with being fully immersed in the toddler years, either, that they couldn't relate to us.  They looked put together, confident, content in their mom-roles.  They had some really good, insightful things to say about being present and how much easier it was when electronics (phones, computers, iPads) weren't such a time suck for adults and kids.  They made suggestions about ways to be together as a family by doing things that don't require a lot of effort (taking one kid on errands, choosing another to help with a special task during the day).  Simple things to make our kids feel loved and cherished and respected.

But.

And isn't there always a but with me?

But, here's the thing that I did not agree with: that husband-time is not important.

And before I go any further, let me clarify that they were not flaming feminists, slinging their bras around, and shouting that women can do it all and do it better than the men-folk.  They simply said that in the midst of their own hectic child-rearing years, in the swampy trenches of toddler-hood, they didn't really think about making time for their husband; scheduling "couple time" was not a priority. They both agreed that the time just seemed to fit itself into their days, but it wasn't overly thought about or analyzed - and, as such, there wasn't a lot of it.

And I disagree.  Because here's the thing: in a few years, my kids will be out of the house.  And honestly, Uriah and I have never had a house without kids in it.  Yes, Abby was an every-other-weekend kid for a few years, but we still had a kid that we had to think about, plan around, prepare for.  We still had to be responsible and as much as we dreamed, we couldn't just take off on a spur-of-the-moment trip.  So, in a few years, when we fall like a bowling ball into our empty nest, we're going to have to really, really like each other or we are going to struggle being together without having the security of kids to fall back on as fodder for conversation.

I think it is so important for husbands and wives to take time to just be together - to hold hands and make conversations and do things that don't involve the kids.  And it's not that we want to get away from our kids, it's more that we love them enough to want to be with each other forever and that takes time and effort and commitment.  It requires vigilance, lest we fall from the partner roles into the roommate roles.

Marriage, like motherhood, has its dark secrets that people allude to, but don't talk about.  We all know it's hard work.  But really?  It is hard work.  It can get ugly at times.  It is certainly not always fun.  I do not always wake up in the morning, look at my husband and think - "Wow, look at the rainbows emanating from his eyelids!  He should ride to work on a white stallion - or better yet, a unicorn!"  Some mornings I wake up and I think - "I wonder if he will remember to close the dresser drawers after he gets dressed?" and "Will he be home in time for dinner and cover at least half of the bedtime routine?"  Some days I can be selfish and ungrateful and some days he can be tired and crabby and everything we do seems to rub the other the wrong way.

When we get to that point - and it comes in ebbs and flows - I know we need to step back, reassess, and most importantly, reconnect.

What I'm trying to say is that my husband is important   And he's important to me in a way that supersedes his role as a dad.  He's important as my balance in life.  He's there to hold my hand and rub my back and kiss my forehead while I clean up the kitchen.  He's there for me to share the funny things our kids do during the day and he's there to be good cop to my bad cop when the law needs laying.  He's there to listen to my wildest dreams - and then challenge me to attain them, help me reach them, and cheer me on as I accomplish them.  And I would move mountains for him.

He is my partner in this little life we're brewing and he's my best friend.  If I don't take care of that, if I don't nourish that friendship with the utmost care, then all of this will be for naught because someday we won't even know the people we've become.

There was a panel of moms at my Mom's Group last week (okay, it was 2 moms, but we'll call them a panel because they were older, wiser, and more experienced than me).  They took questions, gave advice, shared their stories.  For the most part, I loved what they had to say; they each have raised/are raising successful humans.  They seem to be content with the flurry of activity that surrounds having teens in their houses now and the juggling that goes on with raising multiple people, but they were not so far away from the joys/challenges that come with being fully immersed in the toddler years, either, that they couldn't relate to us.  They looked put together, confident, content in their mom-roles.  They had some really good, insightful things to say about being present and how much easier it was when electronics (phones, computers, iPads) weren't such a time suck for adults and kids.  They made suggestions about ways to be together as a family by doing things that don't require a lot of effort (taking one kid on errands, choosing another to help with a special task during the day).  Simple things to make our kids feel loved and cherished and respected.

But.

And isn't there always a but with me?

But, here's the thing that I did not agree with: that husband-time is not important.

And before I go any further, let me clarify that they were not flaming feminists, slinging their bras around, and shouting that women can do it all and do it better than the men-folk.  They simply said that in the midst of their own hectic child-rearing years, in the swampy trenches of toddler-hood, they didn't really think about making time for their husband; scheduling "couple time" was not a priority. They both agreed that the time just seemed to fit itself into their days, but it wasn't overly thought about or analyzed - and, as such, there wasn't a lot of it.

And I disagree.  Because here's the thing: in a few years, my kids will be out of the house.  And honestly, Uriah and I have never had a house without kids in it.  Yes, Abby was an every-other-weekend kid for a few years, but we still had a kid that we had to think about, plan around, prepare for.  We still had to be responsible and as much as we dreamed, we couldn't just take off on a spur-of-the-moment trip.  So, in a few years, when we fall like a bowling ball into our empty nest, we're going to have to really, really like each other or we are going to struggle being together without having the security of kids to fall back on as fodder for conversation.

I think it is so important for husbands and wives to take time to just be together - to hold hands and make conversations and do things that don't involve the kids.  And it's not that we want to get away from our kids, it's more that we love them enough to want to be with each other forever and that takes time and effort and commitment.  It requires vigilance, lest we fall from the partner roles into the roommate roles.

Marriage, like motherhood, has its dark secrets that people allude to, but don't talk about.  We all know it's hard work.  But really?  It is hard work.  It can get ugly at times.  It is certainly not always fun.  I do not always wake up in the morning, look at my husband and think - "Wow, look at the rainbows emanating from his eyelids!  He should ride to work on a white stallion - or better yet, a unicorn!"  Some mornings I wake up and I think - "I wonder if he will remember to close the dresser drawers after he gets dressed?" and "Will he be home in time for dinner and cover at least half of the bedtime routine?"  Some days I can be selfish and ungrateful and some days he can be tired and crabby and everything we do seems to rub the other the wrong way.

When we get to that point - and it comes in ebbs and flows - I know we need to step back, reassess, and most importantly, reconnect.

What I'm trying to say is that my husband is important   And he's important to me in a way that supersedes his role as a dad.  He's important as my balance in life.  He's there to hold my hand and rub my back and kiss my forehead while I clean up the kitchen.  He's there for me to share the funny things our kids do during the day and he's there to be good cop to my bad cop when the law needs laying.  He's there to listen to my wildest dreams - and then challenge me to attain them, help me reach them, and cheer me on as I accomplish them.  And I would move mountains for him.

He is my partner in this little life we're brewing and he's my best friend.  If I don't take care of that, if I don't nourish that friendship with the utmost care, then all of this will be for naught because someday we won't even know the people we've become.

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!

Home is wherever I'm with you.

We zig-zagged through the city.  Down I-70, circumventing downtown, and we slipped into our old neighborhood.  We drove through the blocks that defined us early on and my eyes darted this way and that, taking in the little memories that each road offered up.

How many times did we drive out of the city on Friday afternoon, childless, only to return on Friday night with a back seat full of exuberant Abby?  Our ears ringing, our little apartment exploding with Polly's and ponies and Barbies.  How many weekends were spent criss-crossing the state for a drop-off or a pick-up.  How many miles we covered, hashing out the details of family court, of our future, confirming and assuring that we were making the right choice.  The only choice.  And how many of those long Missouri miles did we drive in silence, holding hands and wishing.

We neared the road to Abby's school; how nervous she was that first day of fourth grade...how nervous we all were as we jumped feet-first into uniforms and after-school care and PTA.  And all those times that she forgot her backpack in our apartment.  And the time I made her go the entire day without it because I wasn't about to turn around down our one-way street again for her to retrieve it.  Her anger was tangible, but the lesson was learned.  And that school sat quietly across a parking lot from the church where we promised to be with each other forever.  Forever is a long time, but that day they were promises easily given.  Promises we'd give again, although maybe now they wouldn't be as easy, knowing what we do.

Every other Friday evening we'd drop Abby off for Girl Scouts at the Baptist Church a neighborhood away and hope that in the span of two hours she'd come away an empowered girl, while we slipped into a neighborhood watering hole to wait.

If I close my eyes, I can walk down the hall of our apartment.  The huge bedroom that we foolishly thought we could squeeze a baby and all his accouterments into.  Our tiny bathroom, half the size of the outdoor patio that drew us in the first place, with the square smaller-than-a-tub-but-larger-than-a-shower stall.  Our tiny kitchen and the carpeted dining room and Megan coming over a couple of times a week to eat with us, because for a brief and glorious time, we were neighbors.  And Abby starting our tradition of beginning a meal with each of us saying one thing we're thankful for.  We still do that.  And the time we took our dining table apart so that we could put it on our patio and eat al fresco on a humid Missouri evening, with the sounds of Plaza traffic and cicadas serenading us as we ate and our containers full of flowers and herbs and plants nearly blocking anyone on the street from seeing us.

I remember where I was laying on the floor in the front room when Uriah came home with family court news, and then  throwing the paperwork across the living room and wishing there was more space because that small apartment was not big enough to hold my anger.  I remember sitting on our couch on a spring afternoon, after spending the day washing away the winter from our windows; I gave Uriah two dates for a wedding - or the option to back out.  We started planning in the warm sunshine how to make official what we'd known for years: we were meant to be together.  And I remember standing in front of Abby's closet as he proposed to me for real, with a ring that didn't come from a candy machine.  And I demanded he get down on one knee and do it proper.  And I was so happy.

As we drove through Kansas City proper, with every road we turned down and each glimpse of the sky line, a memory shot up and I found myself nostalgic and a little sad.  We won't ever have that life again - city life with one kid who only came every other weekend.  The carefree ability to have cheese and crackers and wine for dinner and then walk down to the Plaza and take our time browsing though Pottery Barn and Barnes & Noble without having to maneuver a stroller or find the nearest bathroom; those days are long gone.  But I like where our life is now.  I like walking, instead, to the library and stopping at the park to take our time climbing the ladders and sliding and swinging.  I like that our skyline is the shore of Lake Superior.

There will always be a piece of my heart that belongs to Kansas City.  It's where our story started; where we got married and had a baby and planted the seeds that would become our life, even if that life has been uprooted and replanted a time or two.  So much of our early life is squished into the corners and streets and buildings, but it is a memory town now.

I will be grateful for all the roads that twisted and turned to get us to this spot.

We zig-zagged through the city.  Down I-70, circumventing downtown, and we slipped into our old neighborhood.  We drove through the blocks that defined us early on and my eyes darted this way and that, taking in the little memories that each road offered up.

How many times did we drive out of the city on Friday afternoon, childless, only to return on Friday night with a back seat full of exuberant Abby?  Our ears ringing, our little apartment exploding with Polly's and ponies and Barbies.  How many weekends were spent criss-crossing the state for a drop-off or a pick-up.  How many miles we covered, hashing out the details of family court, of our future, confirming and assuring that we were making the right choice.  The only choice.  And how many of those long Missouri miles did we drive in silence, holding hands and wishing.

We neared the road to Abby's school; how nervous she was that first day of fourth grade...how nervous we all were as we jumped feet-first into uniforms and after-school care and PTA.  And all those times that she forgot her backpack in our apartment.  And the time I made her go the entire day without it because I wasn't about to turn around down our one-way street again for her to retrieve it.  Her anger was tangible, but the lesson was learned.  And that school sat quietly across a parking lot from the church where we promised to be with each other forever.  Forever is a long time, but that day they were promises easily given.  Promises we'd give again, although maybe now they wouldn't be as easy, knowing what we do.

Every other Friday evening we'd drop Abby off for Girl Scouts at the Baptist Church a neighborhood away and hope that in the span of two hours she'd come away an empowered girl, while we slipped into a neighborhood watering hole to wait.

If I close my eyes, I can walk down the hall of our apartment.  The huge bedroom that we foolishly thought we could squeeze a baby and all his accouterments into.  Our tiny bathroom, half the size of the outdoor patio that drew us in the first place, with the square smaller-than-a-tub-but-larger-than-a-shower stall.  Our tiny kitchen and the carpeted dining room and Megan coming over a couple of times a week to eat with us, because for a brief and glorious time, we were neighbors.  And Abby starting our tradition of beginning a meal with each of us saying one thing we're thankful for.  We still do that.  And the time we took our dining table apart so that we could put it on our patio and eat al fresco on a humid Missouri evening, with the sounds of Plaza traffic and cicadas serenading us as we ate and our containers full of flowers and herbs and plants nearly blocking anyone on the street from seeing us.

I remember where I was laying on the floor in the front room when Uriah came home with family court news, and then  throwing the paperwork across the living room and wishing there was more space because that small apartment was not big enough to hold my anger.  I remember sitting on our couch on a spring afternoon, after spending the day washing away the winter from our windows; I gave Uriah two dates for a wedding - or the option to back out.  We started planning in the warm sunshine how to make official what we'd known for years: we were meant to be together.  And I remember standing in front of Abby's closet as he proposed to me for real, with a ring that didn't come from a candy machine.  And I demanded he get down on one knee and do it proper.  And I was so happy.

As we drove through Kansas City proper, with every road we turned down and each glimpse of the sky line, a memory shot up and I found myself nostalgic and a little sad.  We won't ever have that life again - city life with one kid who only came every other weekend.  The carefree ability to have cheese and crackers and wine for dinner and then walk down to the Plaza and take our time browsing though Pottery Barn and Barnes & Noble without having to maneuver a stroller or find the nearest bathroom; those days are long gone.  But I like where our life is now.  I like walking, instead, to the library and stopping at the park to take our time climbing the ladders and sliding and swinging.  I like that our skyline is the shore of Lake Superior.

There will always be a piece of my heart that belongs to Kansas City.  It's where our story started; where we got married and had a baby and planted the seeds that would become our life, even if that life has been uprooted and replanted a time or two.  So much of our early life is squished into the corners and streets and buildings, but it is a memory town now.

I will be grateful for all the roads that twisted and turned to get us to this spot.

Balance

This is from 2006.

Life was quiet and dating was long-distance, but super fun and we could have more than one cocktail with dinner.  I'm trying to remind myself that we were fun once - going to the state fair and walking to Kansas (it was literally a block from our first apartment, but it was always fun to say we walked all the way to Kansas.) and spending an evening roaming the shelves at Barnes and Noble and picking out furniture at Restoration Hardware that we were never going to buy and holding hands while we walked down the sidewalk and kissing at stoplights.

Now a good night is when Finn allows himself to relax enough that we don't have to sit by his bed for 45 minutes until he falls asleep, because hearing "I just need a snuggle" between sobs is heartbreaking.  A really good night is when he doesn't get in bed with us until after 6 am.  Abby dipped her toes into teenage rebellion this weekend.  Actually, she stepped in up to her ankles.  I have no words for the crushing exhaustion that episode turned into.

I find this parenting from the trenches is straining to our relationship and I'm endeavoring to find ways that we can put the exhausting part of parenting aside, even for just an evening, and remember what it was like before our conversations included poop discussions and puberty hormones.  Some nights that means foregoing the ten o'clock news for a game of cribbage or Scrabble.  Some nights it's date night in.  We need to work on date night out more.  I'm trying to let go of the control more: Abby gets to make dinner every Tuesday and this afternoon I let her loose in the kitchen to make chocolate cupcakes - and low and behold, I got only the minimal amount of complaining when I sent her outside to do some shoveling, instead of her usual "I am not your slave!" speech.  I let Finn eat ice cream for breakfast this morning, and after he put his spoon in the sink and his paper carton in the trash by himself, he said to me, "That was a lovely breakfast!" and we snuggled on the couch.

Is it really as simple as cupcakes and ice cream?  Do I really just need to pull back a little to see big rewards?  Can we find a balance between parenting/jobs/housework and being a married couple who feels that spark from when we were first dating?

I don't know, but I'm will to try and find out.

This is from 2006.

Life was quiet and dating was long-distance, but super fun and we could have more than one cocktail with dinner.  I'm trying to remind myself that we were fun once - going to the state fair and walking to Kansas (it was literally a block from our first apartment, but it was always fun to say we walked all the way to Kansas.) and spending an evening roaming the shelves at Barnes and Noble and picking out furniture at Restoration Hardware that we were never going to buy and holding hands while we walked down the sidewalk and kissing at stoplights.

Now a good night is when Finn allows himself to relax enough that we don't have to sit by his bed for 45 minutes until he falls asleep, because hearing "I just need a snuggle" between sobs is heartbreaking.  A really good night is when he doesn't get in bed with us until after 6 am.  Abby dipped her toes into teenage rebellion this weekend.  Actually, she stepped in up to her ankles.  I have no words for the crushing exhaustion that episode turned into.

I find this parenting from the trenches is straining to our relationship and I'm endeavoring to find ways that we can put the exhausting part of parenting aside, even for just an evening, and remember what it was like before our conversations included poop discussions and puberty hormones.  Some nights that means foregoing the ten o'clock news for a game of cribbage or Scrabble.  Some nights it's date night in.  We need to work on date night out more.  I'm trying to let go of the control more: Abby gets to make dinner every Tuesday and this afternoon I let her loose in the kitchen to make chocolate cupcakes - and low and behold, I got only the minimal amount of complaining when I sent her outside to do some shoveling, instead of her usual "I am not your slave!" speech.  I let Finn eat ice cream for breakfast this morning, and after he put his spoon in the sink and his paper carton in the trash by himself, he said to me, "That was a lovely breakfast!" and we snuggled on the couch.

Is it really as simple as cupcakes and ice cream?  Do I really just need to pull back a little to see big rewards?  Can we find a balance between parenting/jobs/housework and being a married couple who feels that spark from when we were first dating?

I don't know, but I'm will to try and find out.

Happy Halloweener!

I think by now it's safe to say that I get nostalgic around the holidays (any holiday, really, except possibly Columbus Day.).  I like to look back and see how big my baby has gotten and Halloween is no different.  Plus, Finn has finally fallen asleep from his sugar high and Uriah and I are going to sit down to a quiet- adults only - dinner, so my photo editing minutes are numbered.  

Enjoy Finn's Halloweeners:

2010 - 3 months old

2011 - 15 months old

2012 - 2 years old

More kiddie costumes tomorrow...or the next day.  And I have a granola recipe that I want to share and, of course, another soup (weight loss has been shaky, but I'm back on the wagon!  None Not a lot of that blasted candy for me!).  Finn and I have been filling our days with stuff and at the end of it I'm not really sure what we've accomplished but I am sure that I'm tired.

Happy Halloweener!

I think by now it's safe to say that I get nostalgic around the holidays (any holiday, really, except possibly Columbus Day.).  I like to look back and see how big my baby has gotten and Halloween is no different.  Plus, Finn has finally fallen asleep from his sugar high and Uriah and I are going to sit down to a quiet- adults only - dinner, so my photo editing minutes are numbered.  

Enjoy Finn's Halloweeners:

2010 - 3 months old

2011 - 15 months old

2012 - 2 years old

More kiddie costumes tomorrow...or the next day.  And I have a granola recipe that I want to share and, of course, another soup (weight loss has been shaky, but I'm back on the wagon!  None Not a lot of that blasted candy for me!).  Finn and I have been filling our days with stuff and at the end of it I'm not really sure what we've accomplished but I am sure that I'm tired.

Happy Halloweener!

What we've been up to...

Finn was the lucky recipient of some Elmo bedding from Cousin Dane.

I finally got my sofa up here Missouri.  It is good for naps and for watching the news.

5 months without a sofa is a long, long time.

 Leaves are falling and raking takes more time because someone wants to jump in every pile.

I also caught him "fishing" in a pile with a stick.  He told me he wasn't catching anything.

Sort of like his Dad...

 The rain has finally started to come and Finn wants to use the umbrella all of the time.

We also looked at some rain boots at Target.  There were firetruck rain boots and Hello, Kitty rain boots.

Finn wants the Kitty rain boots.

 This is the only photo I have from our 3rd anniversary.

Trust me, we dressed up - I wore make-up! Uriah wore a tie! 

We went to a fancy-pants restaurant and discussed wedded bliss and kids and life.

No photo from that, but bedtime stories pretty much sum up our happiness.

We were able to spend an afternoon having lunch lunch and hiking with some old-for-me, new-for-Finn friends.  I love catching up with girlfriends as if it hasn't been years since we were able to sit down and talk about our lives.  Conversation fell into place easily.  I like friendships like that.

And then Finn snoozed all the way home. 

I love that, too.

Pumpkins have been carved - a fun project with Uncle Dan and Ady.

Finn tried to eat the pumpkin guts again this year.  We let him.

Abby changed her mind about her design again this year.  We waited patiently.

Abby's has seed teeth and Finn's has angry eyes and a sad mouth, but he loved the eyebrows on Ady's the most.

They look so cute glowing.

 Uriah's parents are in town for the week and they have brought Finn Uriah's old firetruck to play with.

Finn wants to ride it constantly.  And ring the bell.  Luckily it's a quiet bell.

I like bath time the best these days.  

We've been so busy that it seems the only time I have to lay back and rest is when Finn is splish-splashing.

With a baby and the holidays fast approaching, I think it'll be awhile before we sink back into our quiet days.

Finn was the lucky recipient of some Elmo bedding from Cousin Dane.

I finally got my sofa up here Missouri.  It is good for naps and for watching the news.

5 months without a sofa is a long, long time.

 Leaves are falling and raking takes more time because someone wants to jump in every pile.

I also caught him "fishing" in a pile with a stick.  He told me he wasn't catching anything.

Sort of like his Dad...

 The rain has finally started to come and Finn wants to use the umbrella all of the time.

We also looked at some rain boots at Target.  There were firetruck rain boots and Hello, Kitty rain boots.

Finn wants the Kitty rain boots.

 This is the only photo I have from our 3rd anniversary.

Trust me, we dressed up - I wore make-up! Uriah wore a tie! 

We went to a fancy-pants restaurant and discussed wedded bliss and kids and life.

No photo from that, but bedtime stories pretty much sum up our happiness.

We were able to spend an afternoon having lunch lunch and hiking with some old-for-me, new-for-Finn friends.  I love catching up with girlfriends as if it hasn't been years since we were able to sit down and talk about our lives.  Conversation fell into place easily.  I like friendships like that.

And then Finn snoozed all the way home. 

I love that, too.

Pumpkins have been carved - a fun project with Uncle Dan and Ady.

Finn tried to eat the pumpkin guts again this year.  We let him.

Abby changed her mind about her design again this year.  We waited patiently.

Abby's has seed teeth and Finn's has angry eyes and a sad mouth, but he loved the eyebrows on Ady's the most.

They look so cute glowing.

 Uriah's parents are in town for the week and they have brought Finn Uriah's old firetruck to play with.

Finn wants to ride it constantly.  And ring the bell.  Luckily it's a quiet bell.

I like bath time the best these days.  

We've been so busy that it seems the only time I have to lay back and rest is when Finn is splish-splashing.

With a baby and the holidays fast approaching, I think it'll be awhile before we sink back into our quiet days.

It all comes full circle.

This story actually starts a year and a half ago, when my baby was small and the world was covered with snow.  When Christmas was no more than a few weeks away and our world, mine really, started to take on a precarious tilt toward the unknown.

December 2010

We took a trip that wasn't as much a get-away, as it was a let's see if we can get away with this life-style.  We headed to the North Shore of Lake Superior at the beginning of December in 2010.  The scenery was beautiful, not overly cold and not too much snow - until we drove home; then it snowed like the dickens.  During the 10 hour drive back to the relative warmth of Missouri, we discussed the pros and cons of such a huge move, the quickness of their time-frame for wanting Uriah to start, where we would live and how insurance would work, switching schools in the middle of the school year for Abby.  The timing wasn't right for us (I'll be honest - mostly for me.) and we ultimately stayed in Missouri until Uriah took the job in Iowa last year.

And Iowa, for the most part, has been good to us.  We reveled in the small-town life, the ability to walk to the grocery store and the park.  We made library friends and Abby walked to school every single day.  It afforded us the opportunity for me to stay home for awhile and work part-time when I decided I needed to get out of the house and Finn needed some small-person interaction.  Iowa gave me the time to loose some weight, to get on a healthy eating plan, to embrace exercise.  Abby thrived in her school, playing volleyball, basketball and being part of band and choir.  Yes, Iowa has been good to us.  

June 2012

Earlier this summer, however, circumstances in Iowa changed for our family, and we took a family vacation that was equal parts fun and work to the same place we were a year and a half ago.  Once again, we asked ourselves: can we get away with this life-style now?  We dived head-first into the area, looking at neighborhoods, schools and parks.  We discussed the pros and cons of changing schools for the third time in as many years, loading up a U-haul again, getting to know a new area, a new way of life, being a longer distance from both of our families.  And based on so many discussions that I'm pretty sure I was ready to move to Australia (where it never snows), Uriah accepted a job on the North Shore of Lake Superior last week.  

We are moving our family once again, this time to Minnesota.  This time, everything seems to have come together smoothly.  And I am comfortable with the move...I am looking forward to it, even.  Maybe not so much the snow and winter (Duluth gets about 5 feet of snow annually), but I plan to tackle that only when I have to and not a moment sooner.  Abby...well, she'll make her own way in a new town, with new friends to make and a new school to conquer.  She always comes through smelling like roses, that girl.  Finn will get to see trains and big boats pretty much on a daily basis and our new house is only 2 blocks from the park.  Uriah's already talking about learning to kayak on Lake Superior and camping in the state parks that abound up the shore.  

I'm just happy to have Minnesota license plates again.

This story actually starts a year and a half ago, when my baby was small and the world was covered with snow.  When Christmas was no more than a few weeks away and our world, mine really, started to take on a precarious tilt toward the unknown.

December 2010

We took a trip that wasn't as much a get-away, as it was a let's see if we can get away with this life-style.  We headed to the North Shore of Lake Superior at the beginning of December in 2010.  The scenery was beautiful, not overly cold and not too much snow - until we drove home; then it snowed like the dickens.  During the 10 hour drive back to the relative warmth of Missouri, we discussed the pros and cons of such a huge move, the quickness of their time-frame for wanting Uriah to start, where we would live and how insurance would work, switching schools in the middle of the school year for Abby.  The timing wasn't right for us (I'll be honest - mostly for me.) and we ultimately stayed in Missouri until Uriah took the job in Iowa last year.

And Iowa, for the most part, has been good to us.  We reveled in the small-town life, the ability to walk to the grocery store and the park.  We made library friends and Abby walked to school every single day.  It afforded us the opportunity for me to stay home for awhile and work part-time when I decided I needed to get out of the house and Finn needed some small-person interaction.  Iowa gave me the time to loose some weight, to get on a healthy eating plan, to embrace exercise.  Abby thrived in her school, playing volleyball, basketball and being part of band and choir.  Yes, Iowa has been good to us.  

June 2012

Earlier this summer, however, circumstances in Iowa changed for our family, and we took a family vacation that was equal parts fun and work to the same place we were a year and a half ago.  Once again, we asked ourselves: can we get away with this life-style now?  We dived head-first into the area, looking at neighborhoods, schools and parks.  We discussed the pros and cons of changing schools for the third time in as many years, loading up a U-haul again, getting to know a new area, a new way of life, being a longer distance from both of our families.  And based on so many discussions that I'm pretty sure I was ready to move to Australia (where it never snows), Uriah accepted a job on the North Shore of Lake Superior last week.  

We are moving our family once again, this time to Minnesota.  This time, everything seems to have come together smoothly.  And I am comfortable with the move...I am looking forward to it, even.  Maybe not so much the snow and winter (Duluth gets about 5 feet of snow annually), but I plan to tackle that only when I have to and not a moment sooner.  Abby...well, she'll make her own way in a new town, with new friends to make and a new school to conquer.  She always comes through smelling like roses, that girl.  Finn will get to see trains and big boats pretty much on a daily basis and our new house is only 2 blocks from the park.  Uriah's already talking about learning to kayak on Lake Superior and camping in the state parks that abound up the shore.  

I'm just happy to have Minnesota license plates again.

Well played.

Last weekend I told Finn: "Go find your dad!  It's Father's Day and you should spend as much time with him as possible!"  Because he loves me, the little lamb complied.

Did I mention Finn had just filled his baby-drawers with a load of liquid hot magma?

Last weekend I told Finn: "Go find your dad!  It's Father's Day and you should spend as much time with him as possible!"  Because he loves me, the little lamb complied.

Did I mention Finn had just filled his baby-drawers with a load of liquid hot magma?

This pretty much sums it up these days:

{I Should Be Folding Laundry | Something You Did}

{The ArtsyGril Connection | Finagle a Foto}

{and then, she {snapped} | Show off Your Shot}

{I Should Be Folding Laundry | Something You Did}

{The ArtsyGril Connection | Finagle a Foto}

{and then, she {snapped} | Show off Your Shot}

Shake it like a Polaroid picture.

I took my littles and Uriah on an adventure last week to have our monthly family picture taken.  I decided at the beginning of the year that we were going to have one family picture a month if it killed me.  This month it almost did.  Uriah and I had both worked all day and Abby was told to be ready when we got home.  The humidity levels had been on the rise all day, as evidenced by the amount of curl in Finn's hair and the tightness of my rings on my finger.  Some thunder clouds were rolling in, but I was determined to get this month's family photo in a place that was not our home (the previous 4 months have been taken in our house, sue me for wanting something different.).  As it turns out, every day, Finn and I walk past this little stretch of state land while we take our walk and every day I think about who perfect it would be for some family pictures.  I had a vision, I just needed my family to cooperate.

We parked the car and got onto the walking trail for the 5 or so minutes it took us to walk down to my "perfect" location.  You'd think I asked them to jog for all of the "How much farther?" I got.  I didn't, by the way, ask them to jog.  Running in flip-flops is scary, even I know that.  Finn apparently didn't take much of a nap at school because he was clingy and didn't want to stand still at all and I think maybe the grass tickled his legs a bit because he'd lift them really high like he was marching.  He'd say "smile" but then he wouldn't actually, you know, smile and we ended up having to cut our picture taking short because he decided to crap his pants (Potty training is next on my list of things to accomplish.).  Abby is at that awkward stage where she's all arms and legs and doesn't know what to do with herself.  Sometimes she smiles this great, lovely smile that reaches all the way to her eyes, then other times she clams up.  Sometimes she looks totally natural and then the next second, she looks like she's trying out for a TeenVogue photo shoot.  And Uriah was distracted with work stuff.

Next time: diaper bag comes with us.  Phones stay at home.  Abby practices smiling in the mirror prior to the photos.  And I bring a (big) flask of gin.

I took my littles and Uriah on an adventure last week to have our monthly family picture taken.  I decided at the beginning of the year that we were going to have one family picture a month if it killed me.  This month it almost did.  Uriah and I had both worked all day and Abby was told to be ready when we got home.  The humidity levels had been on the rise all day, as evidenced by the amount of curl in Finn's hair and the tightness of my rings on my finger.  Some thunder clouds were rolling in, but I was determined to get this month's family photo in a place that was not our home (the previous 4 months have been taken in our house, sue me for wanting something different.).  As it turns out, every day, Finn and I walk past this little stretch of state land while we take our walk and every day I think about who perfect it would be for some family pictures.  I had a vision, I just needed my family to cooperate.

We parked the car and got onto the walking trail for the 5 or so minutes it took us to walk down to my "perfect" location.  You'd think I asked them to jog for all of the "How much farther?" I got.  I didn't, by the way, ask them to jog.  Running in flip-flops is scary, even I know that.  Finn apparently didn't take much of a nap at school because he was clingy and didn't want to stand still at all and I think maybe the grass tickled his legs a bit because he'd lift them really high like he was marching.  He'd say "smile" but then he wouldn't actually, you know, smile and we ended up having to cut our picture taking short because he decided to crap his pants (Potty training is next on my list of things to accomplish.).  Abby is at that awkward stage where she's all arms and legs and doesn't know what to do with herself.  Sometimes she smiles this great, lovely smile that reaches all the way to her eyes, then other times she clams up.  Sometimes she looks totally natural and then the next second, she looks like she's trying out for a TeenVogue photo shoot.  And Uriah was distracted with work stuff.

Next time: diaper bag comes with us.  Phones stay at home.  Abby practices smiling in the mirror prior to the photos.  And I bring a (big) flask of gin.

Man Meat, Uriah Style

**Note: After sitting on this for a day, I decided to go through and edit some of Uriah's more *ahem* colorful language.  I realize that my husband was probably a sailor in another life time, and even though we had a full-on discussion/argument before I published this yesterday, I can't seem to reconcile myself with some of it (however if our son's first real sentence is laced with a multitude of cuss words, I may be forced to take firmer action.).  So, since this is my blog, I fixed it a teeny-tiny little bit (basically, I removed most of the strong language, although some of it I did leave, because, well, that's Uriah.) and hopefully I will finally stop thinking about it.  Seriously, it has been on my mind constantly.  If you want to read the unabridged version, email me and I'll send you a copy.  Okay.  That's all I have to say on this subject.  Other than...it's a damn fine post and the dinner was obnoxiously good and if you even think for a moment that putting your steak directly on the coals is a stupid idea, think again.  Amazing.  Life altering.  And also, I only ate about half my steak, because let me just tell you, the points value of a 1-pound t-bone was outrageous and I cried a little bit because I couldn't eat the whole thing!

A week ago, my wife and I had a "discussion" about the time and effort it takes to post a blog, more specifically, a food blog. So, WE (her) agreed that this week, I would cook a meal, photograph it, and blog about it. So, here you are.....

HOW TO COOK A MAN MEAL AND SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR MAN (blog)
First, start with this.

 Everyone needs a partner in crime. Mine knows no better. He also loves food. So, he's in. Then add:

 3 years ago, they were giving this shit away. Now, it's $20+ a bottle. F me. But, we're going for overload of flavor. So buy it. Or another cheaper version. But totally MALBEC.

Now, the appetizer:

Take some mini sweet peppers, or Anaheim Chili's and stuff them with Cream Cheese, Shredded Cheese, and Garlic Powder. Then wrap them in bacon. YES, BACON. If meat had a flavored candy, it would be bacon. Then, add these-

Guys will eat veges. Especially grilled. Slice up the squashes, and the onion. (like this)

 The toothpicks help hold the onion together and make for a clean presentation. Now, start the fires of hell.

This, ladies, is a charcoal chimney starter. Fill the bottom with a grocery bag, and the top with this:

For the love of GOD, use JUMBO LUMP CHARCOAL. Kingsford is nice, but it's made of the same stuff that spilled into the gulf. This is basically burnt wood, that will burn again, longer and hotter. USE IT.

Now, light the bottom of the charcoal chimney and let it burn for 25 minutes. It will take that long to get hot. While your waiting, have a glass of this.

Now, when ALL the lumps of charcoal are a sweet fine red, dump them in the grill. Wait 5 minutes, and add the bacon wrapped peppers, along the edges of the pile of coals. Bacon has fat, and fat catches fire if you put it directly over the flame. It should look similar to this:

After 10 or so minutes, add the veges. Directly over the flame is fine, just don't burn the crap out of them...

 Once the peppers an veges are done, pull them off to the side, Now, here's where you freak out your family-

Put the Steaks on the coals. No Shit. Season however you want (and do it heavily to make a crust), but right on the coals. Your man will either:
1. Race to the grill to correct your stupidity.
2. Prepare himself for an evening of lying about how dinner was "ok".
3. Pray to God that there's a frozen pizza at the bottom of the chest freezer.

Tell him to calm down, you read this on a blog, and you obviously know what you're doing. 3-4 minutes each side for Medium Rare. Remove the steaks from the coals and dust off with a pastry brush to remove any coals or ash.When you're done, you should end up with this:

Salad my ass. With all these veges and a 1 pound t-bone, if you can successfully walk to bed after this dinner, consider yourself a winner.

Now please realize that this, is in fact, my first ever blog post. I thought it would be a damn fine idea to write about a meal that the majority of my 1st wife's followers could do, and while doing, scare the crap out of their significant other. I was born an instigator, continue to be so, and fingers crossed will die an instigator. So, get a grill, buy some jumbo lump charcoal, and make someone the best damn steak they've ever had, by freaking them out.

**Note: After sitting on this for a day, I decided to go through and edit some of Uriah's more *ahem* colorful language.  I realize that my husband was probably a sailor in another life time, and even though we had a full-on discussion/argument before I published this yesterday, I can't seem to reconcile myself with some of it (however if our son's first real sentence is laced with a multitude of cuss words, I may be forced to take firmer action.).  So, since this is my blog, I fixed it a teeny-tiny little bit (basically, I removed most of the strong language, although some of it I did leave, because, well, that's Uriah.) and hopefully I will finally stop thinking about it.  Seriously, it has been on my mind constantly.  If you want to read the unabridged version, email me and I'll send you a copy.  Okay.  That's all I have to say on this subject.  Other than...it's a damn fine post and the dinner was obnoxiously good and if you even think for a moment that putting your steak directly on the coals is a stupid idea, think again.  Amazing.  Life altering.  And also, I only ate about half my steak, because let me just tell you, the points value of a 1-pound t-bone was outrageous and I cried a little bit because I couldn't eat the whole thing!

A week ago, my wife and I had a "discussion" about the time and effort it takes to post a blog, more specifically, a food blog. So, WE (her) agreed that this week, I would cook a meal, photograph it, and blog about it. So, here you are.....

HOW TO COOK A MAN MEAL AND SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR MAN (blog)
First, start with this.

 Everyone needs a partner in crime. Mine knows no better. He also loves food. So, he's in. Then add:

 3 years ago, they were giving this shit away. Now, it's $20+ a bottle. F me. But, we're going for overload of flavor. So buy it. Or another cheaper version. But totally MALBEC.

Now, the appetizer:

Take some mini sweet peppers, or Anaheim Chili's and stuff them with Cream Cheese, Shredded Cheese, and Garlic Powder. Then wrap them in bacon. YES, BACON. If meat had a flavored candy, it would be bacon. Then, add these-

Guys will eat veges. Especially grilled. Slice up the squashes, and the onion. (like this)

 The toothpicks help hold the onion together and make for a clean presentation. Now, start the fires of hell.

This, ladies, is a charcoal chimney starter. Fill the bottom with a grocery bag, and the top with this:

For the love of GOD, use JUMBO LUMP CHARCOAL. Kingsford is nice, but it's made of the same stuff that spilled into the gulf. This is basically burnt wood, that will burn again, longer and hotter. USE IT.

Now, light the bottom of the charcoal chimney and let it burn for 25 minutes. It will take that long to get hot. While your waiting, have a glass of this.

Now, when ALL the lumps of charcoal are a sweet fine red, dump them in the grill. Wait 5 minutes, and add the bacon wrapped peppers, along the edges of the pile of coals. Bacon has fat, and fat catches fire if you put it directly over the flame. It should look similar to this:

After 10 or so minutes, add the veges. Directly over the flame is fine, just don't burn the crap out of them...

 Once the peppers an veges are done, pull them off to the side, Now, here's where you freak out your family-

Put the Steaks on the coals. No Shit. Season however you want (and do it heavily to make a crust), but right on the coals. Your man will either:
1. Race to the grill to correct your stupidity.
2. Prepare himself for an evening of lying about how dinner was "ok".
3. Pray to God that there's a frozen pizza at the bottom of the chest freezer.

Tell him to calm down, you read this on a blog, and you obviously know what you're doing. 3-4 minutes each side for Medium Rare. Remove the steaks from the coals and dust off with a pastry brush to remove any coals or ash.When you're done, you should end up with this:

Salad my ass. With all these veges and a 1 pound t-bone, if you can successfully walk to bed after this dinner, consider yourself a winner.

Now please realize that this, is in fact, my first ever blog post. I thought it would be a damn fine idea to write about a meal that the majority of my 1st wife's followers could do, and while doing, scare the crap out of their significant other. I was born an instigator, continue to be so, and fingers crossed will die an instigator. So, get a grill, buy some jumbo lump charcoal, and make someone the best damn steak they've ever had, by freaking them out.