On winter & spring.

Last fall, for a hundred reasons, I didn't plant a single bulb, in fact I barely touched the gardens around our house; I'm not entirely certain I winterized anything out there.

I let the gardens fall under the weight of frost and then snow. All winter long, I ignored them, buried deep just beyond my window panes.  I watched the snowflakes pile one on top of the other until I could no longer see the markers at the end of the garden path or the tip top of the peony bushes that still stood tall in their metal cages because I didn't cut any of the dead branches back at the end of the season.  I sat by as the wind whipped snow into first ankle deep, then knee deep then, in spots, hip deep drifts.  Our back yard was a blanket of fluffy white, mostly quiet and tranquil except when the sun deigned to make an appearance.  Then it hurt my eyes to look outside, the glare bouncing on the razor sharp edges of snowflakes.

Slowly, though, as the winter wore on, I began to think about what was buried deep beneath the frigid mounds.  I began to plan for them again. A thought here, a note of something new to plant there. Sporadic, at best, but thoughts nonetheless.  

By Easter, I was ready to rake and pull and cut and make room for something new and lovely out of the fallow and silent.  I had my rain boots on and my rake and clippers in hand, the sun was warm on the top of my head and my expectations of this early forage into the gardens were low - very low. 

So you can imagine my surprise at the small shoots all over the place, carrying on as if I hadn't neglected them at all. Green leaves curling into the sun, reaching up. From the darkness of winter comes forth abundant spring.

The truth is, we all need that rest, the cold cover of a winter season.  And I found in those moments, as I stared in wonder at my garden's ability to persevere and press on, that I appreciated those fledgling green curls of leaf so much more than I ever have before.  In spite of all of that darkness - or perhaps because of it -  we still have the ability to bloom.

Last fall, for a hundred reasons, I didn't plant a single bulb, in fact I barely touched the gardens around our house; I'm not entirely certain I winterized anything out there.

I let the gardens fall under the weight of frost and then snow. All winter long, I ignored them, buried deep just beyond my window panes.  I watched the snowflakes pile one on top of the other until I could no longer see the markers at the end of the garden path or the tip top of the peony bushes that still stood tall in their metal cages because I didn't cut any of the dead branches back at the end of the season.  I sat by as the wind whipped snow into first ankle deep, then knee deep then, in spots, hip deep drifts.  Our back yard was a blanket of fluffy white, mostly quiet and tranquil except when the sun deigned to make an appearance.  Then it hurt my eyes to look outside, the glare bouncing on the razor sharp edges of snowflakes.

Slowly, though, as the winter wore on, I began to think about what was buried deep beneath the frigid mounds.  I began to plan for them again. A thought here, a note of something new to plant there. Sporadic, at best, but thoughts nonetheless.  

By Easter, I was ready to rake and pull and cut and make room for something new and lovely out of the fallow and silent.  I had my rain boots on and my rake and clippers in hand, the sun was warm on the top of my head and my expectations of this early forage into the gardens were low - very low. 

So you can imagine my surprise at the small shoots all over the place, carrying on as if I hadn't neglected them at all. Green leaves curling into the sun, reaching up. From the darkness of winter comes forth abundant spring.

The truth is, we all need that rest, the cold cover of a winter season.  And I found in those moments, as I stared in wonder at my garden's ability to persevere and press on, that I appreciated those fledgling green curls of leaf so much more than I ever have before.  In spite of all of that darkness - or perhaps because of it -  we still have the ability to bloom.

Valentine's Day Bath

Nothing says "Happy Valentine's Day!" quite like a three-and-a-half year old crapping his pants and and apologizing "because I was playing too hard," trying to clean it up himself "because I'm a big boy, Mama!" And then having to spend your morning disinfecting the entire bathroom because, honestly, his idea of cleanliness just doesn't cut it.

Oh, and I stepped in some poo.  Barefoot.

I love my kid.  I love my life.  But seriously?  Wtf?!

Nothing says "Happy Valentine's Day!" quite like a three-and-a-half year old crapping his pants and and apologizing "because I was playing too hard," trying to clean it up himself "because I'm a big boy, Mama!" And then having to spend your morning disinfecting the entire bathroom because, honestly, his idea of cleanliness just doesn't cut it.

Oh, and I stepped in some poo.  Barefoot.

I love my kid.  I love my life.  But seriously?  Wtf?!

Faux preschool homeschool.

We sat in a sunbeam this morning at the kitchen table. I let the warmth squeeze into my bones and joints and I juiced my brain with a jolt of caffeine - I made a really good pot of coffee this morning.  It can be hit or miss sometimes with my coffee making skills.  I like my coffee not too strong, but strong enough, and filled with enough cream to make it a lovely light brown color (although I've recently switched from real cream to half and half.  That was a sad day for me, but I am coping, thanks for asking). Finn worked on some Aa worksheets that I hastily made up using a combination of Pinterest and Microsoft Word. I attempted to work on some more menu planning (I am so sick and tired of all of the same-old things we've been eating lately that I've been digging into some of my seldom-used cookbooks and trying new recipes from my old favorites.  I cannot believe how bored I have gotten with dinner.).  I wrote a couple of lists for gardening this spring.  Mostly, though, I watched Finn clutch a fat crayon and color all of the capital As.  He kept asking me, "Do you see any more, Mama?" right before he'd spot one and scratch it out with a flourish of green.

We've been attempting a really relaxed version of preschool this week. I hesitate to call it homeschooling because my husband immediately sees red and flashes of lightning spark straight out from his eye holes. Seriously.  He has strong feelings about homeschooling, most of which are attributed to some questionable individuals that he knows who were home schooled. Unfortunately, it's those few bad apples that ruined his bushel (Wow. Terrible, terrible analogy. I apologize, but it sort of works because Finn and I have been talking about the letter A this week). Anyway, I use the term homeschooling really, really loosely in this house because a) it's sort of my job to stimulate my kid's brain b) it's the alphabet, it's not rocket science.

That being said, I'm also a self-diagnosed procrastinator, so most of our "school" this week found me printing off coloring sheets, checking YouTube for a song about the days of the week, and filling in with some Yogarilla.  We played a couple of matching games, worked on a little bit of phonics with the sound of the A, counted apples and alligators, and did some tracing mazes from the preschool workbooks that Finn got for his birthday last year.  It took us about 20 minutes each morning - I spent more time researching and printing a few things off and cursing that my dwindling supply of construction paper yielded zero sheets of green.  I'd like to say that I'll be more prepared for the letter B next week, but...probably not.

If I'm being honest with myself, I know that he'll need to do some structured form on preschool in the fall. He's a quick learner and it's not the "work" part of it that I'm concerned with - I can teach him the alphabet and phonics and counting and probably even some science if I needed to.  The problem is actually Uriah's main concern every time we talk about homeschooling: he's not social enough.  I think it would be different if he had a sibling or 3 or 12 that he could practice sharing or co-playing or imagination-play with (for the record, no one in this house is having 12 kids. Ever. Our advanced age not withstanding, we would've had to have started a long time ago to get to 12 and really, since we can't even agree if a dog would be a blessing or a curse at this point, it's probably for the best we didn't know each other when we were young and ambitious.). Currently, Finn's favorite thing to tell me is: "I don't like to share," and he can seriously lose his shit when kids come over to play because they touch. his. stuff!  Sometimes he spends more time sitting by himself because he can be such a jerk.  I know that it is probably a bit of a phase, and we have talked about how all of his toys stay at his house and no one will take his stuff home with them.  We've tried putting away his "special" things before friends come over.  Nothing works, turns out - all of his toys are "special toys" and are therefore off limits in his mind.

So my plans to homeschool - and eventually homecollege - my son have been put on the back burner for now. He'll do fine when he goes to preschool and eventually kindergarten - and so will I, because by the time he goes to college I will have invented a serum to shrink myself so that I can live in his pocket and go to school with him and make sure he is safe and that he eats his vegetables and stays away from those girls. (You know the girls I'm talking about...the ones that "hang out" on the quad drinking "coffee" instead of going to class and find themselves in Cabo for spring break and end up in their own episode of Girls Gone Wild? The ones looking to earn their MRS Degree? Not with my son, they won't.) He'll learn to share and play nicely. He'll make lots of friends. He'll come home every day and tell me all about his adventures over cookies and milk. Until that day, though, I will be his best friend and I will teach him everything I think he needs to know...the alphabet, the days of the week, counting, and shapes.

And, of course, how much I love him.  That lesson is on-going.

We sat in a sunbeam this morning at the kitchen table. I let the warmth squeeze into my bones and joints and I juiced my brain with a jolt of caffeine - I made a really good pot of coffee this morning.  It can be hit or miss sometimes with my coffee making skills.  I like my coffee not too strong, but strong enough, and filled with enough cream to make it a lovely light brown color (although I've recently switched from real cream to half and half.  That was a sad day for me, but I am coping, thanks for asking). Finn worked on some Aa worksheets that I hastily made up using a combination of Pinterest and Microsoft Word. I attempted to work on some more menu planning (I am so sick and tired of all of the same-old things we've been eating lately that I've been digging into some of my seldom-used cookbooks and trying new recipes from my old favorites.  I cannot believe how bored I have gotten with dinner.).  I wrote a couple of lists for gardening this spring.  Mostly, though, I watched Finn clutch a fat crayon and color all of the capital As.  He kept asking me, "Do you see any more, Mama?" right before he'd spot one and scratch it out with a flourish of green.

We've been attempting a really relaxed version of preschool this week. I hesitate to call it homeschooling because my husband immediately sees red and flashes of lightning spark straight out from his eye holes. Seriously.  He has strong feelings about homeschooling, most of which are attributed to some questionable individuals that he knows who were home schooled. Unfortunately, it's those few bad apples that ruined his bushel (Wow. Terrible, terrible analogy. I apologize, but it sort of works because Finn and I have been talking about the letter A this week). Anyway, I use the term homeschooling really, really loosely in this house because a) it's sort of my job to stimulate my kid's brain b) it's the alphabet, it's not rocket science.

That being said, I'm also a self-diagnosed procrastinator, so most of our "school" this week found me printing off coloring sheets, checking YouTube for a song about the days of the week, and filling in with some Yogarilla.  We played a couple of matching games, worked on a little bit of phonics with the sound of the A, counted apples and alligators, and did some tracing mazes from the preschool workbooks that Finn got for his birthday last year.  It took us about 20 minutes each morning - I spent more time researching and printing a few things off and cursing that my dwindling supply of construction paper yielded zero sheets of green.  I'd like to say that I'll be more prepared for the letter B next week, but...probably not.

If I'm being honest with myself, I know that he'll need to do some structured form on preschool in the fall. He's a quick learner and it's not the "work" part of it that I'm concerned with - I can teach him the alphabet and phonics and counting and probably even some science if I needed to.  The problem is actually Uriah's main concern every time we talk about homeschooling: he's not social enough.  I think it would be different if he had a sibling or 3 or 12 that he could practice sharing or co-playing or imagination-play with (for the record, no one in this house is having 12 kids. Ever. Our advanced age not withstanding, we would've had to have started a long time ago to get to 12 and really, since we can't even agree if a dog would be a blessing or a curse at this point, it's probably for the best we didn't know each other when we were young and ambitious.). Currently, Finn's favorite thing to tell me is: "I don't like to share," and he can seriously lose his shit when kids come over to play because they touch. his. stuff!  Sometimes he spends more time sitting by himself because he can be such a jerk.  I know that it is probably a bit of a phase, and we have talked about how all of his toys stay at his house and no one will take his stuff home with them.  We've tried putting away his "special" things before friends come over.  Nothing works, turns out - all of his toys are "special toys" and are therefore off limits in his mind.

So my plans to homeschool - and eventually homecollege - my son have been put on the back burner for now. He'll do fine when he goes to preschool and eventually kindergarten - and so will I, because by the time he goes to college I will have invented a serum to shrink myself so that I can live in his pocket and go to school with him and make sure he is safe and that he eats his vegetables and stays away from those girls. (You know the girls I'm talking about...the ones that "hang out" on the quad drinking "coffee" instead of going to class and find themselves in Cabo for spring break and end up in their own episode of Girls Gone Wild? The ones looking to earn their MRS Degree? Not with my son, they won't.) He'll learn to share and play nicely. He'll make lots of friends. He'll come home every day and tell me all about his adventures over cookies and milk. Until that day, though, I will be his best friend and I will teach him everything I think he needs to know...the alphabet, the days of the week, counting, and shapes.

And, of course, how much I love him.  That lesson is on-going.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Overheard & Said

• "Mom, I'm just a little tired and crabby."
• "Sharing makes me crabby and it makes me want to walk away."
• F: "Mama, I need to go to school." | M: "What do you need to learn?" | F: "I need to learn to share."
• "Mom!  My imagination is falling down!"
• "Toothpaste is not a snack."
• "Do NOT wipe your nose in books!"

• "Mom, I'm just a little tired and crabby."
• "Sharing makes me crabby and it makes me want to walk away."
• F: "Mama, I need to go to school." | M: "What do you need to learn?" | F: "I need to learn to share."
• "Mom!  My imagination is falling down!"
• "Toothpaste is not a snack."
• "Do NOT wipe your nose in books!"

Extended Stay

You'd think we hadn't seen each other for years and years.

It felt that way, actually.  It was a long week and I was pretty preoccupied - but worth every stressful moment to see how incredibly beautiful and happy my sister was on her wedding day.

We are snug at home now, with no plans to leave for extended periods of time for awhile.  But, you know, all that could change without notice.  Now we can focus on doing some preschool stuff during the week, planning for a visit from Uriah's parents and sister, and my list of things to accomplish is growing with every turn I take in the house - paint the bathroom, finish painting the dining room chairs, wash the windows, clean Finn's closets, bring up/air out cool-weather jackets, find a dry cleaner for the down comforter, get Abby's twin bed ready.  We also need to figure out something to do for our anniversary - a couple's massage sounds like a really, really good plan to me right about now! Abby's JV volleyball is in full-swing, so we also have to work around practice and games.  My mom's group starts up again soon, I'm wait-listed for Finn's once a week preschool class, and I've committed to teaching the 2nd graders religion this year.

I was deluded into thinking we wouldn't be busy...we're just busy in a different way.

I spent the morning diving into my recipes and past menus.  I think my week runs so much better when I'm not struggling to figure out what to make for dinner.  Abby has requested to take her lunch to school this year, so we're giving that a trial run.  I like to give her some variety - not just sandwiches, chips and fruit, so I'm making a list of lunch options, as well.  I planned out a month's worth of rotating breakfasts a while ago - some she can make herself and some I'll do for her on gym mornings.  (For the past month my gym mornings have been non-existent, but I'm hopeful to get back into them regularly starting tomorrow. No more "we're not home" excuses for me!).  Gym mornings will hopefully also turn into writing mornings - so long as Finn stays on his sleeping-in schedule, that is!

It's raining today but I promised Finn a trip to the library.  We've been infrequent visitors as of late and we both miss it, so we are going to put on our rain boots and our sweatshirts, grab our umbrellas and take a rain-walk this afternoon.

Happy (wet) Monday!

You'd think we hadn't seen each other for years and years.

It felt that way, actually.  It was a long week and I was pretty preoccupied - but worth every stressful moment to see how incredibly beautiful and happy my sister was on her wedding day.

We are snug at home now, with no plans to leave for extended periods of time for awhile.  But, you know, all that could change without notice.  Now we can focus on doing some preschool stuff during the week, planning for a visit from Uriah's parents and sister, and my list of things to accomplish is growing with every turn I take in the house - paint the bathroom, finish painting the dining room chairs, wash the windows, clean Finn's closets, bring up/air out cool-weather jackets, find a dry cleaner for the down comforter, get Abby's twin bed ready.  We also need to figure out something to do for our anniversary - a couple's massage sounds like a really, really good plan to me right about now! Abby's JV volleyball is in full-swing, so we also have to work around practice and games.  My mom's group starts up again soon, I'm wait-listed for Finn's once a week preschool class, and I've committed to teaching the 2nd graders religion this year.

I was deluded into thinking we wouldn't be busy...we're just busy in a different way.

I spent the morning diving into my recipes and past menus.  I think my week runs so much better when I'm not struggling to figure out what to make for dinner.  Abby has requested to take her lunch to school this year, so we're giving that a trial run.  I like to give her some variety - not just sandwiches, chips and fruit, so I'm making a list of lunch options, as well.  I planned out a month's worth of rotating breakfasts a while ago - some she can make herself and some I'll do for her on gym mornings.  (For the past month my gym mornings have been non-existent, but I'm hopeful to get back into them regularly starting tomorrow. No more "we're not home" excuses for me!).  Gym mornings will hopefully also turn into writing mornings - so long as Finn stays on his sleeping-in schedule, that is!

It's raining today but I promised Finn a trip to the library.  We've been infrequent visitors as of late and we both miss it, so we are going to put on our rain boots and our sweatshirts, grab our umbrellas and take a rain-walk this afternoon.

Happy (wet) Monday!

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

How far you've come

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

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

[Rick Warren]

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

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

[Rick Warren]

On Mothering a Teenager.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am a lucky mama.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am a lucky mama.

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

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.

Winter Blues

Finn and I took a walk this morning.  The temperature said 25 degrees, but the wind was brutal.  Next time I will wear an extra shirt and bring a blanket for Finn in the stroller.  We didn't go far and I am, in fact, still trying to warm up.  I think a cup of tea is in my very near future (even though I'd love a cup of coffee; I'd also love to go to sleep tonight).

We are supposed to go to Iowa tomorrow, Finn and I, but the weather is being a spiteful hooker, and if it snows and blows like it's supposed to, we may be stuck here, missing out on all of the fun.  We have great plans to hang out in a hotel and play with Cousin Dane and watch Uncle Dan graduate from taxidermy school and look at all kinds of cool, stuffed critters, and maybe even stop at Ikea on our way home.  What is meant to be will be, and I don't drive in inclement weather (read: snow, rain, strong winds - basically anything that is not sunny and dry and safe!) but I am hopeful that we can make our trip as planned.

We are counting down the days to spring break...well, Finn is counting down the days.  He has zero concept of time and keeps asking me if it is next year yet, which, I guess in Finn time means later.  Anyway, he kept asking me if it was time to go to Mimi's house (Uriah's mom) and I finally had to tell him when we'd taken off all of the chains, then it would be time to go to Mimi's.  I probably shouldn't have told him we were going to the zoo or that we get to see absolutely all of our cousins (both hound and human).  He's pretty excited.  I'm pretty much sick of saying, not today fifteen zillion times an hour and then having him ask, "Please, Mama?  Please can we go to Mimi's house today?" in his very sweet little voice.  Next time we take a trip I am not telling him about until the day we leave.

Finn and I took a walk this morning.  The temperature said 25 degrees, but the wind was brutal.  Next time I will wear an extra shirt and bring a blanket for Finn in the stroller.  We didn't go far and I am, in fact, still trying to warm up.  I think a cup of tea is in my very near future (even though I'd love a cup of coffee; I'd also love to go to sleep tonight).

We are supposed to go to Iowa tomorrow, Finn and I, but the weather is being a spiteful hooker, and if it snows and blows like it's supposed to, we may be stuck here, missing out on all of the fun.  We have great plans to hang out in a hotel and play with Cousin Dane and watch Uncle Dan graduate from taxidermy school and look at all kinds of cool, stuffed critters, and maybe even stop at Ikea on our way home.  What is meant to be will be, and I don't drive in inclement weather (read: snow, rain, strong winds - basically anything that is not sunny and dry and safe!) but I am hopeful that we can make our trip as planned.

We are counting down the days to spring break...well, Finn is counting down the days.  He has zero concept of time and keeps asking me if it is next year yet, which, I guess in Finn time means later.  Anyway, he kept asking me if it was time to go to Mimi's house (Uriah's mom) and I finally had to tell him when we'd taken off all of the chains, then it would be time to go to Mimi's.  I probably shouldn't have told him we were going to the zoo or that we get to see absolutely all of our cousins (both hound and human).  He's pretty excited.  I'm pretty much sick of saying, not today fifteen zillion times an hour and then having him ask, "Please, Mama?  Please can we go to Mimi's house today?" in his very sweet little voice.  Next time we take a trip I am not telling him about until the day we leave.

Becoming a "yes" mom.

Cabin fever has been setting in - it's been cold and rainy and a little snowy - which means time outside is limited.  I can only take so much soulful guitar playing/singing from Abby's room and "Let's play trains together, Mama." from Finn before I want to scream.  So yesterday after lunch, as the snow was swirling like a snow globe outside, I pulled out the red and pink and purple paper, the glue sticks and markers, crayons and paints.  I spread everything over the kitchen table and challenged my children to make some creative Valentine's for their cousins (and the hound/kitty cousins, too.).  It was a painty, markery, gluey mess.  I hyperventilation 12 times.

They loved it.

It occurred to me as I was wiping Finn's fingers that they were just going to get paint on them again, so why bother.  It occurred to me that I don't need to micro-manage Abby's Valentine making - I don't need to offer suggestions, she's creative enough on her own.  I realized that I need to be more of a "Let's make a mess" mom.  I need to say yes more and no less.  Abby's constantly asking for artsy projects to do and all I ever see is the huge mess it's going to make and how to keep Finn occupied while she does whatever it is she wants to do or how to amend a project so that Finn can do it, too.  And so I usually end up just saying no.  But I need to remind myself -  even if it's every single day - that it's okay to have paint on shirts and markers on cheeks and scraps of paper all over the floor.  It's okay to let Finn practice with the scissors and to let him taste the crayons.  It's okay to give Abby some creative freedom to express herself, even if that expression includes playing with the sewing machine or Picasso-ing her way to some artwork for her wall.

It's okay to make a mess.
Being the yes mom?  That makes for really happy kids.

Cabin fever has been setting in - it's been cold and rainy and a little snowy - which means time outside is limited.  I can only take so much soulful guitar playing/singing from Abby's room and "Let's play trains together, Mama." from Finn before I want to scream.  So yesterday after lunch, as the snow was swirling like a snow globe outside, I pulled out the red and pink and purple paper, the glue sticks and markers, crayons and paints.  I spread everything over the kitchen table and challenged my children to make some creative Valentine's for their cousins (and the hound/kitty cousins, too.).  It was a painty, markery, gluey mess.  I hyperventilation 12 times.

They loved it.

It occurred to me as I was wiping Finn's fingers that they were just going to get paint on them again, so why bother.  It occurred to me that I don't need to micro-manage Abby's Valentine making - I don't need to offer suggestions, she's creative enough on her own.  I realized that I need to be more of a "Let's make a mess" mom.  I need to say yes more and no less.  Abby's constantly asking for artsy projects to do and all I ever see is the huge mess it's going to make and how to keep Finn occupied while she does whatever it is she wants to do or how to amend a project so that Finn can do it, too.  And so I usually end up just saying no.  But I need to remind myself -  even if it's every single day - that it's okay to have paint on shirts and markers on cheeks and scraps of paper all over the floor.  It's okay to let Finn practice with the scissors and to let him taste the crayons.  It's okay to give Abby some creative freedom to express herself, even if that expression includes playing with the sewing machine or Picasso-ing her way to some artwork for her wall.

It's okay to make a mess.
Being the yes mom?  That makes for really happy kids.

The healing power of chicken noodle soup.

Here I am...two days in a row!  Amazing.

Today Finn and I both slept in until 9 am.  We needed it.  Yesterday evening tried everyone's patience as a result of no afternoon nap combined with some sort of mutant head cold running rampant through our house (so far only Finn and I have had it; fingers crossed Uriah and Abby stay healthy.).  I feel as though his bad behavior on those evenings is partially my fault; by not ensuring that he gets his nap, I know I'm just setting him up for failure later on when the exhaustion sets in.

And boy does he fail in spectacular fashion when he is tired!

By the time bath/bed/stories came around my nerves were frazzled so Uriah stepped in and took care of the entire routine - with the patience that can sometimes only come when you've been away from the tired/cranky/sickly baby all day long.  And this morning, when he got up for work, I don't think Finn or I even moved.  Usually when Uriah gets up in the morning, if Finn is in bed with us (12 days out of 11 - I know, I know...trust me, we're working on this co-sleeping debacle.) he's just awake and ready to start his day, trying to peel my eyelids up and listing all of the things he'd like for breakfast.  This morning he stretched his baby body over the open space in the bed and continued to snore.  Thank God.

When we finally got out of bed, I felt rested and as though I finally had some energy to accomplish some of my to-do list today.  In an effort to rid our house of the yucky germs, I stripped beds and washed sheets and blankets.  I sorted all of the laundry from the weekend (how in the heck do we get so much?  We were only gone for 3 days and I even did laundry before we left!).  The biggest accomplishment of the day, though, was the big big pot of chicken and noodles that I put on the stove for dinner tonight.  I wish this blog had a smell ap; my house smells like it is about to be healed in the most amazing way.

This week I'm going to share a few of my favorite soup recipes because, well, it's winter and everyone is cold and sick (what do you mean it's just my house?).  I wrote about making home made stock here and then freezing it to use later, but today I simmered fresh chicken stock with the bones of a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store.   Yesterday was a super exhausting/sick day, and all I could muster was some already cooked chicken and cottage cheese for lunch for Finn and me; the rest of that chicken inspired tonight's dinner, though!  I took the meat off of the bones, added a couple of garlic cloves, a couple stalks of celery and an onion (no carrots to be had in my house today, but you could add that if you had it) covered the whole thing with water and left it to simmer on low.  I strained the bones and vegetables from the broth and then added all the goodies from the list below.  The great thing about chicken noodle soup is that you can tailor it so easily to what your family will eat.  I've started adding kale to my soups, and sometimes fresh spinach.  If I have a squash or a zucchini on hand, I'll add that and if I want a little bit of extra texture, I might add a potato.  Today I'm going for the basics - just chicken, veggies and noodles - and I'm going to make some biscuits and a side salad to go along with it.

Let the healing begin!

{ Simmering stock }

Chicken Noodle Soup

6 cups home made chicken stock
2 cups frozen mixed vegetables (peas, carrots, corn, beans - or if you have them fresh, use that)
1 stalk celery, chopped
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 cup chopped mushrooms
1 cup egg noodles, uncooked
2 cups cooked chicken, chopped

Bring the stock to a low simmer.  Add the vegetables and simmer until cooked through and softened.  Bring soup to a boil and add the noodles.  Cook until noodles are desired texture (7-9 minutes).  Turn soup down to a low simmer and add the chicken.  Simmer just until chicken is warmed through.


Other soups to try: Karen's Crock Pot Soup | Ham & Pot Liquor Soup or Vegetable Barley Soup (add some kale to the vegetable barely - makes a healthy world of difference!)

Here I am...two days in a row!  Amazing.

Today Finn and I both slept in until 9 am.  We needed it.  Yesterday evening tried everyone's patience as a result of no afternoon nap combined with some sort of mutant head cold running rampant through our house (so far only Finn and I have had it; fingers crossed Uriah and Abby stay healthy.).  I feel as though his bad behavior on those evenings is partially my fault; by not ensuring that he gets his nap, I know I'm just setting him up for failure later on when the exhaustion sets in.

And boy does he fail in spectacular fashion when he is tired!

By the time bath/bed/stories came around my nerves were frazzled so Uriah stepped in and took care of the entire routine - with the patience that can sometimes only come when you've been away from the tired/cranky/sickly baby all day long.  And this morning, when he got up for work, I don't think Finn or I even moved.  Usually when Uriah gets up in the morning, if Finn is in bed with us (12 days out of 11 - I know, I know...trust me, we're working on this co-sleeping debacle.) he's just awake and ready to start his day, trying to peel my eyelids up and listing all of the things he'd like for breakfast.  This morning he stretched his baby body over the open space in the bed and continued to snore.  Thank God.

When we finally got out of bed, I felt rested and as though I finally had some energy to accomplish some of my to-do list today.  In an effort to rid our house of the yucky germs, I stripped beds and washed sheets and blankets.  I sorted all of the laundry from the weekend (how in the heck do we get so much?  We were only gone for 3 days and I even did laundry before we left!).  The biggest accomplishment of the day, though, was the big big pot of chicken and noodles that I put on the stove for dinner tonight.  I wish this blog had a smell ap; my house smells like it is about to be healed in the most amazing way.

This week I'm going to share a few of my favorite soup recipes because, well, it's winter and everyone is cold and sick (what do you mean it's just my house?).  I wrote about making home made stock here and then freezing it to use later, but today I simmered fresh chicken stock with the bones of a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store.   Yesterday was a super exhausting/sick day, and all I could muster was some already cooked chicken and cottage cheese for lunch for Finn and me; the rest of that chicken inspired tonight's dinner, though!  I took the meat off of the bones, added a couple of garlic cloves, a couple stalks of celery and an onion (no carrots to be had in my house today, but you could add that if you had it) covered the whole thing with water and left it to simmer on low.  I strained the bones and vegetables from the broth and then added all the goodies from the list below.  The great thing about chicken noodle soup is that you can tailor it so easily to what your family will eat.  I've started adding kale to my soups, and sometimes fresh spinach.  If I have a squash or a zucchini on hand, I'll add that and if I want a little bit of extra texture, I might add a potato.  Today I'm going for the basics - just chicken, veggies and noodles - and I'm going to make some biscuits and a side salad to go along with it.

Let the healing begin!

{ Simmering stock }

Chicken Noodle Soup

6 cups home made chicken stock
2 cups frozen mixed vegetables (peas, carrots, corn, beans - or if you have them fresh, use that)
1 stalk celery, chopped
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 cup chopped mushrooms
1 cup egg noodles, uncooked
2 cups cooked chicken, chopped

Bring the stock to a low simmer.  Add the vegetables and simmer until cooked through and softened.  Bring soup to a boil and add the noodles.  Cook until noodles are desired texture (7-9 minutes).  Turn soup down to a low simmer and add the chicken.  Simmer just until chicken is warmed through.


Other soups to try: Karen's Crock Pot Soup | Ham & Pot Liquor Soup or Vegetable Barley Soup (add some kale to the vegetable barely - makes a healthy world of difference!)

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...or not.

{ 2010 | 2011 | 2012 }

We finally got around to decorating our tree last night.  You know, 6 days before Christmas.  Better late than never?  I've decided that we'll leave it up at least until January 6th (Little Christmas, when the Magi visit Baby Jesus) and we'll celebrate with three little presents for the kids to help them remember Christmas all year long.  What those three little presents will be, I'm not sure yet.  I have some ideas, though, and they did not come from Pinterest this time!

Finn and I returned Monday from a whirl-wind trip to Kansas City where we spent time loving on the newest, teeny-tiniest member of our family.  We went with my youngest sister, and as she is gainfully employed, her time away is limited, so it was an incredibly fast weekend trip; I didn't get to do or see everyone and everything that I wanted to (next time, I promise!) but I did spend an inordinate amount of time holding that sweet smelling baby.  Finn travels like a champ (probably because we've been grooming him from week 2 of life to make the trip between Minnesota and Missouri).  I, however, am starting to feel the effects of 20 hours in the car in a 72-hour span.  And although I still have laundry galore all over my house and empty Christmas totes to take downstarirs and general straightening up to do, it was totally worth it.  I can confidently say that my new nephew is the cutest baby I have seen in two and a half years!  And my sister is amazing.  She is already an awesome mom and I feel really lucky to have been able to share that early time with her and her boys.

So now we have Christmas to prepare for.  A very small, quiet Christmas with just the 4 of us since Uriah has to work on Christmas day.  This is a novelty for us, we've had only one Christmas in our own house with just our little family in all the years that we've been together. The last time this happened was the Christmas before Finn was born; Kansas City had a huge snowstorm and we couldn't go anywhere.  It was awesome.  As much as I will miss my family this year (and I will! A bunch!) I'm very much looking forward to Christmas Eve mass at our church and dinner on our wedding china and staying up late with my husband to put together some awesome gifts and then waking up Christmas morning to find Santa has come!

Between now and then, though, we need to get rid of the laundry piles, go to the grocery store, finish making Christmas cookies and generally make our house less of a tornado and more of a welcoming Christmas retreat!  I'm going to get on that...pinkey swear.

Tomorrow I'm going to share with you the first 12 days of our Elf on the Shelf.  I did really good following my calendar at the beginning, but then we went to Kansas City and somehow I got a little lazy, so this last week has been a bit lame, but Finn still loves looking for Reginald every morning, even if he is only hanging from the chalk board with a naughty and nice list!

Happy Thursday, friends!
Only 5 days until Christmas!
Wishing for some snow here, but I'm quite certain we will have only a spotty-White Christmas!

And P.S. -  Can you even believe how big Finn has gotten in those Christmas tree pictures?  I can't (but then, I mostly live in denial!).  I think he should still be my teeny-tiny boy baby instead of the ball of energy that he has become!

And P.P.S - I just noticed that I never did finish/post Abby's Birthday Retrospective.  Saturday will be a day devoted to our teenager (my list of things to accomplish just got longer!).  I saw last night that she had the movie 13 Going on 30 in the DVD player and I had to smile!

{ 2010 | 2011 | 2012 }

We finally got around to decorating our tree last night.  You know, 6 days before Christmas.  Better late than never?  I've decided that we'll leave it up at least until January 6th (Little Christmas, when the Magi visit Baby Jesus) and we'll celebrate with three little presents for the kids to help them remember Christmas all year long.  What those three little presents will be, I'm not sure yet.  I have some ideas, though, and they did not come from Pinterest this time!

Finn and I returned Monday from a whirl-wind trip to Kansas City where we spent time loving on the newest, teeny-tiniest member of our family.  We went with my youngest sister, and as she is gainfully employed, her time away is limited, so it was an incredibly fast weekend trip; I didn't get to do or see everyone and everything that I wanted to (next time, I promise!) but I did spend an inordinate amount of time holding that sweet smelling baby.  Finn travels like a champ (probably because we've been grooming him from week 2 of life to make the trip between Minnesota and Missouri).  I, however, am starting to feel the effects of 20 hours in the car in a 72-hour span.  And although I still have laundry galore all over my house and empty Christmas totes to take downstarirs and general straightening up to do, it was totally worth it.  I can confidently say that my new nephew is the cutest baby I have seen in two and a half years!  And my sister is amazing.  She is already an awesome mom and I feel really lucky to have been able to share that early time with her and her boys.

So now we have Christmas to prepare for.  A very small, quiet Christmas with just the 4 of us since Uriah has to work on Christmas day.  This is a novelty for us, we've had only one Christmas in our own house with just our little family in all the years that we've been together. The last time this happened was the Christmas before Finn was born; Kansas City had a huge snowstorm and we couldn't go anywhere.  It was awesome.  As much as I will miss my family this year (and I will! A bunch!) I'm very much looking forward to Christmas Eve mass at our church and dinner on our wedding china and staying up late with my husband to put together some awesome gifts and then waking up Christmas morning to find Santa has come!

Between now and then, though, we need to get rid of the laundry piles, go to the grocery store, finish making Christmas cookies and generally make our house less of a tornado and more of a welcoming Christmas retreat!  I'm going to get on that...pinkey swear.

Tomorrow I'm going to share with you the first 12 days of our Elf on the Shelf.  I did really good following my calendar at the beginning, but then we went to Kansas City and somehow I got a little lazy, so this last week has been a bit lame, but Finn still loves looking for Reginald every morning, even if he is only hanging from the chalk board with a naughty and nice list!

Happy Thursday, friends!
Only 5 days until Christmas!
Wishing for some snow here, but I'm quite certain we will have only a spotty-White Christmas!

And P.S. -  Can you even believe how big Finn has gotten in those Christmas tree pictures?  I can't (but then, I mostly live in denial!).  I think he should still be my teeny-tiny boy baby instead of the ball of energy that he has become!

And P.P.S - I just noticed that I never did finish/post Abby's Birthday Retrospective.  Saturday will be a day devoted to our teenager (my list of things to accomplish just got longer!).  I saw last night that she had the movie 13 Going on 30 in the DVD player and I had to smile!

This day is a gift.

I am printing this and putting it by my bed so that it is the first thing I look at in the morning.  
This day is a gift.

I am printing this and putting it by my bed so that it is the first thing I look at in the morning.  
This day is a gift.

On mothering a toddler.

I have this nagging feeling, a lump in my throat and a pinch in my belly.  "Snuggle him closer." it says.  "Drown him in kisses and smother him with hugs.  He won't be little for long."

And so I scoot over to make room in my bed for him at night.  I try not to be too frustrated with an elbow in my ear and a foot resting solidly on my hip.  Soon he will be too big to sleep in my bed.  Soon enough he will be too big to sleep in my house.

Do you ever have that feeling that you've missed something?  That between the running and the cooking and the cleaning and the bossing and the chastising and the never ending loads of laundry...do you ever feel at the end of the day that you simply forgot to stop and look at what was right in front of you?  I don't want to send him to kindergarten and to high school and to college and forget that once he fit in my tummy and then he fit in my arms.  These days, he's all over the place - playing cars, riding his "bike," coloring, and building towers and construction sites.  There is a whirlwind of toys and books and crayons scattered throughout my house at the end of the day.  He's intent on doing everything "myself."  But when he wakes up from a nap, he wants nothing more than to sit quietly on my lap with my arms wrapped tightly around him and his feet sticking out on either side of my hips, all long and lanky these days but determined to snuggle in, while he slowly finishes charging his batteries.  If I try to do anything else, he pulls my hands away and wraps them back around him and sighs when I squeeze.

Some days I feel as though I rushed through his babyness.  Between the hormones and the mood swings and the not knowing what I'm doing most of the time, I've spent two years on pins and needles wondering what was going to come next: sleeping through the night, solid food, sitting up, crawling, walking, talking.  The anticipation of the next milestone made each day feel like Christmas Eve and when he finally reached it it was a little miracle right in the middle of a busy work week.  I try not to second guess my choices and I try not to wonder what I would do differently if I had it to do again.  Would I smell him more?  Would I snuggle him more?  Would I read the books less and go with my gut more?  Would I worry less?

I think I'll just try that from here on - the worrying less and the trusting my gut more.  I will forget some things - the millions of dandelions picked or the thousands of tantrums thrown - some days I will wish for a do-over button, but I will hold on to the way my heart feels when I have his sticky little hand in mine and he squeezes.

I have this nagging feeling, a lump in my throat and a pinch in my belly.  "Snuggle him closer." it says.  "Drown him in kisses and smother him with hugs.  He won't be little for long."

And so I scoot over to make room in my bed for him at night.  I try not to be too frustrated with an elbow in my ear and a foot resting solidly on my hip.  Soon he will be too big to sleep in my bed.  Soon enough he will be too big to sleep in my house.

Do you ever have that feeling that you've missed something?  That between the running and the cooking and the cleaning and the bossing and the chastising and the never ending loads of laundry...do you ever feel at the end of the day that you simply forgot to stop and look at what was right in front of you?  I don't want to send him to kindergarten and to high school and to college and forget that once he fit in my tummy and then he fit in my arms.  These days, he's all over the place - playing cars, riding his "bike," coloring, and building towers and construction sites.  There is a whirlwind of toys and books and crayons scattered throughout my house at the end of the day.  He's intent on doing everything "myself."  But when he wakes up from a nap, he wants nothing more than to sit quietly on my lap with my arms wrapped tightly around him and his feet sticking out on either side of my hips, all long and lanky these days but determined to snuggle in, while he slowly finishes charging his batteries.  If I try to do anything else, he pulls my hands away and wraps them back around him and sighs when I squeeze.

Some days I feel as though I rushed through his babyness.  Between the hormones and the mood swings and the not knowing what I'm doing most of the time, I've spent two years on pins and needles wondering what was going to come next: sleeping through the night, solid food, sitting up, crawling, walking, talking.  The anticipation of the next milestone made each day feel like Christmas Eve and when he finally reached it it was a little miracle right in the middle of a busy work week.  I try not to second guess my choices and I try not to wonder what I would do differently if I had it to do again.  Would I smell him more?  Would I snuggle him more?  Would I read the books less and go with my gut more?  Would I worry less?

I think I'll just try that from here on - the worrying less and the trusting my gut more.  I will forget some things - the millions of dandelions picked or the thousands of tantrums thrown - some days I will wish for a do-over button, but I will hold on to the way my heart feels when I have his sticky little hand in mine and he squeezes.

Waiting.

{52 Photos Project | Week 18:  On the Street}

{52 Photos Project | Week 18:  On the Street}

Life.

Uriah has been working like a mad-man for the past few weeks due to some work-related crap issues.  He leaves in the morning and he usually doesn't come home until the kids are in bed.  The past few days have been especially hard on Finn - I can tell that he misses his dad.  In the evening if a car drives by, he looks at me with his hopeful eyes and says, "Dad home?  Dad home?" and I tell him that Dad will be home when he opens his eyes in the morning.  Saturday Finn was acting like a rotten child - he didn't want to do anything except stand right next to me or have me hold him (which is a bit impossible when there's laundry to be done and groceries to put away and dinner to make and the lad weighs a lot!).  He didn't want to play with anything that I suggested (not even with the play-dough dog, which is his most favorite!).  I finally asked him if he missed his daddy and he nodded his little tear-stained face yes and then gave me a tight squeeze.  It broke my mama heart.  So I had Uriah call Finn when he had a free minute to talk to him on speaker.  I can't say that the evening got much better, but at least it didn't get much worse.

Our life feels very chaotic and one-sided right now.  We seem to be ships passing in the night and I find myself day-dreaming about not making dinner and maybe going on a date.  I'll be happy when Uriah's back to his "regular" schedule (although the summer season starts here this weekend, so I might be deluding myself into thinking we'll have a relatively normal schedule at any time before Labor Day!).  In the meantime, Abby's last day of 7th grade is on Friday (stay tuned for the annual Last Day of School photo!) and then we start our summer reading list (which I secretly cannot wait for!).  I've got a garage sale this weekend and I'm gearing up to go through the totes and totes of Finn's baby clothes tomorrow, which is causing me to hyperventilate a little bit.  I have very mixed feelings about it, to say the least...

Happy Monday, friends!  See you around here later this week!

***
Would you like to see more pictures of life?  Head over to I Should be Folding Laundry for life aplenty.  It's Monday, so that means it's also Show off Your Shot over at And then she {snapped}.

Uriah has been working like a mad-man for the past few weeks due to some work-related crap issues.  He leaves in the morning and he usually doesn't come home until the kids are in bed.  The past few days have been especially hard on Finn - I can tell that he misses his dad.  In the evening if a car drives by, he looks at me with his hopeful eyes and says, "Dad home?  Dad home?" and I tell him that Dad will be home when he opens his eyes in the morning.  Saturday Finn was acting like a rotten child - he didn't want to do anything except stand right next to me or have me hold him (which is a bit impossible when there's laundry to be done and groceries to put away and dinner to make and the lad weighs a lot!).  He didn't want to play with anything that I suggested (not even with the play-dough dog, which is his most favorite!).  I finally asked him if he missed his daddy and he nodded his little tear-stained face yes and then gave me a tight squeeze.  It broke my mama heart.  So I had Uriah call Finn when he had a free minute to talk to him on speaker.  I can't say that the evening got much better, but at least it didn't get much worse.

Our life feels very chaotic and one-sided right now.  We seem to be ships passing in the night and I find myself day-dreaming about not making dinner and maybe going on a date.  I'll be happy when Uriah's back to his "regular" schedule (although the summer season starts here this weekend, so I might be deluding myself into thinking we'll have a relatively normal schedule at any time before Labor Day!).  In the meantime, Abby's last day of 7th grade is on Friday (stay tuned for the annual Last Day of School photo!) and then we start our summer reading list (which I secretly cannot wait for!).  I've got a garage sale this weekend and I'm gearing up to go through the totes and totes of Finn's baby clothes tomorrow, which is causing me to hyperventilate a little bit.  I have very mixed feelings about it, to say the least...

Happy Monday, friends!  See you around here later this week!

***
Would you like to see more pictures of life?  Head over to I Should be Folding Laundry for life aplenty.  It's Monday, so that means it's also Show off Your Shot over at And then she {snapped}.

Crafty Crap {Mother's Day Gift Idea}

Two Mother's Days ago - that's sounds like a tongue twister, so let's make it easier: 2 years ago for Mother's Day, I was a billion months pregnant and, although I was adamant that getting crap for the baby's room was more important and I didn't want anything for Mother's Day, my husband was very kind and thoughtful and bought me a rosebush (what I really wanted was a martini.).  It was called a Knock Out rose, but I called it the Knocked Up rosebush.  It had lovely pink roses and we planted it in our back yard in Kansas City.  In the moving chaos that ensued last year, I forgot to dig it up to bring it north with us.  I'm sure someone is enjoying my Knocked Up rosebush as I type this.  Or the ninja squirrels that lived in our back yard ate all the buds, in which case it's probably dead.  Either option is dismal.

Last year for mother's day - my first real Mother's Day, we were moving and our lives were less than stable.  Apparently, Uriah slipped Abby thirty bucks and told her to get me something nice.  I got a card and a small plant.  She pocketed the change (or should I say, she used the change on my gift and pocketed the rest.).  I tried not to be bitter about my husband totally phoning in Mother's Day last year - after all, I did give him a glorious son and I was actively assisting in the raising of his daughter, you'd think the least he could do was honor me for one day in the manner to which I am befit (you know, parade, marching band, ice sculpture made in my likeness. Simple stuff.), instead of passing it off on an eleven-year-old who (allegedly) was jonesing for some Grape Smackers chapstick.

I've learned my lesson, people.  This year will just be another normal Sunday since my husband will, once again, be busy feeding everyone else's mother.  No biggie; I'm used to it by now (but that doesn't stop me from complaining about it, obvs!).  I think I'll get some flowers and we'll do some planting if the weather holds.  If not...it'll probably be a movie/martini hot cocoa fest up in here and everyone will take naps.

If you're crapping your pants, just now realizing you have nothing for the mothers/grandmothers in your life and you want to do something thoughtful, or rather, you want your kids to do something thoughtful, may I suggest you have them paint some pots and then plant some flowers.  It's relatively cheap (terracotta pots at the Wals are less than $2, depending on what size you get.  All the acrylic paints I got were on clearance.) and the little planters can be used again for years to come (green points!).  We used two different sizes, bigger pots for Abby, baby-sized pots for Finn.  This project obviously took Abby a lot longer than Finn, she used a paintbrush and all, he just used his fingers.  After the paint was finished drying (I waited a couple of hours for Finn's, a little bit longer for Abby's.), I slapped some modge podge on those little suckers (the pots, not the kids), let them dry completely, and then put each kid's name and year on the bottom.  Abby got to plant the flowers and Finn got to water them.

It's the gift that keeps on giving.

 

Note: These were actually our Easter presents for the grandmas, but I think the craftiness works for Mother's Day, too.

Two Mother's Days ago - that's sounds like a tongue twister, so let's make it easier: 2 years ago for Mother's Day, I was a billion months pregnant and, although I was adamant that getting crap for the baby's room was more important and I didn't want anything for Mother's Day, my husband was very kind and thoughtful and bought me a rosebush (what I really wanted was a martini.).  It was called a Knock Out rose, but I called it the Knocked Up rosebush.  It had lovely pink roses and we planted it in our back yard in Kansas City.  In the moving chaos that ensued last year, I forgot to dig it up to bring it north with us.  I'm sure someone is enjoying my Knocked Up rosebush as I type this.  Or the ninja squirrels that lived in our back yard ate all the buds, in which case it's probably dead.  Either option is dismal.

Last year for mother's day - my first real Mother's Day, we were moving and our lives were less than stable.  Apparently, Uriah slipped Abby thirty bucks and told her to get me something nice.  I got a card and a small plant.  She pocketed the change (or should I say, she used the change on my gift and pocketed the rest.).  I tried not to be bitter about my husband totally phoning in Mother's Day last year - after all, I did give him a glorious son and I was actively assisting in the raising of his daughter, you'd think the least he could do was honor me for one day in the manner to which I am befit (you know, parade, marching band, ice sculpture made in my likeness. Simple stuff.), instead of passing it off on an eleven-year-old who (allegedly) was jonesing for some Grape Smackers chapstick.

I've learned my lesson, people.  This year will just be another normal Sunday since my husband will, once again, be busy feeding everyone else's mother.  No biggie; I'm used to it by now (but that doesn't stop me from complaining about it, obvs!).  I think I'll get some flowers and we'll do some planting if the weather holds.  If not...it'll probably be a movie/martini hot cocoa fest up in here and everyone will take naps.

If you're crapping your pants, just now realizing you have nothing for the mothers/grandmothers in your life and you want to do something thoughtful, or rather, you want your kids to do something thoughtful, may I suggest you have them paint some pots and then plant some flowers.  It's relatively cheap (terracotta pots at the Wals are less than $2, depending on what size you get.  All the acrylic paints I got were on clearance.) and the little planters can be used again for years to come (green points!).  We used two different sizes, bigger pots for Abby, baby-sized pots for Finn.  This project obviously took Abby a lot longer than Finn, she used a paintbrush and all, he just used his fingers.  After the paint was finished drying (I waited a couple of hours for Finn's, a little bit longer for Abby's.), I slapped some modge podge on those little suckers (the pots, not the kids), let them dry completely, and then put each kid's name and year on the bottom.  Abby got to plant the flowers and Finn got to water them.

It's the gift that keeps on giving.

 

Note: These were actually our Easter presents for the grandmas, but I think the craftiness works for Mother's Day, too.