Twelve Years

I don't think I've posted our engagement photo before so here it is. We look like babies. (Also, I look thin.) Twelve years ago today Craig and I got married. I sometimes think he regrets his decision. Maybe everyone wonders that sometimes. I know I found who I want to be with. I just wish I could make his life happier.

I love you Craig.

It's Still 2011, RIGHT?

I'm not sure how it happened but Halloween rolled right into Thanksgiving and before I knew it we were doing our traditional early hour countdown to the new year with the kids.

My new year so far has been consumed with hours in a courthouse and a courtroom as a potential juror in a criminal case. After 3 days of voir dire I was excused and the panel of 14 jurors were seated. I was both relieved and disappointed. The trial will be long and disturbing. There were hints of how disturbing it would be during jury questioning. I'm probably lucky I don't have to serve on the jury. But it's still a little disappointing too. It would have been interesting to be involved in the justice system and being a part of that. Though I can also admit that 3 days of waiting, sitting, and answering questions was also very draining. I can't imagine how I'd have felt after 2 or more weeks of a trial.

My big kids are on school break this week and still next week. I am hoping that we will pack some fun into next week since my jury duty put a damper on activities this week.

My husband has a "big" birthday coming up in a couple of weeks. It was my hope to have a party for him, but time escaped me. Maybe this summer we can host a belated party. Also? I'm not sure how it happened that this birthday is coming up for him because I'm only 2 years younger than him and I'm still 29.

Yesterday it was 50 degrees in Minnesota. In January. Crazy. I took the kids out for a bike ride and had to keep reminding them to stay out of the mud (I know, I'm a total buzz kill). It also reminded me how out of shape, fat and unhealthy I have become. I may be purchasing a Family Y membership on Monday. I hope. I'd like to go swim laps and work into other activities as I get more in shape. We shall see.

I'm out of practice blogging. This is my weak attempt at posting something.

Perhaps the next days will provide inspiration again.

11 Years

We look so young in our engagement photo...and in the wedding photos. 11 years, not so long but a lifetime ago (or three lifetimes ago) in many ways.

I love you Craig!

Death and Axes

Our neighbor had a tree cut down a couple of weeks ago. She's lived alone the last several years as her husband has Alzheimer's disease and she could not care for him in their home. She visits him every night at the nursing home where he lives. I've always thought her a hard woman, often expressionless or if an expression leaked out it would be a sour one. Her lack of humor was evident when, at our wedding reception, she spat out that she hoped we wouldn't be having any more parties. Craig and I never hosted a party before we got married, and since then we've hosted only kids' birthday parties. Except that one time we hosted my dad's 60th birthday party and let me tell you THAT was wild time. I still have no clue what she was talking about.

Anywho. She asked Craig if he wanted the wood from the tree. We don't have a fireplace, but Craig likes to have campfires with the Bigs in the summertime. He also likes to help friends out when they need wood. He finds splitting wood therapeutic I think. Something about the rhythm of swinging the axe, the satisfying thud of the axe striking wood; the gratifying crunch of the wood splintering into two.

When I was the assistant manager at a shoe store I always liked "running" shoes. We'd put all of one style together in size order and as things got sold and new stock came in you had to move the stock on the shelves in a certain pattern to get everything out on the sales floor and in order. It was sometimes a math equation to figure out how high boxes would need to be stacked to get all the new stock in. It wasn't the math or even the new shoes (though I did enjoy seeing all the new styles first!) that satisfied me so much. It was watching the somewhat haphazard shelves becoming neat again. I could SEE the result of my work. I expect this is the type of gratification that draws one to become a carpenter or a road worker. Tangible results.

The neighbor's tree was brought down at a "good" time. Craig's favorite aunt, who has been sick for several years now took an ultimate turn for the worse right around that time. I imagine splitting wood offers time for reflection. If I were strong enough, I could see myself throwing the axe into an offending log and working out anger toward life in its complete lack of courtesy.

For my kids, the death of this aunt is the first death of someone they knew (however briefly, however limited in contact...she was sick most of the time they've known her). My son took the news of her death surprisingly hard, though in retrospect I shouldn't have been surprised. He has a very sensitive soul. He wept, loudly and openly, that he didn't get to tell her goodbye. We'd thought it best that the kids didn't see her after their first visit to the hospital this last time. She held on for more than a week after the hospitalization before she passed. I know the Bigs thought this would be like all the other hospitalizations before. She was sick, but she'd get better.

M, as the oldest Big, has obviously known this aunt the longest. The first time she got sick and ended up in the hospital, M went with Craig to visit her and was unfazed every time by the tubes, sounds and smells of hospitals. I was so proud of how she acted then and now. She drew pictures and talked to Jean as if we were visiting her in her home. M seems to be taking the news of her death pretty well, but I'm guessing there will be fallout soon. The funeral/memorial service is on Saturday. We'll take the kids. The Bigs, Craig and I will probably cry. Some of us more than others because we're just big cry babies.

Death is a part of living. I know my kids will learn to know this fact. I also know that how their parents handle death and grieving will influence how they handle it. I'm hoping I can guide my kids through this first experience with grace.

I'd Like to Stick Them in the Freezer, But Most of Them No Longer Fit

There is nothing to do to change the fact that our main job as parents is to teach our children to leave us. We are growing beings who will ultimately break our hearts to venture out on their own terms. (Though by 18, perhaps most parents are not so heart broken when the chicks leave the nest.)

I've been in denial about my littlest chick growing up. It takes me aback when I look at her sometimes, or when I hear the things she says. She sets me straight more often than I'd like to admit. She laughs at me, though good-naturedly, about the blinders I have when it comes to her growing up.

Her dad put training wheels back on one of the little bikes we had for M and K and sent D off to ride. She was fearless, riding up the (very low-traveled) street and careening back down the hill with reckless abandon. Predictably, she crashed on her first wild ride, but she was wearing her helmet and landed in the grass so after a quick brush-off she was back on the horse.

Craig thought to teach her how to use the brakes too, so that helped.


Miss M attended a preschool co-op planning meeting with me yesterday and came up with some good ideas for us. As if I needed more proof that she is growing into a young lady and no longer my little girl.

Thankfully, the little girl still comes out. She brought some of her collection of My Little Ponies to the meeting. Her love of creatures great and small continues to grow. It doesn't phase her to watch a sow birthing piglets, to watch a fish being fileted (which may seem counter-intuitive to being an animal lover to some, but makes sense to me), to pick up a toad and realize just how to hold it so it doesn't pee on her fingers...

Her big heart serves her well.

Then there is The Boy, the K-Man, Destructo-Boy. He received his long-pined-after big boy bike for his birthday this year. The funny thing is I bought the bike on clearance (something like $12!) about 5 years ago and it's been in a box in our basement all these years. The bike still seems too big for his smallish stature, but like his little sister nothing stops him.

(Incidentally, the Maple tree in the foreground of this photo is one Craig and I planted when we first started dating. It was a stick-ish trunk then. Now the tree is probably 25 feet tall or taller.)

I always think I love each age my kids are better than the age they were, which is a good thing, because I get to know who they are better as they grow. But then there is that catch-22 again. They keep growing away from me.

Things Are Sometimes More Than Things (Or, Yes, I DO Have Issues)

They are sunglasses. Not the run-of-the-mill set of lenses, but still just sunglasses. Before them I had bought many pairs. They were always inexpensive and I lost them easily. It didn't matter. The first pair of sunglasses I cared about had belonged to my maternal grandfather. He probably never wore them, but just the fact that they were his made them special. I wore them all the time. They were the aviator style, which I am partial to wearing. Also, my grandfather was a real aviator so the sunglasses made me feel an attachment after his death just because of that. One day (I think) a boyfriend accidentally sat on those glasses and broke them. I'm sure I was livid, but life goes on and that boyfriend is long gone as well. So the second pair of sunglasses that I've grown attached to I got several years ago. And they've been missing for the last several months. I've bought countless other pairs of sunglasses and none of them measure up. This pair came to me through my husband. He was looking for a new pair of sunglasses. I don't think we were married yet...and probably weren't engaged either. He found a pair of sunglasses he liked and the sale at the time was buy one get one free. These weren't cheap lenses. He bought Raybans. He offered the free pair to me. It was extravagant for a girl who loses her sunglasses frequently. My "free" sunglasses retailed for more than $100. I was nervous to even wear them. It also reaffirmed my belief that the man I was dating was a keeper. I've "lost" those sunglasses twice in the 10 plus years I've owned them. The first time I lost them I found them in a beach basket, not remembering that I'd tossed them in there to avoid raccoon eyes. The second time, several months ago, I had no idea where they could be. I'd assumed they were gone for good. I bought a slew of cheap sunglasses, hoping to find a pair to compare to my favorites. Alas, it was not to be, even after probably 10 pairs. Yesterday, the weather was unseasonably warm for Minnesota. We hit 80 in April. It was magnificent. My husband used the warm weekend weather to clean out the disgusting pit that I call my car. Sand, food, toys, garbage. Gross. Suddenly, from under the driver's seat, he unearthed my sunglasses. I put them on my face and breathed a contented sigh. They are home. Again.

Sometimes Other People's Junk Is Also Your Junk

Several years ago I discovered Freecycle. For someone like me, Freecycle is dangerous because most often I collect more things rather than give things away. You never know when you might need that such and such that you just gave away. The things that I did manage to give away? I don't miss them. Not one thing. In fact, I can't remember what I've given away. So obviously I didn't need those things.

The OFFERS posted on Freecycle were seductive. FREE THINGS! I could use that! I didn't know I needed that but I do now! I received some things I really could use. A metal swing set for my kids. Peony bulbs. Clothing.

Most of the people I received things from just left the items in a bag outside their door. I preferred this method of retrieval partly because it is sort of embarrassing to me to take other people's cast-offs and partly because of my own social anxieties. It is also the method I used when people wanted my cast-offs. Whether I was home or not, I left the items in a bag on my deck. No face-to-face contact. I liked it much better that way.

That said, the woman who allowed me to dig up some of her peonies was very gracious. And the woman who had lost so much weight her clothes no longer fit her was sweet.

The one encounter that I will probably always remember was brought about by my husband's and my desire to try to lose weight (back when I didn't even have as much to lose...sigh). I posted a WANTED ad for a treadmill. I figured there would be people who bought them and never used them and just wanted the space back in their houses.

I was completely unprepared to meet the man who offered his used treadmill. Craig and I went to pick it up together, along with Baby M. I can't remember if K was born yet by then or not. We got directions to the man's house and found it with no trouble.

His house was unique, which matched him perfectly. He was a lingering hippie, I was pretty sure of that. He'd built his house himself. It was shaped like a hexagon or something weird like that. I always wonder where you put your sofa in a place like that. Anywho, his garage was packed with things and this is where he was puttering around when we arrived to pick up the treadmill.

The treadmill. I use that term loosely because it was a NordicTrack but quite possibly the first model ever invented. It was made from wood and had no power to the tread. You literally had to push the belt with your feet. As soon as I saw it I knew we would never use the thing but it seemed rude to not take it after going all that way to get it. So we loaded it in our minivan.

The man. He chatted continuously while we were there, telling us about constructing his house, demonstrating how to fold the treadmill...farting. I can only think the man must have had a meal of broccoli before we arrived because he tooted his way through the conversation but never once flinched or acknowledged his gas.

Oh yeah, this was a (toot) top of the line model (toot) when I got it. (laugh) (toot toot toot)

You want help (toot) getting that in (toot) there? (tooooooot)

I am not a classy woman. It is terribly hard for me to maintain a straight face when someone so blatantly needs to stick a cork in it.

But I did it. I think.

But you can bet your butt I laughed the whole way home.

Happy Birthday Craig!

We love you!

Random Thoughts Waterpark Style

We took our kids to an indoor waterpark in a hotel in a city about an hour away from us. It was a carrot we dangled in front of the older two kids to motivate them to do well in school during the first quarter. Conferences in the books (report cards still on the way) we know that the kids tried hard, worked hard...did their best or nearly their best...and that is about all we can ask. Most days they did their homework without complaint. Their teachers both commented on how well-liked they are and how much they, as teachers, enjoy our children. I suppose they sort of have to say that to everyone, but they were very convincing if they don't really enjoy our kids.

So Tuesday afternoon (Craig took off work Tuesday and Wednesday) we loaded up the car and drove to the hotel. We arrived about 2:40 and asked for early check-in (regular time is 4 p.m.) and were granted early access to our room. We got in, got settled, got our swim suits on just in time for the water park to open at 3.

Early in the day I knew I was getting a cold. Through perhaps just positive thoughts I was mostly fine most of the time we were in the waterpark. I had to blow my nose occasionally but it was fine...for nearly 6 hours.

Yes, we swam and rode down water slides for almost 6 hours straight. AND...we were the only family there. So we had two lifeguards for our family of 5. I felt a little guilty but that's because I'm a mom and a Minnesotan. It's in the rule books. Check it out.

Ms D, clad in her life jacket insisted on being left to her own devices, especially while in the lazy river. "I simming Mama!"

We almost got K Man to go down the water slide, which has been a struggle for about 4 years now. (Thanks to his mom who took him down a slide when he was two and failed at the "keeping the kid from going under" requirement when you take a young kid down a water slide. Yeah. I suck.) It was close. He seemed excited to go, then got half-way up the stairs before a freak-out. I gave him a pep-talk and we got him all the way up the stairs. More pep-talk and he consented to sit in the tube. Then he got out and walked down the stairs. You might think I should have hopped in and made him sail down the slide. But I reassured my son I would NOT do that to him. Above everything, I want my children to trust me so I will NEVER do that sort of thing to them.

Miss M is already a fish. She has been since the day she started swimming lessons (and I suspect her little sister will follow her.) and I've asked her several times if she'd like to be a life guard. Her response is always "No. Because then you don't get to swim." It makes sense I suppose but if you have to have a job...

My husband is a much better swimmer than I. I wear my contacts in the pool because it freaks me out to not see well...especially when I'm watching kids. I don't like to get my face wet anyway so that cuts down on "splashing" fun. (This aversion to water in the face seems to hold true for all of my kids in varying degrees though.)

I can swim. Not well. I am mostly self-taught. I do a mean side-stroke. My daughter was impressed with my scissor kick. I can float on my back, I can do the back stroke, I can do anything that doesn't involve putting my eyes in the water.

It was a lot of fun. I enjoyed the lazy river, grabbing a kick board to help me float or just using my own buoyancy (which I have plenty!) it is fun to just ride the current in circles. D, M, Craig and I enjoyed the tube slide. M enjoyed the body slide.

Nearly 6 hours in the water. The only people in the park.

It was pretty fun.

Then we hit the hot tub one last time, headed to our room and popped some popcorn. (Boy Scout popcorn so even better than regular...order some from my son?) The kids were up very late for them...even Ms. D...she fought the good fight but passed out in a chair upright. The Bigs made it to 10 before they couldn't do it anymore. (NYE may be an almost full family affair this year?)

Pretty much my whole family was asleep while I coughed, blew my nose (so much that we ran out of scratchy tissues and I had to resort to scratchy toilet paper...my nose hates me) 4927 times then tried to sleep without having snot running into my mouth.

FUN!

Despite my personal health issues, I'm happy my kids had fun. That's what matters, right?

RIGHT?

Ten, Count them! Ten! Loooong Years!

I jest. Ten loooong years? Not so. Ten great years? Yes. Stress free? No. We are a normal couple. We find things irritating about one another. If we didn't find one another irritating I would think that was abnormal.

Especially after 10 years of marriage.

The thing about marriage for me (I can't speak for my husband and I never will assume to speak for him) is that we accept the things that irritate us about our spouse precisely because we agreed to get married. I didn't expect to marry someone perfect and I hope that my husband didn't have that expectation. I can guarantee that I will never measure up.

My husband has given me more than anyone not blood related to me ever will. His heart and willingness to help others is exactly what attracted me to him. I knew he would take care of me. He's not overly expressive, but shows his love through deeds. I've known that for years. When he offers to wax my mom's car I know that he cares about her just as much as he loves me.

My husband didn't want a third child. At first. But he learned how important it was to his wife to have a third child and we worked at it (ha ha) until she was conceived. He listened to me, heard my heart and we have our beautiful Ms. D to add to our already adorable kids.

My husband. My love. My life.

I want him to be as happy as he has made me and our kids. I want us to laugh. Smile. Giggle.

I want my husband to know that I love him more than ever. I want him to be as happy as he can be. I want him to smile every day. Laugh every day. Enjoy fatherhood and being a husband as much as I love and cherish being a mom and a wife.

We are so lucky. We are so loved.

I love you Craig. Thank you for 10 years of marriage and 13 years together.

Happy Father's Day

My husband and my nephew. Handsome men, both. And dimples! :)

Happy Birthday!

He insists we'd met many times before I remember our first meeting. I blame being self-absorbed for my lack of memory.

We first became a couple when we were in mutual friends' wedding. He was the best man. I was the only bridesmaid besides the maid of honor. I had told one of my aunts in a phone call just before the wedding that I'd read that some large percentage (that I don't remember) meet their spouse at a wedding. Premonition perhaps?

One of the things that made me love my husband is that he's willing to help anyone if they ask...sometimes even if they don't know to ask.

He can talk to anyone...something I envy.

I refrain from writing of him...mostly. But today...happy birthday to my love.

Nine Years

Check out more Wordless Wednesday.

Happy Father's Day

It is because of this man I get to stay at home and raise my children. He gave me my children, he gave me a home, he gives me more than I deserve and never asks for anything in return.

We love you Craig.

A Plain Paper Crane...or Two

One of the beautiful and yet heartbreaking things about having young children is that they think that Mom and Dad can do anything. The bubble about knowing everything, however has long been burst. My oldest 2 kids will ask me a question and when I don't say "I don't know" because sometimes I don't know, and actually give them an answer they usually contradict me and give their own answer. Or they'll say "No, Mrs. M said that (insert answer here) is why." To which I wonder why they asked me anyway since clearly I am stupid and know nothing. I honestly thought I had at least until M was 10 or 12 before I was tossed aside as an authority on anything.

Things have been different with regard to doing everything. Even Miss M at nearly 7 years old still believes, for the most part, that Mom and Dad can fix things, and we can make things. I'll admit the fix things ability belief causes more than a few toys to be destroyed around here, especially when K Man is involved. He's a tinkerer, like a male Tinkerbelle, he's interested in how things work and how he can make something new. It often results in destruction, innocent destruction because he's intent that he'll make something new. I blame my father. He's a fixer, a tinkerer. K Man has Boppa's blood for sure.

The belief that us parents can make things came back to bite, first me, then Craig in our respective behinds last week. K Man received what is actually his penultimate book from the Dolly Parton Imagination Library. I did not read the book, but Craig read the book to the kids. It obviously left quite an impression because both kids were still talking about it the next morning as we took M to school. They chattered about the bird, the paper crane named Menu. They discussed how I would make them paper cranes.

No, no, no. I do not know how to make a paper crane. I was determined to snuff out this pipe dream instantly. I do not know origami. There was no way in Hell that I would be able to fake that I did.

Oh there are directions in the book Mommy!

Of course there are! How kind of the author! She must hate parents!

The excuse of not knowing was no longer valid. I had directions. K talked me into making him a crane as soon as we arrived back home after dropping M off at school.

I chose a large 12 x 12 paper from my scrapping supply. K held the book. At first. I started confidently, then my confidence waned, then fizzled. The wordless photo instructions were not that intuitive. Or I'm an idiot. It could be either, or both. I continued to fold. I tried and tried again. I vowed Craig would be making the next paper crane for M.

By step 6 or 7 out of 20 K was no longer holding the book. He wandered away as I continued to slave. It had, by then, become a challenge. I could conquer this paper. I graduated from my university summa cum laude. Paper folding has nothing on me!

Oh Friends. I am not a paper artist apparently. I make cards, but that does not an origami artist make. But I endeavored to create this paper bird that my son was no longer interested in having, or seeing me create. But I am a Taurus, and stubborn to the end. I would make a paper crane.

And I did. I folded and folded and re-folded and eventually ended up with something that sort of resembled a crane. It was not quite right and not quite wrong. My son was thrilled. His faith that Mommy hangs the moon was intact.

After school, Miss M was peeved that I had not made her a crane too. Oh no, I said, Daddy wants to make one for you. See? I love my husband and I really think he should participate fully in these types of family activities. I didn't want him to miss out on the fun.

Craig arrived home and Miss M asked him to make her a crane 4287 times in about 20 minutes. After we ate supper, Craig sat down with the fresh piece of scrapbook paper to fold Miss M her crane.

He began with confidence. He folded and folded. Then the folding slowed. Miss M began watching contentedly, excitedly, but then she asked for release. It was painful. She wanted to avoid witnessing the fall of her idol.

Because I was laughing at Craig's pain, he needed to scratch his head a lot. Apparently he uses his middle finger to scratch his head.

I let all squirm for a while, then I took over. My second crane was nearly as painful to fold, and turned out only slightly better.

I still find it fantastic that my children think their parents can do so much right even as we do so much wrong. We continue to try to make our lives better, more full of love. And the evidence of our trials can be seen in an awkwardly folded paper crane.

Packing and Life

I’m a great packer. I can fit a lot of things in a small space. But when our family goes anywhere, whether it’s for the weekend or our week long vacation, it is my husband who packs the car.

My packing ability comes in handy when we have parties or other get-togethers in our home where we are feeding any number of people greater than just our immediate family. The fridge is always busting at the seams but I am always able to move and adjust and finagle things until the door shuts and everything that needs to be refrigerated is cooling nicely.

Just last night my husband was wrestling with the items in the fridge. He’d moved something and was having a hard time fitting things back in so that the door would close. I gently nudged him out of the way, moved two items around and easily fit them in so that the door would close. I felt an odd swell of satisfaction at my packing prowess.

I think I learned to fit many things in a small space in high school. My then-boyfriend and I had a rocky relationship at best. When we had a bad fight, we’d break up, which necessitated me packing up my belongings from our small apartment and fitting them in my small 2-seater MR2. In all honesty after the first time or two I had the packing down to a science. I could fit my shelves, trinkets, pillows, clothes, cookware, what have you all into that tiny trunk, the space behind the seats, the passenger seat. Things would be crammed under the seats, up to the windows, above the headrest. I was a determined woman those nights, equally determined to retain all of my things, as I was that I would leave the jerk behind me.

Of course I went back often. I never said I was smart.

When I met my husband, I was reluctant to cohabitate (I know! I’m a total heathen right?) but discovered that I didn’t need to worry. I moved in about 4 months into our relationship and never once felt the need to move back out. We have our annoyances, but for the most part we know that these are small things, not worth arguing about. We often use humor to get over those grumpy patches when we’d just as soon kick one another in the butt as give one another a kiss.

I hope that my marriage will last until death we do part. I think it will, because we are both stubborn and we always seem to come back around to where we need to be.

Most of all, I am happy that my packing abilities are used for good things these days.

The Eggs Have Been Appropriately Altered

And what did Ms. D do during all of this? She threw Cheerios on the floor with wild abandon.

Who? Me?

Because the Twitter Peeps Picked Poetry

Sometimes Twitter peeps
really make me laugh out loud.
Sometimes I need it.

When I ask the peeps
to not fart or belch loudly
they mostly do not.

Though once in a while
someone lets one slip by
and the baby wakes.

After a bad day
people in my 'puter
sometimes make me smile.

But the biggest joys
of my life will always
be my hubs and kids.

******
Awwww! Isn't that special?

Also? Who knew that Twitter peeps were so into poetry?

Happy Day

Happy Birthday Craig! I love you!

A Very Merry New Year

We celebrated New Year's Eve with the kids as has become our tradition. We get out the party hats and the "happy new year" necklaces. We get out the wine glasses and the sparkling grape juice. We get out the horns and the paper poppers. We choose a random time and just start counting down to the new year at the Zebra household.

We ate our appetizers for supper, M played Dance Dance Revolution on the Wii, D tried to get into everything, K built yet another creation with his Legos.

Craig brought home another present for me:We got our pajamas on and played some Sonic on the Wii before M and K started fighting too much and we shuffled them off to bed. K, of course, stayed up another hour or longer busy in his bedroom tinkering with his building supplies.

Craig and I watched Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve and tinkered with the new laptop.

It was a low-key celebration, which is how I really like them to be these days.

Moments before the ball was to drop (recorded and played later here in central) Miss M woke up to use the bathroom. I ushered her downstairs and she sat on my lap to watch the ball begin its decent.

Look at all those people there celebrating! I told her. They are in New York City and they all went out to celebrate a new year arriving. M mumbled something in response but I think she was in awe of the sight. You just saw the new year arrive M! Her smile lit up the darkened room. The baby lay on the floor, slumbering and waiting to be transferred to her crib. Her brother lay sleeping finally upstairs in his bedroom.

The ball dropped and I received a new year's kiss from my husband and my first-born child. I can't think of a better way to start the year.