June Goals Update

So you may recall that I took a low-key approach to getting back to my monthly goals. As the month is nearly 2/3 over, I thought I would update.

My plan was to copy my routinely used recipes onto recipe cards and put them in some sort of filing system. I bought a cute little cupcake binder with divider tabs (that I later discovered were all dessert oriented - lame). This weekend I picked up an inexpensive recipe box as another option. Those tabs were only slightly more useful lumping together "main dishes", for example. No breakfast tab, go figure.

I thought I would start this by keeping a stack of recipe cards on the counter. (Done) And then when I make a recipe from my scary folder of recipes, I would write it on the card as I made it. Slowly but surely this way I would work my way through the scary recipe folder.

It is the 22nd and so far I have written...

TWO recipes!

My Cajun Chicken Pasta recipe. Or I guess I should say Pioneer Woman's Cajun Chicken Pasta recipe (which is to die for).

As well as my puff pancake recipe.

Yay me!

Ok, so I suck.

This Friday when AB and I sit down to watch a movie on our brand new TV, I am bringing my scary recipe folder and cards over and I am getting busy.

But really, somewhat like my March goal with the cross stitching, a huge part of the goal is to set up "the system". Get the recipe cards, storage options and all and get them ready to fill so that when I have a recipe that is deserving of its very own card, it has a place to go! (Do not ask me how much of The Orange Tree I have cross stitched.)

July?

Decide on a color scheme for the front entryway/office/dining room part of the house. I didn't say act on this. Nope, no painting. Just decisions. And convincing my husband that *my* color scheme trumps anything that he may come up with in retort (because he never likes mine right off). Because he will do this. He fancies himself somewhat of a designer - but don't tell him I told you this.

Aunt Annie's Alligator

I have lucked out - both my kids went through a "Dr Seuss's ABC's" phase. This was one of my favorite books as a child. I can recite it by heart.

But what I really love about this book is hearing Skadi's running commentary on every page.

Me: "Barber, Baby, Bubbles and a Bumble Bee"

Skadi: "Yeah, but bees sting."

Me: "Camel on the ceiling"

Skadi: "I want a camel on MY ceiling!"

Me: "Goat, girl, goo goo goggles"

Skadi: "I am a girl!"

Me: "Jerry Jordan's jelly jar - "

Skadi: "He made a big mess, look it's on the floor!"

Me: "Many mumbling mice - "

Skadi: "I don't like mice, turn the page." (This used to be one of my favorite pages!)

Me: "Nine new neckties, a nightshirt and a nose!"

Skadi: "I have a big nose!" (At this point I argue with her about the size of her nose. It is small.)

Me: "Painting pink pajamas, policeman in a pail, Peter Pepper's puppy, now papa's in the pail"

Skadi: "That's so silly, why are they in pails?!"

Me: "Rosy's going riding -"

Skadi: "NO! Say Skadi's going riding!"

Same thing with Young Yolanda... but by then I have remembered...

Me: "A yawning yellow yak, young Skadi is riding on his back!"

Skadi: (giggles)

Me: "A Zizzer Zazzer Zuzz as you can plainly see."

(This is where there are problems...)

Skadi: "What is a Zizzer? Does he bite? Why does she have long hair? Is she going to eat those childrens next to her? Why is she bigger? Does he bite? Why does he have teeth?"

It's a miracle I made it out of there!

I was chatting this evening on FB with a friend from high school. One thing we always had in common was a love for music. He told me what he was listening to right now - Sam Cooke - and because I am not a naive young teenager anymore afraid of not knowing something, I admitted that I wasn't familiar with him. My friend then typed "American Idol".

And fear set into my heart. Must change the subject.

And a whole new type of nervousness kicked in... the "I can't admit that I have never seen American Idol" type of nervousness.

Nope. It's true. Never seen American Idol.

I blogged recently about how AB and I have dropped off the face of the planet with respect to TV.

Thanks to Facebook I knew to set the Tivo for Top Chef - though I am certain that Rachel or Vanessa would have clued me in. I also knew that a new season of Entourage would be starting soon.

AB says we don't watch TV because we have a crappy CRT TV.

Yes, we do have a 12 year old or so CRT TV, but the thing works. And plus, we never watch it.

My mom was an avid TV watcher. And she admitted it proudly too - she loved watching TV. When I was a kid our evenings were filled with watching TV. Cosby Show, Different Strokes, Mork and Mindy, Dallas, Charlie's Angels... you name it, we were there.

After my mom passed away we opted to do a few things in her memory. One was to plant some roses in our garden and get a stepping stone to create a living memorial to her.

The other was to bite the bullet and buy a new TV. This one pleased my husband greatly. But really, last I saw my mom she said to me, "I don't understand, high def TV's just AREN'T that expensive anymore!" I didn't tell her we just never watched TV, though I think it was obvious when I hadn't seen any of the HGTV episodes and admitted to having never seen a long list of shows she watched.

So really, it was an appropriate thing to do.

AB researched what "we" wanted. And then one night a little over a week ago we sat down and placed the order for the top of the line, 50" Panasonic Plasma TV. And a blu ray. And a new receiver with DVR. And an articulating mounting arm.

We are going to get back on the TV bandwagon one way or another!!

We thought that was going to happen this weekend.

I came home over lunch today to receive this nice, nifty new TV from the shipping company that drove it over to our little town from "the west side".

They unloaded it, brought it in, unpacked it.

Then the driver sat shaking his head.

"It's broken," he announced.

"What?" I asked.

He beckoned me to the other side of the TV and there before me was a massive crack across the screen.

"Wow." I said.

"That's a shame," the driver said.

"Wow," I said.

The driver picked up his phone and called the distributing warehouse to tell them it was refused for the crack. He pointed to the Amazon.com number for me to call at the same time. I did, and told them it was refused.

They quickly credited the account, but told me since it was a third party seller fulfilled by Amazon I would have to go reorder it online, they could not simply replace it.

That... has proven more difficult than I anticipated since it appears that cracked TV may have been the last one on earth like it. Or at least the last one on earth for what my husband deemed to be an appropriate price to pay.

Ok, so back to the point. Appears our foray back into watching TV? Delayed.

But someday? I will know who Sam Cooke is, or what the flap is about Cougar Town, and I can even see myself delving into Pawn Stars. (Which is about as appropriate as my mom's love for "Ice Road Truckers".) Maybe I will return to getting my Adam and Jamie fix? Big Love was supposed to redeem me this past year and make me love TV again. Top Chef will make me want to go cook. What is going to make me want to waste my time in front of the TV instead of on the internet?

The really weird things my kids say

Skadi: "See I am happy now, I am not sad anymore. Instead I am just looking outside and thinking about how weird the trees are!"

Me: "Ok, why are the trees weird?"

Skadi: "The purple trees are weird mommy. We have lots of weird purple trees."

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Making his Daddy Proud

Leif: (While shopping for Father's Day Cards) "LOOK MOM! PRINCE NOVAMA! PRINCE NOVAMA IS ON THAT CARD! THAT FATHER'S DAY CARD HAS PRINCE NOVAMA!" (Seriously like top of the lungs in the crowded Father's Day aisle. I see people craning their necks to see what he is pointing at.)

Me: "Leif, it's President Obama, we have President's, not Prince's and that probably is NOT a good card to get your father."

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Leif: (speaking to me) "Hey babe,"

Me: "Hey babe? What happened to mommy?"

Leif: "You're a babe!"

Me: "You should know that I may choose to remind you of this when you are 16."

The dreaded sleepover party

When I was in first grade my parents invited all the little girls in my class over for a sleepover.

A few went home, my parents called their parents when the girls didn't stop crying.

At least one wet the bed - or the floor - given that we were all in sleeping bags on the floor.

Who knows when we all went to sleep.

And my parents made pancakes for what seemed like hours the next morning.

When it was all over they sighed that it would never happen again. And it didn't. My sister never had her sleepover party.

Sure we would have sleepovers, but these were individual girls and never a sleepover party.

So why I didn't just immediately say "no way Jose" when Leif started talking about a sleepover party, I have no idea. I did say, at the time, well you have to pick 3 kids at the most IF we did that. Trying to play to the notion that he would only get three gifts. Is it awful of me to do that?

What I really should have said was the thing that my friends told their daughter, "nope, you can have a sleepover when you are 7, we can start planning it now".

Leif's proposed guest list has included two of his close female friends. I told him that I was pretty sure that their mommies were not going to allow them to spend the night with four little boys.

"No mom," he replied, "we are big boys."

"Well that just bolsters their case," I told him.

Nope. I didn't think way back when the topic first came up. And so now we are feeling a bit stuck. And yes, I do get that I AM the parent and can just say no. And we tried that.

"Leif," I said, "daddy and I just don't think you are old enough to have a sleepover party."

"I really think that I disagree with you,"he replied, or something like that. His exact words are evading me, but AB and I both sat there looking at each other wondering if he was 5 going on 17.

Yes, I could just say no. But it is hard when he has his heart set on something so strongly.

I have been working to entice him away from his plans for weeks. After the party at Coach Brett's (that was always a very exciting thing when he was littler) a week ago, that he had loads of fun at, I pushed the issue. "Are you sure you don't want a Coach Brett birthday party?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot.

I suggested Rollerena, which was the leading candidate last October thru December, despite the fact that Leif isn't so hot on rollerskates. At the time I was a bit turned off by the notion, but somewhat entertained as I heard "Skateaway" in my head as I whizzed around the rink.

Rollerena is no longer a candidate, despite my mentioning a few times, "but they have air hockey!"

Friends have made suggestions, what about the Children's Theater? The Court Club?

Then I hit on an idea.

"How about Chuck E. Cheese?" I heard myself mentioning to AB one evening.

"Fine," AB said.

So today Aunt Tara and I packed the kids up and headed to Chuck E. Cheese to test the waters.

This is a huge accomplishment for me. I don't do Chuck E. Cheese. See this happened while I was in Colorado and for some reason it hit me then like a ton of bricks. And I never set foot in Chuck E. Cheese again and I cringed whenever anyone suggested taking the kids there.

So it was a huge step forward for me to walk through the door and get my and the kids hands stamped (so that when a child leaves, they make sure it belongs to the person the child is leaving with). Right there? Big red flag, that I am sure is supposed to make me feel better...

We got a pizza, we spent our 35 tokens (about 6 put into games that didn't work). And I told myself I could do this. I can do this. I can host a Chuck E. Cheese party and no crazed gunman is going to come in. Really.

We left after the kids redeemed their 60 tickets for a pink plastic ring, a tiny rubber snack and three lollipops. Total ripoff.

But I told myself I could do this. I can bite the bullet and send out Chuck E. Cheese invites.

Then tonite we set to talking about the options.

And Leif says, "no, I really just want to have a Wii sleepover party with three boys."

Ok. Fine. Done.

I am getting off cheap this year. The cost this year will be a mere one sleepless night.

(Wondering how much I can pay Aunt Tara to hang out downstairs with the boys and get them to bed while I snuggle in my nice bed?)

Funnies

Leif,

Ken Yokum to birt.

Love, Cate

Poo



Translation:

Leif,

Can you come to my birthday?

Very sincerely, Cate

9:00am



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Ponies



AB has a habit of saying, "well I want a pony" whenever the kids ask for something unreasonable, which is most of the time.



And for the record, he does not want a pony. Neither of us really cares for horses and most definitely has no desire to own a horse.



Skadi: "I want that toy!"



AB: "Yeah, well I want a pony."



Skadi: "Daddy, you do NOT have long hair."



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In the car on the way home.



Leif: "Mommy, I have been waking up at night and I am SURE that Mina is checking in on me and tickling my feet!"

(Mina is the Elf that checks up on the kids every Christmas and reports their behavior to Santa.)

Skadi: "Me too! Mina has been coming to my room too and tickling my feet!"

Noted that it is nearly 6 months till Christmas... I am thinking Mina may pop in for a visit!

A most difficult topic

One of the single hardest things in dealing with my mom's death has been in regards to my kids. Death is just not an easy subject to get, like at all, for the younger set.


When AB and I told Skadi that grandma died, she looked at us and said she wanted to go play with her dollhouse. We didn't expect much more, but still felt the need to say it to her.


Leif was a different story. He knew for months that something was up. We said daily prayers for grandma, we talked about her being sick and late in the process we admitted that grandma probably was not going to get better and was probably going to die. He sobbed and sobbed one evening that he didn't want grandma to die.

Neither did I, sweet boy.

When my mom died we sat Leif down and told him. His first response was an angered, "I wish she would have washed her hands." Because no matter how many times I have tried to explain the difference between a communicable disease and non-communicable disease, he just hasn't gotten it. "But my teacher said that handwashing prevents diseases!" He tells me. I can't caveat it because that isn't what his teacher says.

And I am resisting the urge to talk to the teachers about specifying the difference between diseases we catch through germs and those that arise from different sources. Because I see how this can quickly become complicated to 3-6 year olds.

Leif has handled it quite well to this point and tends to tell us that "but it is okay, because she is with God and she isn't in pain." And at Sunday school the other day when Skadi started talking about grandma dying, he was quick to explain "well she had this disease".

When I had kids I never gave it a thought that my mom would not be here to share them with me. We live far away from family, but somehow my mom always made it closer between webcam sessions, visits and little packages that would arrive for every holiday and some non-holidays as well.

I lost my grandfather when I was 13 years old. At that age I well understood the concept of death and that my grandfather had been sick for a decade with congestive heart failure and diabetes. No one was terribly surprised when he passed away at 72.

Surprisingly it has been Skadi who has been stuck on the topic of grandma passing away the last week. Nearly every time we have been in the car she immediately starts asking questions.

And not all of them are easy to answer.

"Where did grandma die?" (This one is easy, she died in Colorado at the hospital.)

"Where is grandma now?" (She is in heaven with God.)

"Like Jesus?" (Yes, I guess like Jesus. Though Leif reminded us that grandma did not die on the cross like Jesus did.)

"Where is heaven?" (Umm, way way high up in the sky, where she, God and Jesus can watch over you.)

"Is she on top of the clouds?" (I believe she is on top of the clouds.)

"Can we visit her on the airplane?" (No.)

"When is she coming home?" (She isn't coming home.)

"When will she come see us?" (She isn't going to come see us anymore.)

"Why not?" (Because she died, like how flowers die and turn brown, or like if you step on an ant and it is dead. Realizing of course that now she is going to think that grandma was stepped on...)

"Did grandma die?" (Yes honey, grandma died. Here we go again.)

My stepdad picked up some materials from Hospice to help with explaining death to kids this age. I get the whole keep it simple thing. But I suck at that. I tend to take things to a complicated level - more complicated than it needs be level - very quickly.

I ordered about four books today from the extensive list that Hospice provided after studying the Amazon ratings trying to find books that jive with our beliefs. Customer ratings can be a wonderful thing... or they can really suck up your time and make you a neurotic consumer.

This evening I asked Leif to say prayers. For the second night in a row he declined. "I don't have any prayers tonight," he told me.

"Sure you do," I said. "Think about prayers about keeping everyone healthy, or helping us all be happy, or being with grandma in heaven." I listed the options off.

"I am tired of sad prayers mommy," he mumbled to me half asleep.

"Then how about a happy prayer," I said and quickly tried to come up with a happy prayer. What exactly is a happy prayer? I have my own belief on the things that we should and should not pray for. And I am not sure what it stems out of. But in the moment I could only think of one thing that so violated my thought of what prayers should be about.

"Pray to God that you get some nice things for your birthday," I said to him.

And he did.

Getting back to it

That is my goal for the month of June. I need to get back to working out every morning. I need to get back to eating well - okay, so I always eat "well". What I really mean is that I need to work at eating healthy and not snacking. (I truly do not know why those Cheez-It Duos beckon me like they do.)

I have added only one June monthly goal on top of this.

And I think it is an easy one. A good one for easing back into life as normal.

I need to organize my recipes.

I love recipes.

I tear them out of magazines, I print them up on the computer, I have e-mails from friends with recipes. I really love recipes.

What I don't love is the big vinyl folder that I keep them all in. I flip through page after page vaguely remembering if the recipe I am seeking is on a printer page or on a half magazine page with or without a picture. No organization whatsoever.

I also have a big binder of recipes sorted in pockets by type of food. It was a good organizational tactic, until I got the vinyl folder for "everyday" recipes.

Oh and did I mention there is a drawer in my coffee table with recipes?

And I also tried the journal book with the names of recipes and online sources. (Flop.)

Bookmarking is a good option... if I know exactly what I am looking for.

So the plan is that when I make a recipe that I have made more than once and know I will make again, to pull out a recipe card and write it up on the card as I make it. Then I toss the sheet of paper and file the card in a recipe binder that I bought today.

I bought a cute little cupcake recipe binder, only to get it home and realize that all the tabs are for desserts.

And well, desserts? I have a repertoire of like 5.

My mom's rhubarb custard pie, my mom's chocolate cake, nectarine pie, the chocolate chip cookie recipe on the back of the Nestle bag and my great grandmother's sugar cookie recipe.

I don't need tabs for those.

AB suggested I just "cross them out and write over them". My sister in law said I could print up little labels on the computer and then cut to fit the tab so it looks neater.

Guess who is more in tune with me? Yes, it bothers me that the tabs are wrong, therefore I need a solution that isn't "cross it out"!

So there it is. My monthly goals for June. Exercise. Quit snacking. Pay attention to portions. Consider rerererecommitting to Weight Watchers.

And deal with the disorganization that is my vast collection of recipes.

Critic for a day

I haven't been wow'd by a meal in a long time. I think the last really fabulous meals I ate with my family (i.e., excluding last week's trip to New Mexico) were in Seattle. We ate at Wild Ginger on our trip for Mother's Day and had a most fantastic sushi dinner in Belltown with the kids in a tiny little place that our concierge assured us was kid friendly. It wasn't really from first appearances, but they were good - they entertained and fawned over the kids while AB and I ate some truly awesome sushi.

Unfortunately, I don't usually hold high hopes especially when we eat out in town. Tonight was no different.

Right now I am reading "Garlic and Sapphires, A Diary of a Critic in Disguise" by Ruth Reichl. I really, really enjoy Ruth's writing. This is her third novel I have devoured. As I read, I think about a life on a different planet as a food critic.

So here I sit - living out my little food critic fantasy.

This evening we went to "Fat Olives", the new Italian joint. We passed two families leaving when we walked in wearing our standard clothes, not dressed up. I thought seeing families leave was a good sign.

We waited only a few minutes for the table for 5, which was really just a card table looking thing with a high chair perched at a corner.

Ever try to feed a three year old - or any small child for that matter - at a corner of a table?

As we headed in my sister in law pointed to the small print at the bottom that expressed disdain for crying children. Ok, so it cited the bad acoustics, and then asked that any small children be removed outside while dining. I guess I just think that if you are going to have a whole menu page devoted to pizza, then instructions on how to deal with your children are probably not hitting the target audience. And really, this are is like huge on kids, people like it here because it is a great place to raise kids. Kid unfriendly restaurants are just a bad fit.

I believe that the attitude tossed our way by the waitress was probably thanks to the kids. Or maybe that we weren't dressed up. Or maybe both. She was hurried and short with us.

The selections weren't abundant, and there was a little concern at the table when at 6:30pm two of the specials were nearly gone - one serving of pork shank left and three of the lamb. We ordered a small pizza for the kids, I ordered the house calzone, AB ordered the pork shank and my SIL ordered the lamb.

I asked for milk for the kids, which they did not have milk. Yes, seriously. We ordered instead a bottle of apple juice for them to split.

A few minutes after ordering the waitress came back and informed AB there was no pork shank left and handed him the menu.

Over the years we have had opportunity to eat some really fabulous meals and we have spent the last decade or so refining our cooking. AB cooks meat quite well and will only order meat in a restaurant when it is a type he doesn't cook. So the waitress repeatedly recommending the rib eye or the pork tenderloin was going nowhere fast. He finally settled on a clam and mussel Alfredo sauce dish.

The food arrived and was fine. The lamb was done nicely and tasted good. But it was a boring dish. No pizazz on the lamb. It was served with asparagus and potatoes. Both prepared fine. But for AB and me, this is a routine weeknight dinner that we can whip together in 45 minutes... blindfolded.

AB's pasta was lackluster, he felt the sauce didn't match the seafood. Though he said "it is fine". My calzone was good, though I have to admit that I far prefer the calzones from the restaurant near work. The best dish at our table was the 12" pizza that the kids had. They ate it well, each tackling nearly two pieces.

The food was fine. But at the price we paid, we would be hard pressed to go back. Except maybe for the pizza. But I wouldn't go there to eat the pizza... we would pick up and bring home.

One star of five.

These are a few of my favorite songs...

My music tastes tend to change with the wind. I can tell you what my favorite songs are now, but who knows if they will be my favorites in another week.

Same with books.

Lately I have found myself gravitating to the "oldies". Going back to the music I listened to growing up. I think this probably has a lot to do with my mom passing, but the songs that are hot on my iPod, weren't necessarily her favorites.

When I think of my mom's favorite music, I think of things like Mamma Mia and other contemporary musicals. These were her favorites most recently.

My music tastes as a kid reflected my parents. That's one of the advantages to having young parents... I KNEW who Ted Nugent was back when he actually sang instead of pontificated. (I suppose if at 3 years old you think that knowing the words to "Cat Scratch Fever" was an advantage...)

As I got older and lived further away from my parents, our tastes diverged, though my mom and I often compared notes. When I discovered Greg Brown recently, she was the only one on FB who jumped up and said, "he is one of my favorites right now".

My parents fell on the Stones side of the fence - not the Beatles side.

Me? Well this is one of my top played on my iPod right now.




Leif's first song he declared as a favorite was "Yellow Submarine". This was when I fully understood that 50% of his genes do come from his father.

When I was in high school I picked up "Tangled up in Blue" for my mom. Her copy was worn out.

I couldn't find a good video that wasn't a cover, but one of my favorite lines ever:

"I like the smile in your fingertips, I like the way that you move your hips, I like the cool way - you look at me. Everything about you is bringing me misery."

Another top song right now on my iPod.

One of my favorites now is an old song that I despised as a child... after all it was country and by Kenny Rogers of all people (everyone say "ewww" like an 8 year old little girl). Then I found this cover and the world changed.





Something about this one though just screams "like".

Next on my list of most played?

"Domenik the Donkey" (thank you Skadi) and "Who Let the Ghosts Out" (thank you Leif). We just won't go there. And yes, there is a reason that the play number of these two horrible songs is exactly equal.

My mom went through a Johnny Cash phase too. I don't know that "Long Black Veil" hit her favs, but it is getting loads of play in my car.

I haven't been able to touch some of my mom's favorites with a ten foot pole yet - "Me and Bobby McGee" for example. I suppose it is easier for me to skirt around the edges right now.

When I was at my mom's shortly after her passing going through the computer I went through her playlist. The song that blew me away on there was this one:



I went through a big Terence Trent D'Arby phase when I was what... about 14? I played this all.the.time.

I guess at 14 (or whatever I was) I was too absorbed in myself to note that my mom had fallen for this song too.

The funny things that we discover after the fact.

Oh and this one? I can listen to. Because my childhood memories don't include my mom singing along to this one.

The little sister

This evening Leif rode his bike all the way to the middle park. With us all in tow of course. When I was a kid it was probably fine for me at that age to venture that far out.

But I guess I am just one of those overprotective mom of a less than confident little boy.

There was little whining along the way, I suspect mostly because he had a target in mind.

The coveted middle park.

The park where we quite often run into other children his age, and most often from his own school.

This evening was no different. The one little boy who lives on the park, who is not my favorite child, but I am learning to tolerate as I see that he may have less confidence than my son and his actions and the things he says that make me cringe are most likely stemming from trying to appear cool to my son.

Two other boys showed up who are also the same age as Leif and know him from school. Two boys that I far prefer and at least one of them I know his parents through work pretty well and am confident that they share similar parenting values. The boys were instant chums and split up for a quick game of soccer where the boys argued over who got to be captains and who got to be on my son's team. In talking with the other parents, they admitted their kids were not much for soccer, or for that matter any sports. Which is fine. AB and I enjoy sports and Leif has easily glommed onto this.

After soccer the boys went to the playground equipment and played and chased each other and enjoyed each other's company.

There was one other person in the park this evening.

One very lonely little girl.

Skadi stood around, refusing to join the soccer game (which didn't hurt my feelings any - those big boys can be a bit rough). She wouldn't go near the boys.

Instead she came and stood by me and said, "those boys are mean to me".

What she really meant though was, "those boys have stolen my playmate from me".

On a normal day a trip to the park is usually a solo venture for the kids where they play together and run around together.

My baby got her first taste this evening of not being included with the boys.

This maybe a harsh realization as she moves up to preschool this month and suddenly sees that her brother does indeed have a life outside of playing with /tormenting her.

Skadi moped around the park a bit, whining about the mean boys. AB finally went over and took over Leif's place being "the grumpy old troll who lives under the bridge" and coming up with wacky riddles for her to cross the bridge. AB didn't once ask her a math problem - it was a nice evening for Skadi in that respect. (Leif made up for it later though when he quizzed us the entire way home... what's 1600 times 1600 mom? Well then what is 2,560,000 times 7? We may be introducing the concept of a calculator sooner than normal.)

It's one of the tough lessons growing up. Realizing that siblings have their own friends.

On my way home!

I don't normally travel for work. Like at all. I send people on travel. But me? I just don't travel.

It's not that I really despise business travel. Actually I like it a bit. I like going to a new city, eating good food that isn't available in my small town, shopping at places we don't have (hello Trader Joes, Whole Foods... yes, I grocery shop on travel). I like to be a bit of a tourist and try to usually set aside a bit of time at each destination to see things I wouldn't normally see and to take in the local culture.

But traveling is difficult for a working mom. I miss my kids deperately. I am lucky that I have a very capable husband who supports me in my career. But being a single parent for a week is rough. Not to mention my husband's work schedule - he works four 10 hour days, leaving the house at 5:30 am and returning at 6pm thanks to the nearly hour long commute. Me being gone? It's just hard on the whole family. People tell me that it is good for the kids to rely on others, to rely on daddy. Maybe.

Lately I seem to go to DC every 6 months or so, which is one of my favorite destinations. There is so much to see and do in DC. Over the years I have hit most of the Smithsonian museums, the Korean War Memorial, the Vietnam War Memorial, Arlington National Cemetary, the Lincoln Memorial and the WWII Memorial. Not to mention hanging out in Georgetown, seeing an opera at the Kennedy Center and mastering the Metro. The Air and Space Museum has the best gift shop. A normal tourist would likely see all these things in a single trip. But when you are factoring in that I am fitting this all in between meetings and most of these sites are only open 8am to 5pm, I have done pretty good with my DC trips. AB is headed to Baltimore for a week of business travel in June. I am very excited for him and am planning his itinerary.

Last week I flew to DC, managed to eat good sushi one night, got up the next morning and headed to the meeting then took the most crowded Metro ride to Union Station (this was my little bit our being a tourist where I wandered Union Station for 30 minutes and bought two little trinkets for the kids). Then I boarded the train to Philadelphia to spend two days with my most favorite client.

That was a whirlwind trip. No real touristy things on that trip. Next time I am in DC the Spy Museum is on my list. My coworker tells me that the gift shop there rivals the one at the Air and Space museum for bringing goodies back for the kids.

I went to Albuquerque this week. I left Monday afternoon and hung out with the work crowd that I haven't hung out with in years. It started stressful for me, but ended okay, save for the miserable presentation I gave at the end. I think my mind had just given up. I don't know how people who travel regularly do it. I truly don't.

My willingness to go to Albuquerque for the entire week was prompted largely by the fact that I have never been to the desert Southwest. I find this odd particularly since I grew up in Colorado. It just isn't that far away from Colorado!

I had a teleconference on Wednesday that I had to sneak out for, this provided a good opportunity for me to duck out for the entire afternoon and fulfill my need to be a tourist for a bit.

I headed down to Old Town Albuquerque and immersed myself in the culture.

Oh and I did a bit of shopping too. I also roasted... After weeks of cool weather back home and cool weather on the east coast, I was completely unprepared for the heat of Albuquerque.

The best food I ate during this trip was a visit to Little Anita's in Old Town. I wasn't terribly hungry, though I needed to get back to the hotel and get some stuff done there. So I grabbed a bowl of green chili and a couple of sopaipillas.

AB asked me if the green chili was better than his. What an unfair question!

AB's green chili is hotter than hell and he smokes the meat he puts in his chili, which imparts a smokey flavor to the chili. It wasn't better, it was just different. I would have called this green chili mild, and I was surprised by the chunks of potatoes. The meat was the standard pork but simmered to shreds. And the sopaipillas... Sopaipillas are the reason I never made it to the cupcakery across the street from my hotel.

I gave my failure of a presentation on Thursday... normally I do well at presentations. This one I faltered. (Tritium Producing Burnable Assembly Rods, Tritium Producing Burnable Assembly Robs... why could I not say this? And why did I have to attempt it over and over?)

I headed to Whole Foods, then a quick trip to Trader Joes. I picked up Meditteranean style munchies for dinner, as well as a half a bottle of wine (and another corkscrew, this one IS going in my luggage for good so I don't have to keep buying them while traveling) also a slice of ultra dense chocolate cake.

I did succeed in finding a variety of frozen chilis to take home to AB this morning that I packed in my luggage and hope stay frozen for the day of travel. If not, I suppose we will be making green chili this weekend!

My next trip is slated for mid-August to head back and see my favorite Philly client again. AB is hoping that the fact that I have my next travel scheduled isn't indicative of a trend that seems to plague the majority of my coworkers. Nope. I am going back to the no travel mantra. Ok, except for my annual program review with my second favorite client... and maybe for the summons issued to me by favorite client. But other than that? No more business travel!

Venturing back

In a way, it is hard to get back to blogging. I have this huge list of blogs to write about, but I haven't really felt like blogging, I have been overly busy and well, I just haven't been in that frame of mind. I blogged, in large part this last year, for my mom. She loved the safe haven of my blogs and hearing the stories about the kids. I purposely kept the majority of the cancer details out of my blog.

I enjoy blogging. It's cathartic to me. So the best thing to do is dive straight in I suppose. This is going to be an unusual post from me. It's lengthy (that's not unusual, I tend to be wordy, but you can deal or click away). There is love. There is anger. There aren't too many laughs. And not a dang thing funny that my kid's have said. But it is what it is.

My mom passed away after a 14 month battle with a rare type of liver cancer called cholangiocarcinoma. She was the picture of health so recently, nearly vegetarian, a marathon runner, a hard worker. And young. She was only 56. She had done everything right. She was not one of the risk categories for liver cancer. This took us by storm.

She battled hard until she could battle no more. The problem with rare cancers is that the drug companies don't invest resources into making drugs targeted at a disease that only 4000 people in the US get a year. All the chemos she tried were being used "off label". She battled and battled. When she wasn't on chemo, she suffered heartache. She needed to fight.

When I visited her in March her oncologist took her off chemo and very kindly and tenderheartedly suggested Hospice. Only 6 weeks later, on May 10th, the day after Mother's Day, she lost the hard fought battle.

She entered the Hospice ward at a hospital a few days before as they were unable to care for her at home. At that point she was lost in her body. She did not speak, nearly comatose from what I understand, but eventually did start responding a little in her own way and finally saying a few words on Sunday.

On Mother's Day she mustered an "I love you" into the phone. I didn't hear it, though I think I had the phone up to Skadi's ear at the time. My baby heard her grandma tell us she loved us.

My mom passed away quietly that Monday. Her breathing had changed that morning and while holding Rick's hand, she just quit breathing.

It has been a very surreal experience. I flew to Colorado that Tuesday morning, afraid to look at anyone for fear that they might expect me to speak to them. I buried myself in "Breaking Dawn" - the least likely book to remind me of my heartache while I travelled. On Tuesday when Rick picked me up, my guard came down. We cried and talked for three days.

The after.

I have learned through this experience how atypical my mom was. Also how I have apparently inherited this atypical-ness. And why this is atypical and not typical, because I didn't realize beforehand that there is certain expectations that those left surviving are "supposed" to uphold. It appears I have faltered in many of them.

My mom did not want a funeral or burial service. This did not surprise me at all, I remember when I was 13 years old and my grandfather died and how my mom complained and was creeped out by the whole process. Instead, we will give us all a bit of time to mourn and then hold her Life Celebration in Colorado on July 17th.

I have felt through the last year or so a lot of judgement placed on me, my mom and my family by others. There are times where I wish that I wouldn't have even shared what is going on so that *I* don't have to live up to what other people expect in situations like this. So that *I* have not had to explain to others my mom's wishes.

I have often wanted to yell at people. (And I don't normally yell... but anyways.) I have wanted to YELL, "What do YOU believe I should be feeling? Why isn't my path appropriate? Why can't you accept the way MY family is without forcing YOUR expectations on me?" I found that much of the perceived judgement came only from those people who in no way had persevered this magnitude of loss, could in no way have any idea what was going on.

Those friends of mine who had or are going through similar issues, were the softest, the gentlest and the kindest.

Everyone is different. My mom was a different person. An intensely private person. My mom took huge pride in my sister and me. In me, she was proud of my degree, proud of my work, proud of my kids, proud of where AB and I have positioned ourselves in our lives.

And I will never forget one of the last things she told me in person as I hugged her small frame goodbye for the last time.

"You are where you are supposed to be. You have your family. You need to stay there and take care of my grandbabies. A lifetime is not defined by a moment in time, a moment of passing." She didn't want an audience. My mom never wanted an audience in her entire life. She wanted to go quietly, softly and rest in knowing she had passed her being on in at least five people in the world - myself, my sister, and our kids.

It felt right for me to return to work shortly after my mom's passing. Truly, if her passing had been less expected, not something we prayed to God about to take her softly and to remove her suffering, then I would have needed a lot more time. But my grieving, my getting used to losing her, was something that was spread over a year. I grieved with every setback in her diagnosis, every scan that showed the cancer advancing, every doctor who regretably, could not help her. I grieved. I hoped, but I was also a realist and therefore I grieved.

I embarked upon two weeks of business travel a week after my mom passed. For months I had talked to my mom about this travel. She knew how I loved going to DC and she knew how I looked forward to riding the train to Philadelphia and then spending a few days gawking at big-ass boats like a tourist. She was excited for me to go to one of her favorite places, New Mexico, and to experience the desert Southwest. In those last few months of her life, she raved about sopaipillas and art galleries and her love of New Mexico. Not going on my travel served little purpose. I knew that my mom would have wanted me to go.

During these past three weeks one thing that happened that shocked me, was that "friends" were defined. I bonded with Jen from high school who was losing her sister in law in a similar fashion through cancer, her sister in law died days after my mom did. I bonded with Erin from high school who lost her father and was a tremendous resource. I met my mom's closest friend, Noreen, who was a tremendous sounding board for me during those last few weeks and the person who kept me talking and sharing experiences with me when she lost her sister to cancer.

I hung with one of my coworkers in DC who knew exactly what had happened, had prayed for us, and then didn't let me out of his sight. I had to convince him I could walk across the street to Starbucks by myself (and to the shop next to that to get Advil for that raging headache). He didn't say a word, but the way he looked at me out of the corner of his eye asked me if I was ok every hour or so.

My very close friend Melissa kept it real by e-mailing regularly, asking only occasionally how things were, but all the time realizing that life still goes on and sharing all those little details that friends share about their days.

I cried with Rachel whose father has recently been diagnosed with a rare cancer.

I sobbed under Heather's hand in the bathroom at work when I got that phonecall.

My Philly client took me off to the side after our review and wanted to know how my kids were doing with my mom passing, and when I started talking and kept talking and finally had to tell myself to shut up, she asked me more questions to keep me talking.

I drank beer with my lead engineer and talked NBA finals, never mentioning my mom. His kind e-mail to me days before said it all.

There are others. I can't list the compassion of everyone during these last three weeks. But actions resonated.

Life goes on. I am grieving. I will be grieving for a long time.

But I am not fragile. I will not break. I have two children who, for the most part, haven't felt the impact of the loss and who still need to go to school daily, finish up baseball, still behave like the biggest goofballs alive, and strive to make me smile. I love life. I am dealing with my loss my way and when I am able.

Obituary

Barbara J. Carbaugh, 56, passed away peacefully on May 10th, 2010 at Pathways Hospice Care Center located in McKee Medical Center, Loveland, Colorado. She lost her 14 month brave and courageous battle against liver cancer. Our loss is great, however, we are comforted to know she is now pain free and in God’s loving hands.

Barbara was born in Casper, Wyoming on August 2nd, 1953. She graduated from Natrona County High School in Casper, then from Casper College with a degree in business administration. She was employed at the Casper YMCA where she was the membership and racquetball director. She moved to Fort Collins, Colorado in 1986 with her future husband, Rick Carbaugh and her two girls.

Barbara began working for Inhausen Research Institute in Fort Collins and learned the pre-clinical bio-medical research business. She managed the business for many years and purchased the company in January 2007, renaming it High Quality Research. She welcomed the new duties including marketing and quickly added new clients from Colorado as well as national and international companies. Her honesty and integrity created a positive business and personnel relationship with her clients. Over 25 years she has researched many products which may help other cancer patience. She was an active member in many bio-medical and research communities. She sold the company to her general manager of many years on April 30th, 2010. She and her survivors take great pride knowing she spent these years helping mankind.

She loved life and had many diverse interests and hobbies, but none more important to her than her great love for her husband, daughters, grandchildren, family and friends. She spent several years as a skilled racquetball player and teacher before her passion turned to running. She ran the Bolder Boulder for many years, then always seeking a greater challenge started running half and full marathons. She completed nine marathons including qualifying for and completing the 100th running of the Boston Marathon. She was an avid hiker, baker, traveler and loved to read.

She is survived by her husband Richard "Rick" Carbaugh of Windsor, Colorado; daughters Dr. April Carman and husband Hans of Richland, Washington; Angela Allie and husband Joel of Denver, Colorado; mother Shirley Jeanne Walker formerly of Casper Wyoming and presently residing in Denver Colorado; brothers David Walker of Denver, Dr. Michael Walker and wife Laurie of Sitka Alaska, and Robert Walker of Casper, Wyoming; grandchildren Nick and Celeste Allie and Leif and Skadi Carman. Preceded in the passing of her father Eugene Lemuel Walker.

All of her family wish to express our deep love and appreciation to all of the caring, talented and compassionate medical staffs of Front Range Cancer Center and Dr. Robert Marschke, Poudre Valley Hospital, Medical Center of the Rockies Radiology Department and Pathway Hospice and Care Center.

The world is a better place because of what you do and how you do it! Bless you all.

Barbara will be missed and loved forever and never, never forgotten. A celebration of her life will be held at a later date.

Skadi Speak

Skadi: "I have a mini to go put in my mini bank!"


Alternative: "I have moneys to go put in my mini bank!"


Translation: "I have a penny (or any single coin) to go put in my piggy bank!"

Mini = single coin.
Mini Bank = where you put your coins one at a time.
Money = Plural of mini
Piggy = Just the shape of the mini bank

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One of my favorites recently:

Leif: "Hey Skadi, do you like Green Eggs and Ham?"

Skadi: (Stuffing cereal in her mouth.) "No, Go fish."

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Every once in awhile I get bored of Dora. We read Dora books every.single.night.

Every night.

I beg and beg for one of the many, many other books in her bookshelf and she says no. Only Dora.

So sometimes I make things up.

Like: "Hello Skadi, I am Swiper would you like a cookie?" Instead of "Swiper, no swiping!"

So I was a bit surprised when she responded quickly without missing a beat and a completely straight face - I go for the giggles, I want giggles. But I got a straight face and a simple response:

"Hi Swiper, yes, I would like a cookie, a caramel cookie!"

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I had a stomach ache and was laying on the couch.

Skadi took my temperature (with her doctor's kit), listened to my heart and stomach with her stethoscope.

"Here," she said, "I get you a blanket."

She covers me up.

"Ok now," she continues, "Push the baby out."

AB's head whipped around quite fast! My jaw dropped open.

When I inquired at school no one had any ideas. I loved though that Ms. S admitted it was her, that she was the one expecting (a widow in her mid-50's with boys my age). They did tell me that one of Skadi's "friends" (term used loosely - she has a lot of conflicts with this one little girl) has been telling everyone her mommy is going to have a baby, though no one thinks it true.

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And wrap up with a Leif one.

Leif has been a bit emotional lately.

Ok, so he has been a lot emotional lately.

Everything bugs him, you can't look at him sideways. His feelings get hurt very easily. Most of all, he seems terrified of not having me around. I think this is common at this age, but it is also a bit more prominent with my mom's health. This absolutely breaks my heart.

The other night he was hugging me, "Mommy, even when you are a grandma, I don't want you to move out of this house and leave me, ever ever. I want you to stay with me always."

This is of course, contrary to him telling me the other day he was getting married and moving to "her" house. When I said I would miss him terribly he agreed to split the nights between "her" house and ours. One night at "her" house, one night at our house.

Well at least he is honest... I know what I am watching for in another 22 years!

Privacy? What's that?

We seem to have a bit of an issue in our house.

Modesty.

A lack of modesty.

I keep hearing that just one day the kids will want their door closed, they will close the door when they use the restroom and they won't run around naked. I ask Leif if he closes the door to the bathroom at school knowing that it is up to each kid, "sometimes", he tells me, "when someone tells me to."

Typical, oblivious little Leif.

My son is going on 5.5 and it hasn't happened. He desires no privacy.

It isn't like AB and I are hippy parents. Our parents weren't nudists, we weren't raised in the buff.

You may have noticed pictures of my daughter in the blog... she starts out the day in one outfit, changes a few times to suit her mood and then finally mid-afternoon has had it with clothes and runs around in her panties... if we are lucky and can convince her to keep those on.

I leave our bedroom and bathroom door open on weekday mornings since while the kids sleep, I work out and then shower. They come in when they wake up and tell me they are up (me in various states of dress or undress), then they crawl in the bed and watch whatever happens to be on the little TV. I don't lock my door. My son sees me nude, but it's no big deal to him. Will it be at some point? Or will it just become a big deal to me?

Leif is better about keeping his clothes on than his sister, but he is often seen carrying his clothes to a particular place in the house to get dressed - to be near whoever.

Our friends' daughter (age 6) spent the night a few weeks ago while her parents went to a nice wine and food dinner. At one point she told Leif, "I need some privacy". And Leif wasn't joking when he said, "what's that?"

She had her pajamas on when Leif walks in naked, carrying his pajamas to get dressed near everyone else.

Giggles erupted!

I quickly directed him back to his room to get dressed. Oblivious-ness set in again, "I just want to get dressed where I can talk!"

See Leif and Skadi also still bathe together at 5.5 and 3. We have tried for the last six or so months to split them up. We have tried alternating bath nights, we have tried consecutive baths, we have put them in different bathrooms. Somehow they migrate together. If it is Skadi's bath night, then she is begging Leif to get in and play mermaids with her and he is all too willing. If it is Leif's bath night then we are physically restraining Skadi and locking her out so that she doesn't get in with him.

Which is less healthy?

Within a day or so we give up these attempts and let them go back to their baths together where they play and laugh and blow bubbles and see who can float the longest.

I am waiting for that day that Leif requests privacy... though right now I am thinking Skadi might reach that milestone first, given history.

Then again, maybe not, and maybe we are just hippy nudist parents.

(Oh goodness, wonder who is going to be directed to my blog now with keyword searches...)

The Institute of Pie

I am a fan of pie.

You have to be to be in my family. Though stopping there doesn't really suffice. Because everyone likes pie, right? Of course they do. But coming from my lineage makes one an automatic pie connesiur and there exists a gene in the Perchert - maybe even all the way back on the Turnquist line that once properly activated also makes you an excellent baker of pies.

My great grandmother had it. My mom had it. I worried it skipped a generation, until mine was properly activated. My grandmother never activated hers and on the rare occasion she was forced to make a pie (after my mom moved away), she did the absolute unthinkable and bought refrigerated crust. My hipster mid-20 something year old cousin in Portland? She makes a mean pie too - I have seen the evidence on Facebook.

My daughter is getting the proper inaugeration as well.

She is being raised right, her gene will be activated.

Or maybe it already is.

"Mommy, look I have the flour on my nipples!"

I actually make pie with my clothes on... it helps with this problem.

The wonder that is... field trips!

Remember looking forward to field trips? Field trips, anywhere? Just the opportunity to escape school and spend time somewhere else.

My favorite ever field trip was to Fort Laramie when I was in 4th grade. It was the "big" field trip of grade school - the one that since we were in 2nd grade we heard about and looked forward to. For us it was a full day trip - we left at 7am, boarded a bus and rode it for two whole hours!

I remember nearly every detail of the place, the jail, the houses, the center courtyard, how children who stepped out of line were punished, the stories of "Indians" (because we called them Indians back then). Even as a kid I was always impressed by stories of another time and place. I loved stories of the west - still do - and I wanted to be Laura Ingalls Wilder. I remember that Dusty had money to buy a mouth harp and my mom balked because he would ruin his teeth with it and SHE of all people knew how much those braces cost!

We got back that evening at about 5pm. It was a day I will never forget and I would love at some point to go back... though I always worry that my impression of the place would be forever changed viewing it as an adult.

I had a few less than stellar field trips too.

Every year each grade at my school would do a trip to the planetarium (stellar) and a trip to the fish hatchery. One year Phillip fell into the fish hatchery trench.

Yep, into it. Funny, I think it was also 4th grade since I remember the same teacher packing us all up early (before we had eaten lunch) putting us back on the bus and bellowing the entire 30 minute trip back to the school.

One year I was in Girl Scouts and the parent leaders enjoyed organizing field trips. I remember them packing us in their cars - seat belts? Well they don't have seat belts in the back of hatch backs. I remember my back being squished against the back window of a Pinto hatch back while the parent driving smoked and screamed that if anyone touched and ruined her defroster lines on that back window we would be paying for the repair.

We went to the post office once.

Snore.

We went to the blood bank another time. This one gave me a stomachache literally and figuratively. We hadn't been told about the field trip, the leaders just packed us up and took us. My mom had no idea where I was and this gave me a stomachache. I was never to go anywhere without her knowing. She knew I had Girl Scouts, but none of us knew of the field trip to the blood bank and there weren't cell phones back then to make phone calls.

I remember seeing the stacks of bags of blood and feeling light headed. Then watching the blood sloshing back and forth coming out of the people's arms and I could barely get myself to the restroom.

When I got home I was waiting to be yelled at, but my mom simply said, "I was wondering why you were late, but I knew you were at Girl Scouts". I don't think my mom knew until then - which was about the same time I quit, how inappropriate the leaders probably were.

Leif had a field trip today. Definitely not his first.

The teachers gave the kids opportunities to earn pennies. Then when "everyone" got to 100 pennies, they got to go to McDonalds. McDonalds is a treat to my kids. We don't go often and tend to reserve McDonalds for traveling. The main reason is because I find the Play Area kind of... well just not exactly the place I want to hang out with my kids for more than one reason which I don't need to go into now!

Leif prided himself on being one of the first to hit 100. Actually he hit 126 before the teachers counted them up and told he and his close boy friends that they had to stop. I found it odd that it was a few of the girls who had a hard time hitting their 100 - and really came down to the wire with at least two not hitting the mark.

The McDonald's trip was today and all week Leif looked forward to it. I wish he had the interest and drive to get to school on time everyday. Every few minutes he asked if we were still on time? Yes, I told him. We will make it there by 9am. We normally aim for 8:30am and occasionally make that. I didn't tell him that it is rare that we don't get there by 9am, I just enjoyed the morning of him hurrying around and prompting his sister to hurry as well.

This morning he told me that he had ordered (pre-ordered) two brownies. I told him how I loved brownies and I knew that he did too.

He was quiet for a minute, then he looked at me and said, "I am going to bring home one brownie for you, okay?"

I reitterated to him how sweet that was, really, but that no, he earned his brownies and he should eat them there at McDonald's with his friends.

I have the sweetest boy ever!

Leif's prayers this evening

Dear God,

Please help grandma not be sick anymore. Help us all not to get sick. Please help us not to make inappropriate rules.

Amen.

(I am thinking someone thinks losing his Wii privileges for the entire week might be "inappropriate"...)

Parents behaving badly

There seem to be some general types of parents on the sidelines at kids' sporting events. We have so far been on both sides as parents and AB was a coach this winter for Indoor Soccer. Leif's baseball team so far seems to have the most widely varying and very stereotypical parents we have seen so far.

Here are the types:

A: Yeah, I call them A for a reason. Type A parents are the ones whose kids are the best and most talented and they let everyone know it. (In their eyes.) "Have you noticed that little Johnny can hit that ball everytime? Look at him! See he hit it again. And on top of that he can throw a perfect curve ball. Hey Johnny, come show her your curve ball. Come on son. Show it!"

B: Then there are the opposite. "Look at Billy, how ridiculous. He can't do anything right. Son, what are you doing out there? What are you thinking? Can you at least try to hit the ball?"

C: The chatter moms. "And what did you think the teacher said then? Well of course you know. And those are really cute shoes! Where did you get those shoes? Did you hear we are getting a new restaurant in our part of town!?"

D: The haggered mom with four kids, one of whom is playing. "Tammy I told you not to bother her, no you can't go play on the playground, you guys need to sit right here and watch your sister. No, I don't have any more food, you ate it all. You have your sippy cups. Jamie, aren't you watching your sister? I told you to watch your sister! No, I don't know where the bathroom is. STAY RIGHT THERE."

E: The where did she go mom. "Ok Scotty, if you need anything yell, I will be over with your sister at the playground. I will be watching you if you need something."

F: The varsity dad. "Yeah, I know your coach said to do it this way, but in my experience the best way to hit the ball is like this. Just how we practiced 18 times this weekend. Yeah, I will come out and help you." (Then he never leaves the field and takes over for the coach.)

Seriously we have like all those on my son's team of 12 kids.

I am part C and E depending on the sport. C given the right friends to surround me - which in baseball there are none I am close with. So in baseball, I am mostly E. I refuse to confine my daughter to the sidelines, so we walk the 100 feet to the playground and watch while I keep glancing over my shoulder. When AB shows up we divide and conquer - one of us watches and encourages our son, while the other works hard to wear our daughter out on the playground.

I don't really mind most of the other parent types. Save for one.

Parent type B.

This woman drives me insane. She drags her folding lawn chair with tiny umbrella to her spot and she opens it and doesn't move a muscle but her mouth the entire time.

"Emily, didn't you see that ball? It went right past you!"

"Emily, step on the base. On the base. DID YOU HEAR ME, I SAID STEP ON THE BASE! Go back and step on the base. Yes, that one, third base. What you don't even know what third base is? Sheesh girl."

(Looking at all the other parents.) "I love her I guess, but wow she makes me nuts."

(Who says they "guess" they love their child?)

"Emily, get your tongue in your mouth. TONGUE in mouth! You are going to bite it off and then you won't be able to talk!"

"Hit the ball. You are supposed to actually HIT the ball."

"Get your TONGUE IN YOUR MOUTH!"

She makes me nuts. She makes us all nuts. She makes the coach nuts.

It's YMCA soccer. In the packet we get a list of 100 ways to praise your child.

Poor child has probably never heard a single one.

Seriously.

I just enrolled Leif in the local more competitive soccer league starting this fall. Yes, registration started March 1st for fall soccer. I am only guessing it is going to get 10x worse in that league.

(Ok, I am done now.)

Ready for the weekend!

Oh wait. You mean it is over?


I would like to order another day please.


This is one of those days where if I had loads of vacation time - I would be staying home tomorrow to recover.


It has just been one of those weekends. It started with two minor household chores that each turned major in their own right.

Part of the February-March goal was to get and install a pull out spice rack. After much deliberation and measuring the cabinet - at least four hundred fifteen times - I placed the order. If you ever want to put pull-outs into existing cabinets I have to recommend you look at Rev-A-Shelf. Really nice quality. And you don't have to replace the entire cabinet like Home Depot started out telling me we had to do.

All you need to do is yank the door off, remove the shelves and hardware, attach your door to the front of the unit, then screw it into place in the cabinet!

Sounds easy right?

We had thought about everything - like even that the knob on the adjacent corner cabinet would have to be moved. And that it would be the only cabinet in the kitchen with a funky placed knob - but we could deal with that when we were talking about the bigger picture - a fancy pull out spice cabinet!




A little wood putty will fix that...


Remember when I said we thought about everything?



Yeah, I was wrong.



We did NOT think about the hood.





Ah well. Lessons learned I guess.

That little shelf in there just houses those little used spices (black sesame seeds anyone? fennel seeds?).

We still love the pull out, though a little disappointed at neglecting that one detail. But if we had it to do over I am not sure we would have changed and done anything different.

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The next task this weekend was to replace the coveted instant hot water tap. I never had one of these before moving into this house, but I have become freakishly dependent on the silly thing.

Perfect French Press Coffee in 4 minutes flat. Top Ramen for the kids in 3 minutes. Starbucks Via in as fast as you can dump the packet in the cup and fill the mug with water. Tea? Your steeping time is all. Instant oatmeal for the kids? Only as long as it takes the oatmeal to cool to edible temp.

Yes. I fell hard.

So when it cracked and emptied itself all over the bottom cabinet a few weeks ago it was a no brainer that as long as it was under $300, it was getting replaced.

I found one for $130 and pounced.

If you don't already have one, it would be a pain to install as you need the hole in your countertop. But replacing one? Also a no brainer.

Ha.

Famous last words.

I took Leif to a birthday party and came back to find the heater sitting still in the middle of the kitchen floor. Turned out that the one I bought was ever so slightly bigger than the one we pulled out. Making installation in the same position impossible thanks to the placement of the garbage disposal.

We went to work debating the next move.

AB's plan was to cut a hole in the cabinet and mount it halfway in the pie shaped empty area between the cabinet and the neighboring drawers.

I cringed at that and pushed for mounting it in a different under the sink spot that would only require a copper tube extension.

Easy peasy, I told AB.

This is my thing, I reminded him. See you just need connector compression fittings and a length of copper tubing.

And I added on that it would take me seconds to do in my lab and I had all the equipment there. Though that was just anecdote to boost my method because no way was I driving all they way out to work to do use the tools in my lab OR to "borrow" the necessary fittings. Dang lab rules.

Instead Skadi and I ran to Ace to grab copper tubing and fittings. And then we bought a tube cutter too... since the Ace dude had NO idea how to cut tubing and I knew the edges would need to be cleaned up before installing ferrules.

$33 later...

Hooked it up and it worked!

Then I walked upstairs all full of myself to change laundry around, pulled open the dryer and saw my wet clothes sitting there.

Wet clothes.

As in not dry.

I pushed the button.

Nope.

Once AB confirmed that I was not being a dork with the dryer and that it was not the breaker, I pulled the clothes out and hung them on the banisters.

Then I pulled the clothes out of the waher and hung those on the banister.

Then I pulled AB's work cell phone out of the bottom of the washer.

Yeah, one of those weekends.

Weird things my daughter says...

To her teacher today at daycare:

"Actually I want my pee to stay inside my bladder."

(Both my kids start sentences with "actually" and "probably" to a ridiculous extent.)

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To me this evening:

NM: "Skadi what did you draw?"

Skadi: "It says humback whales are not allowed to draw on the door."

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In the car this morning:

Skadi: "I am going to punch you in the face!"

NM: "SKADI! We do NOT say that we are going to punch people in the face. We NEVER punch people in the face."

Skadi: "I know. We can only punch elephants in the face."

It's all about the hangers!

It was an innocent enough action. Last time I went to Target I grabbed a pack of pink child’s hangers. Skadi was in need of more hangers. No big deal, right?

Except that the majority of the other hangers in her closet are white.

It would have never been noticed that there existed a realm of pink hangers had I just stuck with the white ones.

But now every article of clothing on a WHITE hanger has been deemed offensive.

Every white hanger needs to be banished to the depths.

This morning the dress that Skadi REALLY wanted to wear was found to be on the despised white hanger.

She took it out. Took the dress off the white hanger. THREW the hanger in the trash. (I retrieved the hanger and put it in Leif’s closet.) Pulled down a pink hanger. Rehung the dress on a pink hanger. Hung the dress up. Then stated:

“Oh I think I will wear this beautiful dress on the pretty pink hanger!”

Guess who will be loading up on freaking pink hangers the next time I go to Target?!

Pictures of the cherry blossoms...

Say what you mean or mean what you say?

I think Skadi got a bit of my grandmother in how she speaks. Skadi very easily makes up words and mispronounces words. It's always been a bit of a joke with my grandmother. About 10 years ago she got out of back surgery and they weren't going to release her from the hospital because she was mixing up her words - someone finally convinced the therapists that was just how she spoke. And it's been that way since I was a kid.

Word: "Tamrow"
Usage: "Is it going to be tamrow?"
First thoughts: Tamara? A name? We were starting to think it was an imaginary friend.
Reality: "Tomorrow". Only took us a few months to figure that one out and I beat daycare to figuring it out.

Word: "Holy-popper"
Usage: "Look through the holy-popper."
Reality: Well this one is obvious since she is holding her set of kids binoculars when she says it.

Word: "Holy-scoper"
Usage: "Look through the holy-scoper."
Reality: Yeah, not much difference than the above. In this case it is in reference to the telescope on the Little Tykes playset. She got the "scope" part.

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Leif: "Can I have more tuna fish casserole?"

AB and I were perplexed.

NM: "We haven't had any tuna fish casserole, plus I thought you didn't like it?"

Leif: "No, the good tuna fish casserole!"

AB: "We don't know what you mean Leif."

Leif: (walks over to the cooling lefse) "THIS tuna fish casserole, can I have more of this tuna fish casserole?"(pointing to the lefse)

This happened twice. And yes, I am still perplexed.

Skadi's Party

We finally got around to holding Skadi's third birthday party.



She had repeatedly requested a Coach Brett birthday party. And I entertained the notion a bit. But then we opted to vacation to Silver Mountain for our anniversary with the kids and Skadi's party got the shaft. Ok, yes, I could have done the big party and I know she would have liked it. But I just had trouble bringing myself to forking out that dough for a 3 year old party. It was different when Leif was three and we did a joint party there for he and Cate. Next year Skadi.



We did a princess dress up party for her and five of her closest friends from school. I wanted to keep it small and it worked well for her. Leif had two older siblings over to play and they pretty much did their own thing.

Skadi enjoyed hosting her friends:

Olivia

Raquel

Best friend, Lexi

as well as Maddie and Sophia (pictured below).

We started with dress up in the play room.

Then we went outside and released butterflies.

Remember those days when it was cool to wear the same clothes as your best buddy?

Then the bubble machine came out.

Finally snacks and cake.

This pictures scared me a bit... Skadi and Maddie were bickering a bit about something, I am pretty sure it was the cake. And Skadi was looking a touch possessive about the cake. And all I could think about was the story my mom used to tell me about how she got a bit possessive of her cake at age 2 or 3 towards her cousin and put her dress over it. I was a bit worried...

But nothing like that happened!

And last presents.

Shrimp anyone?

Skadi had her well child visit the other day. It was actually last week. I normally post stats and such quickly and do a comparison.

Comparing didn't require me going to my blog this time. I know who is bigger/heavier.

Not my daughter.

I am not terribly tall, but I am not short either. Just a touch under average at 5'5". AB is just over average at just over 6' tall. So one would reason that our children should fall in there somewhere.

Leif at three was pretty normal to slightly tall: 32 lbs and 55th percentile, 39.25" and 85th percentile. Makes sense.

Skadi started out big... but if you project her adult height based off her current 3yo well child stats she should hit about 5'3".

It caused a bit of pause from her doctor. 30.25 lbs (gained 2.25 lbs since age 2) and 36.25" (grew 1.25"). She is just under 50th percentile for weight and hitting in at 29th percentile for height.

Not that big of a deal - she could be between spurts... she could be leveling out on the charts and being where she should be and will thus just not be a tall girl (the short genes do run on my side with my mom and grandma).

We have noted that she is the smallest among her peers. AB is the one who recently started commenting on it prior to the doctor's appointment. I keep buying size 3T for summer clothes and occasionally 4T for next fall. But her 2T's fit her best still. And the size 9 Keens I bought on clearance at a great price in pink for this summer? They should fit her next summer I expect...

The bigger concerns lie with her constant complaining of back aches. I have taken her to the doctor before with no path forward and a feeling she is just latching onto something to complain about. This time I pushed it because she cries, "mommy, my back hurts" and bends over or grasps her back. It just seems real.

And sure enough when her doctor pushed on her back - at her kidneys, Skadi jumped and said "oww!"

That earned her a quick referral for an ultrasound this week.

Not a great well child visit for age three.

The resurrection according to a 5 year old

Explaining Easter to a five year old isn't so easy. There are a lot of misconceptions.

Leif: "The Easter bunny is just a man dressed up in a bunny suit who comes to your house, not a real bunny."

(Ok, that one is just plain creepy.)

Leif: "I can't wait to get a Wii game for Easter."

(There were no Wii games. We do itty bitty toys in baskets, no presents.)

Leif: "The bunny has to be a tall man in a bunny suit and not a rabbit, otherwise how else would the eggs get as high as they did this morning?"

AB: "Bunnies do jump."

Leif: "Not *that* tall dad."

The resurrection is a touchy subject for kids. And it's sermons like todays whereby I am glad our church has Sunday school. Easier to let the Sunday school teachers give their rosey version.

Here is what Leif conveyed to me:

"Jesus was brave and the bad people killed him on a cross. Then they put him in a tomb and God put a huge stone in front to block him from getting out after he was dead. Then he stayed in there for three days and three weeks and God was mad and so there was a storm or earthquake or something and the stone moved and Jesus left his clothes there, but he was alive again so he left without clothes on and so that was good! But I don't know where the bunnies came from, he must have gone to see the bunnies after he was alive again."

Pretty good for a first exposure to the origins of the holiday!

Skadi's song

(She thinks I am just typing here, ignoring her, but I am actually transcribing her song... that she is singing and singing and singing...)

When I was a little fairy,

And I wear my Easter dress,

And I have owies on my knees,

Jolly, la la la, jolly, la la la,

My dog Freya

When I am all far away I need my dog,

I see the flowers and I go far away, I need my dog,

Right there when I sleep through the night (ha ha ha)

When I waked up I got my dog out with clothes on and

When I want to just run to Freya,

When I run to the stairs and run up the stairs and go see Prince Ramon in the stone tower,

When I was a little brown nose (???) and I was Nemo,

And mom was a dad and I was Nemo.

And we barked too!

When I am a little jolly, I feel to do this.

And when mommy was a little jolly with me.

And we throwed in the garbage what was broken.

Run to the window, run to the fish.

And I dance, and I dance, and I dance,

And I was a princess who cried "boo hoo boo hoo"

And when I go to bed I should sleep (lays down)

When I waked up, when I was sleepy on the ground or on the sidewalk (???)

Well a butterflies should do a fly and then I go to bed on the ground or on the sidewalk.

And I have bigger toes.

When me has a baby, throw the baby and that was silly!

This was silly!