United States of Motherhood

Reason #5,698,674 Why I Suck As a Housewife

2009-12-03T12:06:00.001-08:00

My seven year old who should be wishing for sugar plum fairies and flashy, bright toys from Santa?

He's become sadly practical in our weaknesses. On his Christmas letter to Santa was "socks."

I kid you not.

Now does the kid actually need socks? Uh, nope.

Just that CG and I suck about matching socks when do laundry. We have two baskets full of socks that we rarely match so that there's always a dearth of socks in this family and a mad scramble every school day morning to find some.

Seriously, I've bought 30 pairs of socks for the kid in the last six months. It just seems easier to buy more socks that actually match 'em.

Pathetic. Really, I know.

So pathetic that yes, my friends, it's that time. It's Pinup Mommy of the Year Award Time:

I stink at laundry big time!!

Teenage Sons and Clothes Wars: HELP!

2009-12-02T09:34:00.000-08:00

Remember when your kids were like this kitty:

Sigh.

Tickle. Giggle. Feed. Sleep. so cute. So easy?

I'm nostalgic after the knock down, drag out fight I had about clothes with my teenager today.

We actually played tug of war with the dirty sweat shirt in question. Even though he is an inch taller, I still won.

Then we almost had him go to school at 40 degrees with bare arms because he refused to wear the expensive jacket with tags still on from last year that he got for Christmas. I was furious with the waste. At the time, he said he liked it even though I said it was returnable if he didn't like it. There's also about 8 pairs of designer, ridiculously expensive-for-a-kid-that-grows-an-inch-a-month jeans in the closet that also have tags on and he's since out grown. Same deal.

The kid lives in the same three t-shirts, one sweatshirt, and his one pair of favorite jeans even with a closet full of clothes.

Today, it became an issue of respect and obedience. I had to threaten and then yank CG out of a conference call to back me up.

Said teenager left house defeated and in tears for the bus. Not the best day to start the first day of a new trimester.

Not happy times being the mom of a teenager. Help!

Celebrating the Differences: One Hairy Week-end

2009-12-01T05:00:00.000-08:00

You know when you have kids and you constantly compare milestones and similarities?

Eldest & Li'l Man 4 months

And yes, differences?

Don't fib! You know you do, as did your mother compare you to your siblings, unless you were a only child then boo-hoo for you.

So I've found there is usually a clarifying moment when you realize your kids are very much alike or polar opposites.

For my boys?

Yes, the similarities of mannerisms still exist. The food preferences still exist. The resemblance exists. They definitely come from the same family.

But at their core? They are very different.

Nothing can so clearly show this than the haircuts they chose for themselves this week-end:

Yes, Eldest wants the longer hair to fit in with the middle school crowd, but Li'l Man requested, got, and was thrilled with his very unusual result.

Eldest hates attention. He wants to blend in. He's always been the least amount of risk taker so much so that I've often pushed him too hard to be more free.

To take risks.

Li'l Man?

Quite the opposite. Loves attention. Break dances in public. Lately, he's taken to wearing dashing scarves and a fedora to school.

Yes, you read that right.

A fedora! My 2nd grader wears a fedora whilst my 8th grader was horrified I purchased yellow hair spray for his Halloween costume...which was better than his reaction to my first suggestion that we bleach his hair.

Yes, Eldest is my child who cared too much about what others thought and was so easily led around the play yard in elementary school that I made him wears painted black nails once just so he would realize the world would not end if he was different. I wanted him to absorb this lesson before he hit the scary middle school scene.

He did learn the lesson, but still he takes no risks. It's who he is. I've accepted that. He is his father's son. Conservative.

Li'l Man reminds me of me in high school. Changing hair color on a whim. Showing up in every club in the yearbook picture one year not because I actually was in the clubs, but more for the attention of "Hey...look at me."

For me, from a family of six, and more foster kids, maybe it is a reaction to stand out and not be forgotten.

For Li'l Man, maybe it's a third child, the baby, the same deal. Don't get lost in the crowd. He asks me for black painted fingernails.

It's fascinating how very different their personalities are and yet, I know, there will be a part of them, the brothers part, the shared childhood, which will always remain comfortably the same:

All I know is that I love them both so much! My two little accidents! Forever and for always, differences and all, because they are my dear ones.

Belated Thanksgiving Favorites: Or How We Still Serve a Cow-sized Amount of Food For Our Family of Five

2009-11-30T11:58:00.000-08:00

Yes, my friends.

I know.

I know it's Monday after Thanksgiving.

Poo!

I had all sorts of ideas to write about this last week-end...

Really I did!

Then endless Pictionary games, with the kiddos, hours of movie watching, and of course, endless Turkey munching somehow got in the way.

And by saying endless?

I mean endless.

It seems you can take this girl from a family of eight, but you can't take the family of eight mentality out of this girl.

Our last Thanksgiving hosted in California among family had 32 guests.

This time?

Just us five.

We searched high and low for a smaller turkey, but somehow the smallest we could find was 16 lbs.

Sigh. What to do!

It was difficult, but we settled for the larger bird.

We strategized that we could cut back on the excess with the sides.

We had the kids pitch in to help.

PB helped peel and cut the sweet potatoes.

And yes, I mean real sweet potatoes.

You know the golden ones with brown peels.

It's very strange up here in the Pacific Northwest where they label Garnet YAMS as "SWEET POTATOES."

I totally call bull shit on that.

Yams are not sweet potatoes.

Get it right Costco and QFC.

We finally, at Safeway, a California-based grocery chain, found the real deal.

Grrr...

Li'l Man helped roll out dough for CG's Grandma's treasured Pilgrim Pumpkin Pie.

Ah, pumpkin pie! CG's specialty. Well that and cheesecake. He passed on his skillz to the young whippersnappers this week-end.

It's always quite reassuring to see one's children cook.

It makes you triumphant that perhaps your little cubs won't starve if ever something were to happen to you.

At least the young pups won't eat themselves, eh?

So where was I?

Or Eldest for that matter?

Just driving his skinny butt to swimming in the morning.

...

Yes, swimming!

As in we so crazy to be on a competitive swim team that swims on Thanksgiving morning when tummies should be rumbling and gurgling, curled up on the couch watching parades as the smells of not yet done turkey wafting through the house torture young minds.

So back to the food!

After picking up Eldest, we chopped, basted, and lightly bickered as only more than one cook in the kitchen often allows.

Okay, maybe more than lightly because everyone, but CG, knows that I am the superior cook.

Heh!

Heh! Heh!

{I am sure CG will have more to say in the comments...all of which will be LIES! }

So we scaled back recipes and still we ended up with 24 servings of caramelized onion and mushroom stuffing, cider sweetened carrots, homemade cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes for twenty, and too many other dishes to bother listing:

OOPS!

It pretty much looked the same even after we had gorged ourselves.

Le sigh!

No worries. No sadness here because my second favorite part of Thanksgiving is the leftovers....

And more leftovers...

And more dreamy leftovers...

'Cause everyone knows that gravy and stuffing are empty of calories after Turkey day, right?

That's my story and I'm sticking to it because these leftovers mean no cooking for at least a week. Heh!!

Happy Belated Thanksgiving, my friends.

Oh, I almost forgot! No holiday is complete without the ass in the family.

You know there's always one.

This year, it was difficult to choose, but I nominate Seb:

Always looking for opportunities: Don't worry, there's enough for you my beloved furry friend.

Day Dreaming at the Gym: Betcha Don't Know What I'm Thinking

2009-11-19T12:00:00.000-08:00

Ah, the gym.

My home away from home of late.

The camaraderie and smiles of recognition of becoming a regular.

The achievement of becoming part of a community.

A family.

And just like family members?

Freaking annoying.

Case in point, a sweaty, graying lady that seems magnetized to every part of the gym I populate. Let's call her Cantankerous Nana.

Nana never wipes down her machine. She refuses to circle swim while taking up entire lanes swimming like a geriatric turtle. She spends maybe 5 minutes on each machine, but you'd think it was a marathon with her grunting.

Kudos for her for trying yes? Well....

Last week, I sat next to her at stationary bikes. Apparently, Nana had to cough.

To be sure, I am already so skeeved about getting H1N1 that I've taken to biking while touching the least amount of the bike as possible and copiously using hand sanitizer.

Nana has no such compulsion.

So she decides to do the turn 'n cough. Without tissue or covered mouth. Un-apologetically, she turned to the right and coughed in my face with no attempt to cover.

Lest we think it was an accident, complete eye contact was made and no apology was offered.

I mean even my seven year old knows to use his cough pocket.

She wiped the spittle from her mouth with her bare hand and then once again grabbed the handle of the bike with said infected digits. And, yes, no wipe down although the spray bottle of disinfectant and towels expectantly sat nary two feet from her machine.

Grrrr...

Then this week, I grab a bike, see that it isn't working and move on to the next. Over the course of my 1 hour 20 minutes of biking, other patrons come and go. Many try the broken bike and some even check cords to fix it before shrugging and moving on. There are always plenty of machines available at this time of day.

Not Nana.

Nope, she takes all her towels, magazine rack, and magazine there and settles in.

I actually didn't notice at first as I was quite engaged with a love affair with a Barefoot Countess cooking show to keep my mind off how much I hate exercising.

The screen was replete with gads of melted butter, delicious smoked meats, and pastas.

My headphones enhanced the sounds of crunching bread being sliced and sizzling butter melting. It was so mesmerizing that I am sure I was drooling...

You know pretty much all the foods which got me here to the gym in the first place.

I startled when I heard her loud sigh when she realized her bike was not operable.

I felt a stirring of sympathy and with a smile of empathy, I made eye contact and said,

"Oh, I know. It didn't work for me either."

Her response to my commiserating tone?

She practically shouted with disgust as if I broke the damn machine myself,

"Well!! Why didn't you tell me! Humph."

Flabbergasted, I gazed back as she gave me an evil look and staggered off in a geriatric huff.

Can someone tell me when the magic age these days occurs when the Aged think their years allow them to be rude to everyone?

To be aggressively grumpy? Snappish? Meanies?

Yeah, me neither.

Perhaps the snappish kind should wear signs to warn unsuspecting patrons? A muzzle wouldn't be a bad idea either.

I am thinking however that 37 years is the age when it's okay to snap back and trip Nana into breaking her hip?

Yes. Wrong, I know. Respect thy elders. I did say thinking. Well dreaming mayhaps...

However, I know next time that I try to keep my mind engaged on that bike, it will have nothing to do with a Barefoot Countessa's menus dripping with cream and melted butter and all to do with an engaging day dream about Nana meeting a most fitting end worthy of her nasty demeanor.

There's nothing wrong with day dreaming is there?

Thx for the Flick pic by Abdullah AL-Naser and by Daniel Hughes

Blog Silence: Turning a New Leaf

2009-11-09T07:42:00.000-08:00

I am still here.

I am recovered from hosting two Halloween parties of 20+ guests in two days.

And yet, I was absent here.

My usual blogging time was gobbled up by the turn of a new leaf.

I am so sick of the way I feel.

The fat arms. The thighs rubbing together. The bags under my eyes. The silent liver disease and not so silent exhaustion from anemia from blood loss. The constant wearing of workout clothes or jeans and bulky sweaters and scrapped back pony tails with ball caps to cover my failure. I am sick of making everything and everyone a priority, but me.

I feel limp and discarded like a fallen leaf trampled underfoot in the rain.

My five year older sister told me last week that she was pregnant with her seventh child and all I was thinking beyond congratulations is how does she have the energy?

I cannot imagine being pregnant again much less having the energy to start over.

It was a wake up call.

I need to get my physical house in order.

I need to belly button gaze.

I needed to get to the gym. And I did. Three hours of working out each day for four days. I can barely lift my arms. 15 miles (500 calories) of stationary bike or 1 hour 20 minutes of elliptical machine. 10 minutes rowing. 20 minutes weights. 500 yard swim. 200 ab crunches.

Every time. Every day.

I am still struggling to make this a routine.

It's even more of a struggle to type as even my hands, shoulders, and back are cramping. I am drowning in even more exhaustion than before in the hopes that my body will adapt.

It will adapt.

As I work out out, I struggle spending three hours of my day working on my body.

I feel selfish.

I think of all the things that need to get done around the house and I need to do for the house or kids. I mentally go through my outlook calendar for the week.

I also see my dimpled body in the mirror next to the sex kitten trophy wives. Most definitely they have the nannies and housekeepers and gardeners to be so selfish. I don't.

Yet, I stay. I will stay. I have the strength to look upward and forward.

I will make this a routine.

I want to have more energy and honestly, I want to be around for my family.

I fear in my current state of being, I won't be for long.

CG out of the blue asked me last week if I was happy.

I said I was.

Yet, the more I thought of it, I made all these laundry lists of what I needed to do and be to be happy.

Not sure if I was entirely honest with him, but I am working on it.

The struggle will be worth it.

It's appropriately ironic I heard a news story on NPR the other day about fall colors here.

While leaves die and trees go dormant, they produce the bright oranges and reds rather than just the yellows of dying chlorophyll.

It takes the trees extra energy that they could store, but it is a survival mechanism meant to ward of insects and disease: Expending more brilliant, beautiful , radiant energy at their time of exhaustion and want for sleep for the winter.

The brightest amount of color comes with the largest amount of stress for the tree.

It's become my anthem. I feel the results.

So what does that mean here? No worries. I am not quitting my blog.

I might not be here as often.

It's more about that I am re-prioritizing and realizing my health is most important for my longevity is all pursuits in my life.

I want to be around, my friends, so I sweat and silently struggle in the gym with my guilt for spending so much time on myself.

So if you see a falling leaf, struggling in the wind, or me or someone like me struggling just as much at the gym and in her mind, think of us all as trying to find some footing:

Trying to find our brilliant color in dealing with the stresses of life.

Thanks for the Flickr pics by Mubina H, by Lif..., by KM&G-Morris, by VancityAllie, by cmefish, by Dr.DeNo, and by gentlepurespace

Thank You-Schmank You: Let's Ban the Thank You Card

2009-10-29T08:43:00.000-07:00

Never was good with thank you cards. Never.

It wasn't something my mom really pushed when I was a kid.

My mother-in-law? She's old-school.

She ceaselessly hounded us for weeks to finish our wedding thank yous when in those same weeks I had a newborn, graduated from college, my husband went active duty, and we moved cross country to Missouri then moved cross country again to Alaska.

Excuses I know. They just were not a priority.

Now as a mother, I do try. Try miserably that is.

Yesterday we went looking in a box of party stuff for some pink sparklies from PB's birthday party from last year for a costume we are making.

Yes, the box, 12 months later, is still sitting in the office.

{{Shut up, I feel you judging me. Heh!}}

There we found some sparklies for her crazy hat... and a pile of half-written thank you notes.

Also in that box? Five loaded gift cards, 2 pairs earrings, a doll, a spa set, and the list goes on.

You see I made a rule to encourage us.

No using or playing with birthday gifts until all 25 notes were written.

How'd that work out for us? Hmmmm... I guess motivation was not enough.

For either of us.

Same rule applied to Eldest's birthday bash this summer. Still mostly unwritten and $200 in gift cards sits fallow on our island.

Here's the thing, we do evites and I hardly have half the mailing addresses anyways so it will be a major pain if he does actually finish hand writing them.

Seems too late. Maybe I want it to be too late.

Honestly? Is it just me or do thank you cards seem like a waste of time, paper, stamp, and pollution? Can't the party and party bag be thank you enough? Or perhaps an email?

Here's the thing: I hate getting mail. I glance at a beautiful thank you card and then cringe while I throw it in the trash when I get it.

I do the same for birthday cards.

It seems so decadent and wasteful in this age of clear cutting forests and global warming.

Of starving children and bloated bellies.

Of girls not having the basic sanitary napkins to go to school in Africa.

For us to throw away a card.

Christmas cards I understand because we at least display them for a month as decoration. Still? I sent our holiday letter electronically.

But a thank you card? It's discarded almost instantaneously, yes?

Then environmentally, was that 10 second read worth filling the landfills, the carbon-emitting mail truck, the cost, and yes, the time haranguing my daughter or son to hand write them?

I guess I see them as a waste when a simple email would be so much more responsible and appropriate and yes, in this day and age of over-scheduled families, easier.

Yes, I said it, easier.

Am I wrong?

I know older generations and old-schoolers will get out the sticks and rocks for this sentiment. They'll string me up, but I'd like their opinion as well as those from younger generations: Don't you think this throw back from a different age's time has passed?

I honestly think the push to keep it is from greeting card companies and elderly grandmothers with no email accounts. Just like the newspaper, perhaps the ink and paper version needs to fade away?

Truly, is it the paper, envelope, and stamp or the actual sentiment that counts?

I've had this idea in my brain for a while:

If we sent email thank yous, around $20 would be saved that I could donate instead to Heifer International or another charity. That's an entire flock of geese for a village. Seriously. A protein source for little bellies.

If you received such an electronic thank you with a note notating a donation to a worthy cause, would you be offended?

I am thinking for my sanity, the environment and for charity, we could start a movement.

Who is with me?

Thx for the Flickr pics by AllisonKo, by massdistraction, by paperladyinvites, by OkayMaybeNot

Toe-Gazing: Top Ten Belated Blog Anniversary

2009-10-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

I've been blogging since December 2006...well with a few teensy breaks here and there for sanity.

You've heard of navel gazing?

Well this blog takes it a mighty little bit further.

I blog the inane and insane so I think it's more appropriate to call it a toe-gazing blog.

Yep, there's no filter here, my friends. Really. None. It's a guilty pleasure to write and I know for some of you it's a guilty pleasure to read because you've told me so. No shame in that.

I have flaws and I like to read about flawed people myself.

What's the fun of reading about perfect Betty in her perfect house with her perfect kids and most perfect sex life, eh?

(However, yes those are my perfect toes because me likey the shoes as if you didn't know...)

This blog started as a way to walk a tightrope and keep my sanity after moving away from friends, family, and my support system to Washington from California. I was moving to place unknown picked out on the Internet with three kids, two dogs, a loving husband, and high hopes and a huge mortgage. We moved to an affluent area which at times made me feel out of my depth. A simple, previous military wife and PTA mom in a very different world. A fish out of water. Did I mention the huge mortgage and this strange contagion to keep up with the Jones'?

No worries. I am generally cured.

Yes, the focus changed.

In time, this blog became how I worked out my marriage issues with a husband that also blogs. We work out serious issues and even when he tries to poison me. Then tries to poison me again. And? Le sigh. Again.

It turned into poignant memories blogged for my children so they would have a piece of the puzzle of really knowing who their mother was as a person when they were kids. I even discuss their substance abuse problems. Heh!

It evolved into a testament of my love for my family and a reflection of the no holds barred me.

It turned into a search for like-minded bloggers, friends, and readers who I could reach out to with my various health issues and losses of loved ones--both family and just as heartbreaking, the furry kind.

I dearly love the friends I have met through this blog especially over the hard times this last year and I hope you all know who you are because there are just too many to enumerate.

Foremost though this crazy meandering of my mind was the catharsis of writing down everything and nothing and I am incredibly proud of this record.

However, there are times I look at this blog and absolutely cringe.

{{{{Cringe}}}}

I think I cannot believe I said that. Really? I wrote that.

When friends and neighbors approach me saying they happened upon my blog, my mind goes into overdrive.

Someday this little writing of mine is going to get me in big trouble...

They are usually very positive, but please let it be known each time my mind is furiously cataloging post after post and realizing this person knows some of the most intimate details of my life, my marriage, my health, and my twisted sense of humor.

Even better, they tell me they read the post where I stole their apples...Got me! (Hey Susan!)

Or worse, when family members with different values discovered my blog and were hurt by my no bones bared honesty. I almost stopped blogging at that point...

In the end though, I do not regret starting this journey. It's been fun. It's been cathartic. And Jim Howdy, sometimes it is even a little teeny bit lucrative and pays for sushi and burritos. Whoop! I am a working woman, people! Heh!

So last September marked the official beginning of me blogging in earnest and taking over my own domain.

And I forgot to commemorate it.

However, I wanted to do a shout out to all you readers and bloggers out there. I appreciate every one of you. I puffy heart love your comments that make me think, support me, or even downright disagree with me. It keeps me on my toes. I am terrible at responding, but believe me I read and re-read every single one of your comments with glee.

So thank you, thank you, thank you for coming. 187,000 page views last year? Wow! You guys just rock, rock, and rock some more.

I thought I might end with just a recap to embarrass me a bit more to anyone who I know in my everyday life who find this blog. Perhaps you missed some of these? My top ten visited posts viewed of last year are below in no order. Feel free to click away:

#1
#2

#3
#4
#5
#6
#7 #8 #9
#10

Happy reading and thank you again, my friends. It's been a pleasure. It truly has.

Cross to Bare or Bear Crossing

2009-10-26T07:58:00.000-07:00

Constructing an email for yet another carpool drama, I ask my husband is it cross to "bear" or cross to "bare."

He laughs at me and says "bear" because "bare" would be this...

He raises his shirt to exposes his chest and midriff thinking he's funny.

PB then smartly shoots back, "No, Daddy, that's not bare. That's a bear."

Yep, bear crossing alert. Heh!

Yes, have I mentioned my husband with Eastern European roots is a hairy beast and there is photographic evidence on his own blog?

He might have stuck his middle finger out at us all laughing at him at the breakfast table.

Poor Sport. She got you. Oh, wait, maybe that's Bad News Bear.

Thx for the flickr pic by Tavallai

Lord, Help Us Now

2009-10-22T21:06:00.000-07:00

I gave birth to a beast.

My 13 year old is 5'9" and growing fast.

Fast.

He is also a swimmer. Two hours a day, every day. Even Sunday. Even Thanksgiving. Even New Years' Eve and yes, Virginia, 4th of July too.

Consequence?

We ate teriyaki last night immediately after swimming. The Kid was trembling. Kid could not wolf food down fast enough. He then ate half of Li'l man's plate of rice, teriyaki chicken, and fries.

Then he moved on to PB.

"Are you going to eat that?"

He points to the food she actively is forking into her mouth. She balks as he tries to snag a few misbegotten bites.

She finally acquiesces and like that {{poof}} it is gone.

The Tasmanian Teriyaki Devil has hit again!

I hand over my credit card with a sigh.

He orders another entree. More chicken, two scoops of rice with salad. His second large, adult-sized entree. The wait staff looked at us with a bit of crazy stink eye.

What? It's not like there is even an ounce of fat on the Kid's body? He's lean, slightly muscular, and all legs and awkward elbows.

He is a swarm of locusts in the form of a very skinny teenager with huge hands and feet that foretell a very tall future. His appetite cannot be quenched.

Yes, it's come to that.

I am mother to a two entrees are not enough teenager.

That buzz about Michael Phelps and calories? They are so not kidding.

I foresee our credit cards bills continuing to mount with no end in sight, my friends.

Sigh.

Thx for the flickr pic by Thomas Hawk

Circular Logic & Exposed: I'm on to Me!

2009-10-22T04:00:00.000-07:00

Remember I needed to make that ablation/hysterectomy decision months ago?

I've decided I am going to take baby steps.

Ablation it is.

Hysterectomy seemed so final and I worried about no more big "O's." Not that my period puts me in the mood that much anyway sadly for CG. Heh!

Just soo tired.

So decision made and yet, not scheduled?

Why? Someone stupidly became Li'l man's Halloween party mom, Swim Team Pool Representative, and PB's classroom coordinator.

CG did his best. Seriously by my side with my pen and sign up sheet in hand saying "No!" Friends suggested my previous convictions.

I didn't listen too well. Or maybe I did.

Seriously, it's an addiction.

Or perhaps...

Or perhaps a way to procrastinate.

A road block of my own making.

To blame volunteering for never getting my house clean. Never studying for the LSAT so I can get going on my personal dreams. For never losing weight. For never concentrating on me.

Never looking in the mirror.

Great avoidance technique, eh? Does this sound familiar to anyone? Perhaps not fixing period by ablation or other surgical technique so one can blame tiredness.

Maybe. Very circular.

So, Halloween funds are mostly collected so room coordinating pain is mostly done. Halloween party is next week. Pool rep? Well it's on-going but volunteering is a requirement for swim team membership so why not this way?

So, no more excuses. Must start studying. Must start exercising and dieting for liver. Must make appointment for ablation. Must get off butt and clean house.

I'm on to me!

Seriously. I'm on to me!

No more excuses.

So why am I still sitting at the laptop then you ask?

Tired.

Maybe when soul-sucking period is over too.

Did I mention today someone told me that anemia can cause fatty liver?

Circular as my butt.

Dropping my excuses and feeling naked.

Exposed.

Thx for Google images & flickr pics by prager.ws photoblog & by whizchickenonabun & by Christine ™

Nostalgic: Still Love This Speech

2009-10-21T12:23:00.000-07:00

Makes more sense and has more meaning the more years I live.

Nostalgic!

Spurs me to start thinking of my dreams I had at college graduation.

Law school. Career. Healthy body. Healthy College Funds for Kids.

It also reminds me of what I have to be grateful for husband, children, and home.

What were your dreams? Your aspirations? The older you get, the farther away they seem, right? Are you still working toward those dreams?

And more importantly, do you use sunscreen?

Age-Appropriateness, Personal Beliefs, & Birthday Parties

2009-10-20T12:21:00.000-07:00

We don't do age-appropriate in this family.

We just don't.

We do maturity-appropriate.

I make decision based on my knowledge of my children, not some arbitrary number some ratings board has decided.

I let my kids see R-rated movies. They don't scare them. They actually tend to bore them and they leave to play upstairs.

There's nothing like the forbidden that draws a moth to the flame. When it's not forbidden, it's a yawn.

So recently, I took my kids to Zombieland. My youngest two looked away in the gory party, but liked it.

Why Zombieland?

Only because we missed the last showing of "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs" and Eldest wanted to see Zombieland. (By the way, very funny movie. It rocked!)

So I know we aren't the conventional parents which is where you, my readers, come in. I need your advice:

We are planning PB's belated (isn't it always?) 10th birthday party. We were thinking dinner and a movie for about 12-15 girls from her 5th grade class and swimming group. They will all be in the 10-14 year old age group. PB will be the youngest at 10 years. Most will be 11-12 yrs.

We are thinking Twilight: New Moon.

It is PG-13.

How appropriate would it be to invite her friends to a PG-13 movie?

For those who don't allow their children to see PG or PG-13 movies, would this cause a problem for you to say no?

Would it bother you?

Would you judge us or be annoyed?

I wonder because she has quite a few friends who come from religious, conservative backgrounds. I don't want to offend them and yet I don't believe I should also have to cater my daughter's party to them either.

They make the best decisions for their children and I make the best for mine.

So back to you all: How much consideration do you give to your children's friend's beliefs and values over your own?

How much should one accommodate?

Peace

2009-10-16T08:52:00.000-07:00

Then on a cool autumn's morning,
in a warm glowing kitchen,
wrapped in soft baby blankets,
with low murmurs of our best golden girl memories
of soggy rawhides stolen and wiggling rumps,
stroked ears, and tearful kisses raining down on her auburn fur,
now intermingled with a new voice of compassion,
encircled by her people, her family,
with hearts full of poignant love and wistful regret that this day had finally come,
my first princess baby,
my Grendel,
left our family to find peace.

________________________________________________

It is done.

Goodbye my beautiful Grendel girl. You are already devastatingly missed, my love.

Today Should Be The Day

2009-10-15T10:59:00.000-07:00

Been sobbing all morning.

Eyes swollen.

Today should be the day.

I try to stay factual and calm and list the reasons.

Her lungs are filled with fluid. She vacillates between panicked panting, a hacking cough and limp listlessness.

Her legs have swollen to double their size on her right side. She can not barely stand on her own. She needs help to go to the bathroom. She has to be carried up and down stairs. She has to be reminded to drink water. When she does walk, she staggers with feet falling and slipping out beneath her with pelvis tucked in discomfort.

Her back is covered in baseball sized tumors giving her the exaggerated bumpy profile of a dinosaur. It has spread to four more on her rib cage, one on the inside of each hind leg, three more in her chest and the original one in her shoulder is a large as a miniature pumpkin.

There is one in her neck and one more in her hip/pelvic area. We found a new one today in the top of her mouth.

In all, I have counted over twenty masses. I am sure there are countless more in her chest, lungs, and pelvic region. Certainly, the crackling fluid in her lungs is due to the legions there and her heart being pressed by the tumors.

The only places spared on her thin, weak body are her silky ears and fuzzy nose--somehow my favorites to stroke her since she joined our family almost 14 years ago--and I stroke them often.

They are the only safe place to stroke her without causing discomfort.

It is such an aggressive cancer.

Well two.

Melanoma and Carcinoma.

The vet said four months at best. We got less than two. The time line is up.

I have even seen inky blackness in her eyes that make me suspect the melanoma is there as well. Her sight has obviously been affected.

She hasn't eaten much in days. Her limp head rests on my childhood quilt, limbs at odd angles, and she seems unable to muster the energy for even her eyes to follow movement in the room.

Occasionally, I can get her to eat a small bite of milk bone or graham cracker here or there. No real food.

She gets very sad when I bring her countless variations of bowls of real food, hoping one will entice her appetite. She cringes her body as far away from it as she can.

I get the pain pills down only with cheese and even then she, not fighting, just holds it in her mouth as if she is too weak to swallow. In my mind, I am tempted to give her ten or twenty pills instead of the half tablet prescribed by the vet. To end it.

Today should be the day, but it is also PB's birthday.

I just can't put Grendel down on PB's birthday.

The vet has been called. We are hoping for tomorrow morning at our home where she is surrounded with love. Tomorrow morning before I leave for Portland with the kids. I don't know how I will make it or how the kids will race with their hearts broken.

This has to have been one of the hardest decision I have ever made. I wanted her to go in her sleep, yet it is clear to me there is no more quality of life left and no reason to extend her misery. The good days are long since gone.

I do not think she is in pain, but her eyes tell me she is suffering. Her blessed tail weakly pumps still, but the twinkle in her eyes has long been extinguished.

Right now, I gave her extra pain meds--only one-- and she is half-asleep in the sun.

That damned sun.

The cause of this all.

It's warmth surrounds her surprisingly on this generally dreary Pacific Northwestern day.

Her eyes shudder closed.

The sun begins to wane. It is the sunset of her life with the dark coming quickly.

The decision is made. The kids have all requested to be there when she goes. I hope they can bear it.

Yet, my mind keeps second-guessing. My mind says all life is precious.

My mind says no.

My heart screams it's not ready, but it is time.

Tomorrow.

The vet called.

8 AM.

Why do I feel I am betraying her?

Amidst this, Seb has started having problems getting up the stairs. His legs tremble constantly.

My heart says after Seb, there will be no more warm ears and wagging tails in this house.

I simply cannot bear it.

I love you Grendel. I will always love you:

Drum Roll Please: Let The Oh Harry Giveaway Contest Commence

2009-10-13T16:31:00.000-07:00

So, a week has passed from the end of our Scholastic Harry Potter Contest & Book Set Giveaway and I was finally able to get all three kids together to vote on favorites.

Sad how busy we are!

Okay, what a crock! I know.

Shamefully, I added it to my calendar as the 17th, but wrote the seventh. Mere Details! I know, I know.

Let's blame CG because it's always CG's fault, right??

Heh! Okay, must focus!

Drum roll please...

Let's start with the the pictures, shall we?

Memories: For three book sets being offered, only two of you readers submitted pics of "The best moments photos of you, your children, or your family either reading any book or in Harry Potter costume;" Yet, those people submitted so many pics from which to chose...

So easy to judge, you both won!!

Beki won for this adorable pic the kids loved of her daughter at a book signing:

And the second set goes to Lisa from Unfiltered Insanity for her pic of friends (close enough to family) with death eaters:

Fandom: Two sets were to be awarded for fandom. Readers told us your favorite Harry Potter moments from the books. I printed out all submissions with names removed and the two winners picked by Eldest were:

Molly said: My favorite part is at the end of I believe the fourth book (isn't horrible my old brain can't keep the story separted by volume much less remember the titles) when Harry is fighting Voldemort and their wand beams (?) strike and hold each other. That whole fight scene was awesome and amazing and can only be rivaled by poor Dumbledors demise with frozen Harry having to watch. my favs...geez talking about it makes me wants to go start all over again.

Tendrils said: I have so many, but probably the most magical are all from the 1st book when J.K. Rowling gets us hooked through descriptions of Diagon Alley, the Sorting Hat, Platform 9 3/4, etc.

Close Runner up was this:

Lisa Unfiltered said: And, my favorite moment from any book has got to be Harry and Ginny's first kiss after Gryffindor won at Quidditch. So. INTENSE.

Very close, but I figured since Lisa had already won with her pic, I had him chose another. I am thinking Lisa is very attuned to Harry...

Finally, we get to my favorite loyalty.

Loyalty: Ahhh, people who left me comments that they blogrolled me.

Little old me and this imperfect blog:

It makes me all warm and fuzzy.

So, we put you all in a hat and the winner was:

Jeanne Sager from Babble: Strollerderby where her article linking me and my struggle with our Grendel's cancer I deem was the same as a blogroll

So ladies, please kindly send me an email at:

scout@unitedstatesofmotherhood(dot)com

Add in the email your mailing addresses which I will send on to Scholastic and pretty soon you will hear the pitter patter of postal feet with parcels of adventure and magic in their arms waiting for you to share with your families.

Oh Joy! Happy 10th Harry Potter!

____________________________________________________________

HARRY POTTER “The Magic of Reading”

BACK-TO-SCHOOL PRIZE PACK GIVEAWAY

Share the Magic of Reading with Harry Potter!It’s been 10 years since Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone was first published and a whole new generation of children await the magic of Hogwarts, and Quidditch, of Sorting Hats and Spells. Introduce your “back-to-schooler” to the first three books in this remarkable series and get them started on the reading adventure of a lifetime just in time for school!

In a Daze: ADD with a Splash of Motherhood, a Sprinkle of Hearing Loss, and a Twist of Insanity

2009-10-13T09:47:00.000-07:00

Dazed.

It is the definition of a mother.

With sleep deprivation, mommy brain and stressors of child-rearing, we acquire the ability for self-preservation by learning to tune out.

I, having been a mother now for over 13 years, have taken it to an art form. I am an artiste.

I sit at my laptop and somewhat hear the kids squabbles, but shrug, not really.

I hear them teasing each other and badgering me for treats and sweets.

I generally ignore. Most of the time, I don't even hear them. It's as if I am now the one wrapped in a womb of my own making.

Muffled.

Protected.

Seeking peace and yes, at times, solitude for my sanity.

Besides, it's good for them to work it out on their own, and more importantly, they should know by now that badgering in this house gets you nowhere.

It doesn't hurt that I have a hearing problem that corresponds with the frequencies of vowels. Yep, everyone sounds like they are muttering like Gollum so all the more reason to ignore.

Lately, however, it's caused some communication problems in my marriage. You see, after asking three times for this or that and I continue to plink on the keyboard, oblivious, he gets frustrated.

Or better yet, I get angry about something that he swears he told me about multiple times before. Was I glazing or is he covering? Hmmmm...

So, all you feminists will shudder, but lately, I've instructed to husband to do a sharp clap-clap to get my attention. Yes, like a dog. I even suggested one of these before the clapping methods.

We laughed.

Luckily, clapping? It seems to work. It's just enough of a shock out of the netherworld of Scout's mind to jarr her back to reality. Oh, yes, CG is trying to communicate. Must listen.

Yes, I know you think I am crazy. Nope, just ADD with a splash of motherhood, a sprinkle of hearing loss, and a twist of insanity.

As for the children? No, just for the record, the kids have not been given the privilege of the clap.

Nope, some things are just traditional with motherhood and tuning out squabbling kids and badgering is high up there on my list of what NOT to hear.

Yes, my friends, it's true. I've become a sad wife version of the clapper. I know my husband is scheming to make this work in the marital bed. Heh! Not likely.

Thx for the Flickr pics by whatmegsaid

HELP! WE NEED YOU! YES, YOU!!

2009-10-09T10:24:00.000-07:00

I usually don't beg, but the things I will do for my babies...

PB is entered in a casting call for Gap. She's ID: 110209884 or you can just click on the link or the picture to get to her page.

We've come late to the game, but it's my baby girl's dream, so please, please vote for her?

You can vote once every 24 hours and the contest ends. October 22nd. The top 20 get a professional photo shoot in San Francisco. Right now we need a mere 700-800 votes to be in that top 20!

Please. It only takes about 1 minute to register unless you already have a Disney account.

Okay, need some incentive?

Gulp. I'll let CG videotape and post on this blog a video of the kids throwing cream pies at me to celebrate if she makes the top 20. Seriously.

Pathetic, but I will...

Come on! Click!

Enjoying the Small Things & Autumnal Plantings

2009-10-08T10:41:00.000-07:00

So house still a mess? Check.

Laundry still undone? Check.

Enjoying sunsets with the kids despite it all? Check.

Happy to be spending more time with Li'l Man despite it all? Double Check.

Yep, he's a monkey!

Bonus?

I finally planted my autumn front flower bed with spooky colors.

Must revel in the small things.

It would however be nice to have some clean underwear right now. Sigh.

Gleaming Silver

2009-10-07T05:00:00.000-07:00

I find silver hair sexy.

It's true.

Anderson Cooper? Hawt! Sean Connery? Rawr! George Clooney over Brad Pitt all the way baby. Doug Wilson? Come to me baby. Daniel Craig? Anthony Bourdain? You had me at hello!

What? That's not a real video? Heh! Who cares what they are saying! Two silvers together? Don't ruin it with words.

Even better, I married a guy although a year younger, who is prematurely graying. A silver fox. Heh!

He hates it.

I love it.

He makes me cut his hair shorter than it was in the military to hide it.

Le Sigh.

Unless he gets a Brazilian wax, he won't hide it for long. While I wait, I've been checking out this.

Yep, in our family, not just the puberty aged kids are going through changes "down there."

**And, yes, I vetted this topic with him before posting because I am cool like that.

Best Recipe Ever

2009-10-06T18:01:00.000-07:00

There are recipes and there are recipes. This is the kind you don't share with neighbors, friends, or family. This is a recipe which will make you a signature chef. People at potlucks will clamor for it.

Don't share it. Keep it to yourself. This is the very best recipe ever.

It's practically food porn! Don't bother calculating the calories. Seriously. It's not worth it. Just save it for a special occasion.

Try it. The pictures are amazing.

Check it out. Tell 'em Scout sent you.

Mother-in-Law Rant: Dumbstruck

2009-10-06T08:23:00.001-07:00

Yes, this is a mother-in-law rant.

It stuns me that I can still be shaking my head dumbstruck with her even across three states and having not spoken in four years.

You see she still has contact with my husband and kids which I encourage. I just knew for my marriage's sake and emotional well-being, I needed to limit contact.

The hurt and anger is still there all these years, but it has dimmed considerably.

I've considered reconciliation and then ridiculous and quite silly circumstances like these come up.

So why am I bringing it up now?

Well, it seems both PB and Eldest invited their "Bunia" to be their friend on Facebook. It's reasonable. They also befriended my sister-in-law which I also haven't spoken to since she pretty much started this schism with her selfish ways.

I would never deny them their aunt nor their grandmother.

Back to Facebook, Bunia doesn't have a Facebook account. My mother-in-law has this intense fear of having her personal information stolen on the Internet. So much so that my husband was asking me to break into Eldest's Facebook account this morning so he could capture screen shots.

Why?

To prove to her how her profile appears to her friends and what it looks like to the rest of the world. She has it on highest privacy settings so even my kids, her only Facebook friends, can't see her information or even an email address.

Yet, she is still suspicious.

The world sees nothing.

This isn't unreasonable. In fact, it's entirely her choice to guard her personal information as she feels fit.

Why does this disturb me?

This is after all the woman who once railed at me because I sent a picture of my son on a birthday invitation postcard which had his name, our phone number, address, etc. Surely, it could have fallen into "the wrong hands."

Again, pushy in business not her own, but following a pattern. Consistency I can respect.

Until we get to this:

This same woman who thinks having her "friends" see her email address as egregious? And having her grandson's info on a postcard for a postal worker to see is up there with unforgivable?

This same woman nonchalantly scribed my name and my husband's names, addresses, phone number, and personal email addresses on a form to a time share company so she could get a measly discount and free gift on a second time share.

Without asking.

Without mention even until I asked when I started getting email from these spammers at my email account I use only for family and friends. My pristine, spam-free account.

Without apology.

Five years later?

I am still getting spam from Sedona timeshare companies. I also am on some Sedona spa's email distribution list as well--despite asking to be taken off.

Seems somehow my email got put on that list too.

Did I mention that I have never been to Sedona?

So must go. My husband wants me to email him that screen shot so that he can calm his mother's nerves. However, I have one question:

Does anyone else see the irony here?

Thx for the flickr pics by weebsie

Beautiferric: The Hair Show & Selfish Not Working

2009-10-05T10:14:00.001-07:00

I've been working on putting myself first sometimes. I think this is the root of my health and depression issues.

Just because I define myself as a mother and wife does not mean there cannot nor should not be room to take care of myself and yes, even be selfish at times.

I've taken a walk rather than cleaned the house. I've gotten more sleep rather than volunteer for another PTA cause. Sometimes, more often, I take breaks from my kids and let them figure out their own homework.

It feels selfish, but I am working on reworking my perception.

One step last week was actually paying someone to cut and color my hair because I am worth it.

No more boxes of hair dye from the grocery store or cutting my hair with a mirror in one hand and a set of dull scissors in the other. Nope, no more stories like this and this and this and oh, yes, yet again this.

So I went with great expectations.

Four hours and $125 American dollars later from a much lauded salon in Seattle?

Hated my hair. I asked her to fix it. Tone it. Do something. Yet I still came out as a striped white blond and maroon tigress worthy of your nearest strip club.

And yes, I stupidly tipped her. What a coward. I think he's rubbing off on me.

It reminded me of the words, "If you want something done right, do it yourself."

Lesson learned. I still cringe at how much I spent on myself.

Won't be going back. I will post pictures when it tones down or I throw a $7 bottle of dye on this $125 mess.

In the meantime, my nine year old got a hankering for a change. She liked my hair. Confirmed my crayola lines hair is a hot mess when your nine year old likes it.

So, lesson learned, we resolve to do her hair at home. Scary. Virgin, beautiful 5th grade hair. Maple syrup with beautiful honey blond streaks from summer and pool chlorine.

I tell her people would kill for her hair. She hates it. I acquiesce. We add chocolate brown base. Throw in soft black underneath and for low lights. Finally, we add subtle red highlights to the mix. We add to the mix a choppy cut and take off 3-4 inches in the process.

We like it. We both like it. Thanks be the color and cut gods.

My tip was this video she posted on Facebook:

The result:

Now I know you are thinking, what's selfish about doing your child's hair?

Ah, well, see, she gave me practice...

So I don't mess up my own. Heh! She is one sweet and willing little guinea pig.

Thanks for the flicker pics by King Chimp

It Really Could Be Much Worse

2009-09-29T14:11:00.000-07:00

I need to clean my house.

I really do.

I somehow though keep kissing my dying pup, going on walks with my husband, and spending time with my kids homework and swimming.

I feel my priorities are in order.

Then I look around and get depressed with the piles of laundry and motes of dog hair everywhere.

Sigh. It could be much, much worse. (Seriously, that link has to be the scariest thing I have ever, ever seen.)

Even so I trudge to do some laundry because dinner attire with husband's business associates might require more than yoga pants and bunny slippers. You think??

On Doors Open & Rolls Incorrect

2009-09-29T08:52:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here, reading about this and that on my royal commode.

I sit regally.

CG stops by for a visit. Yep, we roll like that. We are so an open bathroom door marriage. Heck, we are an open bathroom door family. It started when the door couldn't be closed when they were toddlers and I guess we never reverted back. We have an amazingly absent need for privacy.

I've judicially ruled many a kids' squabble from my erm pulpit of power.

So, today, I sat with unusually few interruptions when my eyes lit on an egregious error.

Someone had put the toilet paper on the role incorrectly.

My eyes burn. Oh, maybe I shouldn't use the word burn given where I repose.

No, not burn. Perhaps my eyes made more of an eye roll signaling a most obvious harrumph.

CG strolls by and fesses up. He extols some sad sack fairytale on how some dastardly fiend used all the toilet paper so he had to insert new roll all by his wittle bitty self. As if that would resolve him of all responsibility for incorrect installation of the roll? Sigh.

I lift an eyebrow. Nothing needs to be said.

He quickly walks in and insists on messing the roll up more to mess with me. Grrrr...finally, he fixes it so the roll is oriented with paper coming from the top and hanging over.

Yes, perfect. Only a hotel pointed fold would appeal more to my anal sensibilities.

CG laughs and tells me, "Just so you know, this is a new form of weird for you."

Weird? Me? Why this should surprise him, I cannot fathom. However, weird is right hence the video:

I should think weird would be someone barging in on a woman taking care of her business and insisting on fixing the toilet paper. Now that's weird.

So, my friends, are you door open or door closed in your relationships? Just weirdly curious.

____________________________________________________________

Don't forget to enter in to my Harry Potter Giveaway. Win a set of Harry Potter books just in time for Halloween. Leave a comment. Winners will be announced October 7th. Details here. The odds are very good... Just saying.

Thx for flickr pics by Scoobyfoo