Sweetheart

Mason came out sweet and loving. He is naturally kind and thoughtful. I didn't have to teach him how to be these things, they are a part of his character. Mason truly wants to make his family happy, and he is pretty good at it. Whenever we talk to his teacher, she always describes him as kind and thoughtful, so it's not just my imagination. :)
Today, when I picked up Mason, he had a small pillow in his hand. He yelled, "MOM! I MADE THIS FOR RISSA SO SHE CAN HAVE A PILLOW!" As Joanna buckled him into the car, she shared that Mason had specifically asked if he could make a pillow for his sister because she didn't have one in her crib. He was very proud that he had sewed it by himself, and wondered aloud if his sister would like it.
When we got home, Marissa had awoken from her nap and was excited to see us both. Mason gave her the pillow. She was thrilled. She hugged it tight and gave it some kisses. Mason was so happy and so proud that Marissa liked it, and my heart nearly exploded with the tenderness of the whole thing.
I am grateful for my sweet, sweet boy. I am so glad he came to live at my house.

Last Chemo Treatment. HOORAY!

Last night I got a text from my brother, Brandon, saying that his son had just finished his last chemo treatment. I am so grateful that their ordeal is over, and they can move on with their lives. I am grateful for the strength and love of our family, and the opportunities we had to lighten my brother's family's burdens while they were in their darkest times. But mostly, I am grateful that we still have Austin here with us. Soon after we knew of the seriousness of his diagnosis, I forced myself to come to terms with the very real possibility that we would lose Austin to cancer. There were a few times when I was sure his time was near, but he stayed strong and fought hard.
I love you, Austin! Congratulations on kicking cancer's butt!

Marissa-isms

On the list of my favorite things Marissa currently says:
killy (kitty)
Hernie (Ernie from Sesame Street)
Singing, word for word, any number of songs from the They Might Be Giants educational dvd's, particularly "One Dozen Monkeys" and the science songs. Her ability to memorize, even words she has no idea what they mean, is mesmerizing.
Interrupting any song with the words "wiener dog", laughing her little butt off, then saying, "Noooo! That's silly!"

droid blogging

We have been without a proper computer for nearly three weeks now, and I just figured out there is an app for my phone to blog. So, this is my attempt to blog on my droid.
Today, I am grateful that our new computer has arrived. :)

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Oh, October . . .

. . . where have you gone?
The last few weeks have been full, and not in a particularly awesome way. Landon has been working a lot. That happens. We finally decided to take away Marissa's pacifier. That was decidedly the opposite of fun. Then our computer died just in time for Christmas shopping to happen. Stupid computer.
So onto things to be grateful for.
1) I am grateful that I have been disciplined in saving money. That makes the stress of having to buy a new computer right now much smaller.
2) I am grateful that soccer practices are finished for the year. Yes, I would like those two nights a week back, thank you very much!
3) I am grateful we are through the worst of Rissa's post-pacifier weaning issues. She was extra crazy from sleep-deprivation last week, so I was spending a lot of my time putting out her little tiny fires.
4) I am grateful, in spite of missing my husband, for his job and that he is in demand at said job. Nothing like job security in our current world economic climate.
5) I am grateful for my mother-in-law, who is always happy to lend me a hand with the kiddos when Landon is working so much. Seriously, I really lucked out when I got her for my second mom. Are you jealous? You should be.
6) I am grateful for my droid. It is a really fantastic thing to have, particularly when your computer dies.
7) I am grateful for the return of fall.

And now, a letter to Autumn:

Dear Autumn,
Oh, how I have missed you, with your wonderfully crisp, cool weather, beginnings of the holiday season and the best excuse ever for my favoritest baked goods. Please never leave me ever again.
Love,
Me

To My Daughter

Dear Marissa,
Once upon a time, I was young like you. I had three older sisters and one younger sister, and at some point, I decided they were all much prettier than I. You see, I don't really remember when I decided that I was the "ugly one", but I can't remember not believing that, so I must have been quite young. There have been times throughout my life when I can recall looking in the mirror and feeling satisfied with what I saw, even a moment or two when I actually felt pretty, but mostly I've never much cared for my reflection -- my own face, my own body.
The first time I can really remember loving my body was right after I gave birth to your brother. I remember looking in the mirror at my new body, still misshapen after pregnancy, breasts full of the milk by body was making to meet your brother's specific needs, and feeling impressed and overwhelmingly grateful for my body and the miracles it had produced. I was amazed that my body had grown a tiny, perfect person and was now manufacturing the perfect food that little man needed to survive and even thrive.
Now, I am not so young. I still don't like looking at myself in the mirror, but I have mostly made peace with my appearance. I know that I have a strong body, a reliable body, and my face is pleasant enough. More importantly though, I know that my body is capable of great things. And even though I still usually feel like the ugly one when I am surrounded by my beautiful sisters, I know that my body produced two little perfect people, fed them, and cared for them with strength and tenderness.
It is my hope that you never struggle with the self-hate that I have dealt with most of my life. I look at your still very small body and just feel so grateful for how perfectly you are made. I think it weirds your dad out a bit, but I have such a great appreciation of each little part of your physical self, from your gap-tooth grin to your round booty to your stinky little feet. You are a beautiful little girl, and I hope that you always know that.
I love you.
Love,
Mom

Follow Up to the Sex Talk

Tonight, as I was cooking dinner, Mason and Marissa were playing outside, pretending to be frogs. I always enjoy listening to my kids interact with each other, but tonight was particularly entertaining. I hear Mason tell Marissa, "You wanna be a mom?"
To which, Marissa enthusiastically responds, "Uh-huh!"
"Okay, first we have to fight, then we can do the dance!" Mason explains.
"Okay!" Marissa agrees.
Then I hear them "fighting" soon followed by them repeating, "Dance! Dance! Dance!" together. Once they finish their dance, Mason tells Marissa, "Now we have to lay the eggs!"
Boy, was I laughing during this exchange. It really is the little moments that make me so grateful to be a mom!

The Most Awesome Sex Talk EVER!

Tonight, the issue of babies coming from eggs was brought up over dinner by my 5 year old. For whatever reason, it clicked in his mind that we eat eggs and that babies come from eggs. He suddenly became concerned about whether we were eating babies. I asked him if he had ever seen a baby chicken in his eggs when I cook them. He said no, so I explained that babies can't be in eggs if the daddy hasn't put his part in the egg yet. I was really hoping that would suffice, but it didn't.

"If the egg is the mommy part, what is the daddy part?" he wanted to know. So I told him that the daddy part is called sperm. It was almost painful to use that word with him because I could just picture him telling his little friends at school all about it.

"So how does the sperm get in the egg?" he asked, then almost immediately came up with an answer. "OH YAH! Is that when mammals do the special dance in the sea?"

"Um, what?" I responded.

"Do they do a special dance like sea horses?" he asked.

Relieved at being provided a good explanation that didn't require much detail, I said, "YES! They do a special dance like sea horses!"

"Did you and Dad do a special dance?"

"Uh, yeah. We did." I said hesitantly.

"Did you turn the same color?!?" Clearly, we've shown this kid too many nature documentaries . . .

"Um, no. We didn't turn the same color," I responded. "Different animals have different kinds of special dances. Sea horses have their own dance, monkeys have their own dance, and people have their own dance."

"Mom, can you teach me how to do the dance?" Crap. Crap. Crap.

"No, Mason. I can't teach you how to do the special dance."

"Why Mom?"

"Well, Mason. It's private," I try to explain, hoping that will suffice. Unfortunately, he is not familiar with the word "private" in any other context than . . .

"YOU USE YOUR PRIVATES?!" he asks incredulously. Awesome.

"Yes. Yes, you do." I respond, trying to sound very matter-of-fact.

"YOU DANCE NAKED?! GROSS!"

And that was the end of the most awesome sex talk ever.

Some Perspective

Maybe a month or two ago, I bought Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to read with Mason. It might have had something to do with the fact that one of his classmates is already reading the Harry Potter series on his own. Like devouring it. By himself. At five years old. Anyhow, since I have never actually read the book, but I love the movies, I decided it was a good place to begin Mason's foray into chapter books.
So, the movies show that Charlie Bucket and his family are poor, but it doesn't go anywhere near showing the depth of the stark, depressing poverty described in the book. There is a whole chapter, right before Charlie finds the ticket, that is all about how Charlie is slowly starving to death. It was pretty heavy for Mason to grasp, especially since he didn't even really know about the concept of poverty before we started reading this book. It was hard for me to read, and then explain the more difficult ideas, to Mason because it is just such a sad idea - er, rather, such a sad reality. Then I read this line, and it really touched me: ". . . and because we are all a great deal luckier than we realize, we usually get what we want - or near enough" (Dahl 38). [MLA, yo!]
How true is that? I mean, how many of us just fail to realize how truly lucky we are to have enough food to eat, or a home that protects us from the elements, or a jacket to wear when it's cold outside, or good books to entertain our minds? How many of us (myself especially included) only see the things we don't have, the things we'd like to get, the next thing we "need". Then when we get "it", whatever it may be, do we really take the chance to reflect on how lucky we are to have it?
I am grateful for my comfortable life, where all of my needs and nearly all of my wants are satisfied. I am grateful that I don't have to watch my child slowly grow thinner and thinner because I just can't afford to feed him enough to keep him healthy and strong. I am grateful for my husband who works hard to provide for us and take care of us. We truly are luckier than we realize.

good news

I am grateful today that our friend, Barb, is well. She had a large mass around her ovaries that was cause for serious concern. I am very pleased that the surgery to remove it went well, that the mass was found to be not cancerous, and that Barb and family are recovering well. Good news is always welcome around here.

Small Things

Today, I am grateful that I had the chance to have Marissa fall asleep in my arms. My not-so-cuddly girl has started resisting taking her naps, so I give her a choice after we read books to get into bed right away or have snugs. Today, she chose snugs, as has become her custom in the last few weeks. As she wiggled her way into my armpit and under the covers, I could tell she was very sleepy. I decided to see whether she could/would fall asleep in my arms rather than put her in bed after a few minutes like I normally do. She sucked on her paci and rubbed her bear's ribbon on her nose and fell right to sleep. Those fifteen minutes were like heaven, and I'm incredibly grateful she shared them with me.

mini vacation

We're leaving in about an hour and a half to go on a mini-vacation. Our dear friends, Gavin and Laura, are in Santa Barbara for a little over a week, and since they live in the UK, we decided we could do some traveling too and meet up with them down south. We love, love, LOVE Gavin and Laura, and don't get to see them anywhere close to often enough ('cause, you know, they live in the UK). I'm really excited for the opportunity to get to see them, for them to see our kids as it's been a couple of years and for our family to spend a long weekend in Santa Barbara.
Today, I am grateful that Landon's schedule presented an opportunity that worked within Gavin and Laura's time in the country. For a while there, things weren't looking too promising. Also, I am especially grateful that Landon's boss hooked us up big time with free accommodations in his family's beach house for the weekend (hooray!). Will be posting soon with some awesome pics of the kiddos at the beach (where Rissa has decided she will be catching a fish -- Me: "Rissa, we're going to the beach today!" Rissa: "The beach?! I'm gonna catch a FISH!").

Verbosity

I have come to realize that concise is not my style. When I started blogging, the idea was that I would write short entries with great regularity (like 3 or 4 times a week). Instead, I have found that I write needlessly long posts like once a week at best. I try to embrace these little quirks in my personality as I become aware of them because I really like liking myself, but I am learning that it is making it difficult for me to post regularly as I have other things to do than sit down and write for an hour every time I post. And here we are again, several sentences in still without getting to the point (GRATITUDE). In an effort to be less verbose and more concise, I am going to try for 10 sentence maximums in my posts, and post at least twice a week. Here we go (the previous sentences don't count, OKAY?):

I am thankful for the time I get to spend raising my kids because I get to hear and see the hilarious things they do on a daily basis. For example:

Today, Mason was trying to convince me that his soccer photos would be at the school where his games are. I told him that he was wrong, and reminded him that he doesn't know everything. Then he told me, "But I WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING." I told him that no one knows everything, and he replied, "I WILL."

Recently, Marissa has been fully committed to a love affair with her pull-toy frog, who was named "Harvey the cra-cra Frog" by Mason years ago. She wants to take it everywhere she goes, and I have decided that I don't really care if he does go to the store with us so long as she's happy (battle picking is an important thing for parents to learn). So, we ran errands this week with Harvey the cra-cra Frog in tow: to the pharmacy, to the grocery store, everywhere. I was worried people would think it was odd, but mostly everyone seemed to find it adorable. Because it was.

A (long-ish) Story About Mason

About this time last year, Mason started having these inexplicable rashes. Usually, they would happen after soccer practice, so I thought maybe he was having some sort of allergy to grass or perhaps to the chemicals used on the grass at the park where he practiced. They would usually go away on their own, so I didn't worry too much about it. But soon, he started having the rashes at other times, like after taking a warm bath or during a nap. I also noticed that the rashes were getting worse: affecting more of his body, lasting longer and occurring more frequently. Then one day, after he'd been at school for maybe an hour, I got a call from the school director saying he was completely covered in a rash and to come pick him up right away. When I got to the school, he had a rash covering almost his entire face, neck and trunk. I decided it was time to get him to the doctor.

By the time we were able to get an appointment 2 hours later, the rash was gone and there was no sign of it covering almost his whole body just hours before. I decided to see the doctor anyway to discuss the symptoms and to get a note saying it was okay for Mason to be back at school. The doctor agreed that it sounded like hives, which generally show up as an allergic reaction of some sort. He suggested we start giving him a daily dose of an over-the-counter antihistamine as a preventative measure. We started the medicine, and his rashes cleared up for the most part. He would still sometimes get the hives, but it they weren't real severe or widespread.

The doctor had suggested we try taking him off the anti-histamine after the seasons changed to see if it was an environmental allergy. Since it had been a while since Mason had experienced any rashes, I was really hoping it was an environmental allergy so he wouldn't have to take medication daily for an undetermined amount of time. Over his winter break from school, I took him off his antihistamine, but his rashes started right back up again. What was worse, once I started giving him the medicine again, it didn't seem to give as much relief as it had before. About a month later, we were having to give benadryl on top of the daily medicine so frequently that I decided it was time to see an allergist to figure something else out.

We finally got him into an allergist. I described his symptoms to the doctor, then the doctor took a tongue depressor and traced the letters "M-A-S-O-N" on Mason's arm. We kept talking for a few minutes about how Mason had responded to the OTC medication, why I thought it wasn't working as well any more and about Mason's medical history in general. Then about five minutes after "writing" Mason's name on his arm, the doctor pulled back Mason's sleeve to reveal that he had whelts which spelled out "MASON". The doctor told me it was the strongest reaction he had ever seen, then gave us a diagnosis: Dermatographia. He prescribed another antihistamine for Mason to take, and assured us it was a very manageable illness.

During this period of intermittent outbreaks of hives, Mason had begun to refuse to wear underwear as it was a frequent inducer of the rashes. In fact, at several different times, he had scratched himself to the point of breaking the skin where his underwear would rub against his skin (at the waist and leg openings). When the allergist finally told us what was wrong, he said, "That is why his underwear is bothering him so much -- his skin is treating underwear like an allergen. It must be very uncomfortable for him."

Mason said to the doctor, "It hurts when I wear underwear. Do I have to wear it?"

The doctor replied, "No, buddy. You don't have to wear underwear."

So now I have a kid who basically refuses to wear underwear. We have gone to pretty great lengths to provide the most comfortable underwear possible -- all cotton boxers with fabric completely covering the elastic waistband, which, by the way, are ridiculously hard to find in XS. What's more, he hasn't had any hives since he started his new medication nearly six months ago. Yet, the kid has decided that he hates underwear and just doesn't want to wear them. Any time I have pushed the issue, he has reminded me that the doctor said he doesn't have to wear any underwear.

I decided it's not that important since it's not like he's wearing dresses or something where someone could see his private business, and stopped fighting him on it. If underwear make him uncomfortable, I know plenty of grown ups who don't wear underwear either. No big deal. The problem is, it is a big deal to Landon. It became an even bigger deal a couple of weeks ago when Mason ripped a hole in the crotch of his pants, and we didn't realize until we were at Costco putting him into the cart when we got a clear shot of his junk. Nothing like flashing your five year old's penis all over Costco on a Sunday afternoon, right?

After our child's penis-flashing incident at the store, Landon and I started talking about whether or not we should require Mason to wear underwear. I told Landon that I encourage it, but that I ultimately let it be up to Mason. Landon told me that he thinks it shouldn't be optional because we ought to be teaching Mason about social norms. We decided to have a poll on Facebook with our friends and relatives to see what "social norms" are with underwear-wearing habits for five year olds. Once the results were in, nearly everyone who "voted" agreed with me that it's good to encourage the wearing of underwear, but forcing the issue is unnecessary. So, Landon conceded and I have continued on with encouraging but not requiring the wearing of underwear.

Today, when I picked Mason up from school, he had a hole in the crotch of the pants he was wearing (which were different pants than before, and were definitely hole-free when I took him to school this morning). His teacher noticed it when she was helping him into his carseat. I was rather embarrassed since I figured she probably got to see Mason's private business, and apologized profusely. She waved it off (because she has probably seen tons of junk in her years as a preschool teacher), and I headed home with the kids. I asked Mason, "How did you get that hole in the crotch of your pants?"

Mason responded, "I don't know."

I asked again, "Mason, what were you doing to rip a big hole in the crotch of your pants?"

Then Mason said, "I put the hole there for my penis could come out."

And that, my friends, is when I decided that forcing the kid to wear underwear might not be such a bad idea after all. ;)

On this day, 6 years ago . . .

. . . I made the best decision of my life and married this guy:


At the time, I loved him so much I thought I just might burst. Wanna know a secret? I love him more and more every day.

I'm grateful for my wonderful, amazing, intelligent, funny, sexy husband, and I look forward to a lifetime by his side.

And then it was August

It's been a hectic sort of summer. I was all ready to just sorta relax and do playdates with my sisters families (since their kids were out of school for the summer) and, you know, make pickles or whatever. It was supposed to be real summery and laid back. But it didn't happen. It was crazy and hectic and I was a total flake on my friend who suggested we have our boys be pen pals over the summer. And I HATE being a flake.

Anyhow, as summer is pretty much over (or since "summer" pretty much didn't happen), I'm going to take a deep breath and let go of the pent up stress I'm feeling. Breathe away the irritation at soccer taking over our lives for the next several months. Breathe away the tension of taking on a (very) part time job and all the messes that I haven't figured out how to make time to clean yet. Breathe away the annoyance at driving up and down the hill over and over so I can complete tasks that need completion. Breathe away the nervousness about having a teenager move in with us next week. Breathing it all out over here.

Gratitude is (at least is supposed to be) the theme up in this here blog, so let's find some gratitude.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to help my dad.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to make a little extra money while also helping my dad.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to help my nephew.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to get to know my nephew better.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to foster a closer relationship between my kids and their cousin.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to get Mason involved in sports.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to make new friends for myself and my family.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to spend time with my mom regularly.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to have assistance in making pickles (50 jars -- really Landon?)

I'm learning something about myself too. I have learned that I secretly harbor resentment towards obligations that I get myself into, even when I go into it totally willingly. What is that about?

Marissa-isms

When ever she is greeting someone, it's "Oh, hi!" like she wasn't expecting it but is pleasantly surprised to see you.

When she is particularly glad that you did something and/or gave her something, it's "Thank you SOOO MUCH!"

When she finds something appealing for any reason, its "That is so BE-AU-TI-FUL!"

And lately, my most favorite is when she is really happy about something you did, you also get a "I'm so PROUD of you!"

Melts my stinkin' heart every single day. I'm sure grateful to be her mom.

07/21/2000

On this day ten years ago, I had the worst day of my life. Acknowledging that it was the worst day of MY life always feels selfish and wrong because the events of this day, ten years ago, didn't directly affect me. Let me explain.

July 21, 2000 started in a most unwanted way -- with a phone call sometime after 2am. I answered, knowing a call at that time is rarely a good thing, and found it was my sister, frantic. "Chris (her fiance) is missing. He was supposed to be home around 11. He doesn't answer his phone. Something is wrong!"
"Meagan, don't drive. Tell me where you are. I will come and get you," I tell her because I can hear in her voice that she's totally emotionally out of control.
"I'm almost to your house. I'll be there in just a minute," she responds. I hang up and bring Landon up to speed. We are both groggy, but the seriousness of the situation is already clear to us both. Meagan and Chris were living at his home in Courtland, a small agricultural town south of Sacramento along the Sacramento River. The road to their home runs, for the most part, along the top of the levee.
"She thinks he's at the bottom of the river." I tell Landon even though she did not say that to me. In the back of my mind, I am worrying about that exact thing. "If he went into the river, it could be days before we know what has happened."
Meagan arrives and recounts the last several hours of her life. Chris had called a little after 10 to tell her he was on his way home. She waited up for him, but he never came. She kept trying to tell herself to just relax, he'd gotten caught up at work before. By 1am, however, she couldn't believe it any more. Meagan got into the car to go looking for him. She went by his brother's house hoping maybe a family problem had come up. His car wasn't there and the house was dark. She went by his parents' home -- no sign of Chris and everyone was clearly in bed there too. Finally, she went to the family's business. One of Chris' brothers was there. She told him what was happening, hoping he would know where Chris was. He didn't know, but he told her to go and try to calm down and rest. He would alert Trenton, Chris' brother who is the head of the family and try to figure out what had happened.
We tried to calm her, to reassure her we would figure out where Chris was, but I think all of us already knew something very bad had happened. Meagan shifted between being really quiet and crying heavily. At some point, Landon made us all pancakes. I don't think any of us ate much. By the time 7am rolled around, we still had no word on Chris. We knew that he wasn't at any of the area hospitals, and we knew that there were friends driving the river roads looking for signs of an accident. Landon decided he needed to go to work, and I called my boss and told him I wouldn't be there.
There was more waiting. We called our parents and told them what was going on. They asked us to keep them posted, and Meagan and I just waited. Sometime around 10 or 11, there was a knock at my door. I answered it and found Trenton and his wife there, their faces covered with grief. I knew what they were there to tell us immediately. They didn't have to say anything. I wanted to ask them to wait outside so I could tell Meagan myself, but I didn't. I invited them inside. I watched as Trenton failed to find words, then as Cyndi, his wife, told Meagan that they had found Chris. He was dead. Then I watched my poor sister collapse on the floor. Cyndi tried to catch her, but instead only helped her to the ground. Meagan was overcome, and her hysteria seemed to make Trenton very uncomfortable. Cyndi told us what they knew, and invited us to join the family at Chris' parents' home to wait for more information. Then they left.
I didn't know what to do. There was nothing I could do to make it better for my sister. In a single moment, the future she had been building fell apart. She was devastated, and I was helpless to do anything for her. I tried to hold her, I tried to find words to comfort her, I tried to do something to ease her pain. There was nothing.
There was a flurry of activity that day and in the days that followed, and honestly, I'm not totally sure what day the various things happened. At some point, the grief we all felt numbed us, which is probably how we were able to accomplish the many things that needed to be done.

At Chris' memorial service, everyone that spoke said the same thing: Chris was their best friend. His brothers, his friends. Everyone. He was an amazing guy. Chris was funny but sincere. Chris was hard-working but laid back. Chris was a guy's guy but sensitive. Chris was everyone's favorite relative and everyone's best friend, loved by everyone who knew him. It was heart-breaking to see so many people truly feeling a huge hole in their lives from Chris' absence.

Today, I honor Chris' memory. I feel privileged to have known him. I think of him often, and miss him still. I am grateful that my family and I were blessed enough to have had him in our lives, even if only for a few, short years.

good friends

Today, I feel really grateful for the opportunity to spend time with my friends. I am not the kind of person with a ton of acquaintances. . . instead, I have a small handful of really great friends. They are people who know that I'm not always good at calling, that I get overwhelmed by life and then realize three months later that I have not seen or talked to anyone besides my family for way too long. They know that I try to be a good friend, but that I can be totally clueless and sometimes tactless too. They know the "real" me, and love me anyway. Who could want anything more than that?
Thanks for coming to visit me, Lara. I'm always grateful that I count you as my friend, but I am particularly pleased when we get to spend time together. It doesn't happen as much as I would like, but I'm so glad when it does. I miss you already and can't wait to see you again soon!!

Fireworks and the 4th of July

Mason likes fireworks. I mean, duh. What kid doesn't like fireworks, right? Anyway, Mason was really pumped about the fireworks show we saw on the 3rd of July, and was eager to see more as soon as possible. Since we had two very full days on the 2nd and 3rd of July, I wasn't particularly interested in doing anything on the 4th proper, but I thought the time was right to have some fireworks at home with The Dude. So, after a very lazy day, Mason finally got me off my butt in the late afternoon of the 4th to purchase some fireworks. We bought an assortment suggested by the fireworks stand employees, got a pretty awesome deal (NOTE: purchasing fireworks at 6pm on the 4th of July = good idea if you want to negotiate prices), and took them home. I promised Mason we would set them off when it got dark, but The Dude was certain I was going to do it without him. While I was making dinner, which involved grilling outside, he kept checking to make sure that I wasn't secretly setting off the fireworks by myself.

Anyhow, I spent a good ten minutes that evening explaining to Mason that the fireworks we had purchased weren't like the ones at the professional show we had seen the night before. He wanted to know why we couldn't have the kind of fireworks that explode high in the sky, and I explained that they were both illegal and incredibly expensive. After explaining what "illegal" and "expensive" meant, he seemed satisfied. I wanted him to be excited and satisfied with the fireworks I had procured even though they weren't like what he has come to expect.

It finally got dark enough for us to set off the fireworks, and so Landon, Mason and I went outside to enjoy our stash. After we had finished with ours, our neighbors started lighting the big fireworks I had told Mason people like us couldn't buy. The two of us watched and cheered as the fireworks shot up into the sky and exploded loudly. After a couple of minutes, Mason declared, "It looks like someone has some money!"

So true, Mason. So true.

Father's Day, Part II: My Husband

This is my husband, Landon. He doesn't normally look so, um, awesome. Every couple of months, he decides to shave off his goatee. He does it in stages, experimenting with weird facial hair configurations that a trial lawyer such as himself wouldn't normally be able to wear. During the various stages, he likes to change clothes, props, etc and makes me takes pictures of himself acting as he thinks the current facial hair dictates. This mustache always makes an appearance during these shaving sessions, and it usually makes him want to rock.

Landon makes me (and himself) laugh. A lot. We have tons of fun together doing things as simple as shaving off his goatee. Back in our college days when we had even less money than we do now, we used to have "dates" that involved crossing the street to the local drug store and/or grocery store and trying to find the weirdest product we could find. We discovered such gems as "cock flavored soup" and "smack ramen". Then we'd buy some hot wok, rent a video and just hang out together. It was awesome every time. We laughed and talked trash and just enjoyed being together. Is it any wonder that I wanted to have babies with a guy like that? The discoverer of cock flavored soup surely would make an excellent father!

But seriously, why did I want to make babies with this guy? It all goes back (again) to our college days. When Landon and I started dating, I was still living at home with my parents. My parents' home has always been our family's gathering place, somewhere to have a good meal, let the kids play with each other, and enjoy the company. When ever there were children around when Landon was there, he was out playing with the kids. He'd wrestle all of them at once on the trampoline, throw them in the air while we were swimming, help them "walk" on the ceiling, smell their feet and otherwise make sure the kids were all having a great time. All of my neices and nephews love Landon. In fact, my brother Brandon was so excited when Landon and I had our first child because he finally had the chance to be someone's favorite uncle (as Landon is pretty much everyone's favorite). Throughout our six year courtship, when ever I was upset or frustrated with Landon, I'd make him go out to my parents' house. I'd spend an hour or so watching him with the kids, and it would always help me remember why he was the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.

And so it continues today. I watch Landon with our babies and I remember why I fell in love with him so many years ago. He is the best dad I know. Everything in his life is about his family. The man recently broke his leg playing hide and seek with his children, for pete's sake! I know that marrying Landon and having children with him was the best choice I have ever made in my life. I feel so incredibly lucky to have him as the father of my kids, and I am truly grateful for the amazing father he is to our children every day of my life.

Mason says . . .

Mason: "Mama, my tummy hurts. I ate too much food at the restaurant."
Me: "My tummy hurts too, Buddy."
Mason: "Why?"
Me: "I don't know why, Buddy. I have heartburn."
Mason starts blowing hard, then says: "Do you like that I'm blowing on your heart, Mom?"
Me: "Yes, Buddy. It feels much better now."

And I wasn't even lying. I love that kid.

Sad News

This morning I got some sad news. My dad's dear friend, Ralph Brown, was killed yesterday. He was helping a friend, and there was an accident. It seems, at least, that he didn't suffer, which is always something for which to be grateful.
Ralph was a good man. He worked very hard, was generous in helping others (he even bailed Landon and I out one time when we accidentally ran out of gas on our way to my parents' house), and was incredibly funny. He was a good friend to my father, which is why I'll always remember him fondly.
My favorite Ralph story. . . Ralph was a mechanic extraordinaire, and certainly looked the part. He had rough hands, always seemed to have some grease on his hands and clothes (or maybe that's just because when ever I saw him, he was helping my dad fix something), etc. Ralph was also missing a few teeth, which he pulled out himself as he was averse to paying the dentist to do so. One day, Ralph was helping my dad disassemble a large metal building my dad had purchased to house his many tractors. They had hired a couple of other men to help because it was a large task. One of these other men was not particularly smart, and he asked Ralph what he did for a living. Ralph told him he was a gynecologist. The not-so-bright worker believed him, so Ralph kept that story line going. I can't even imagine showing up to meet my new ob/gyn and finding Ralph there ready to perform the pelvic exam. It still makes me laugh.
I am grateful to have known Ralph before he passed and grateful for his friendship with my father. You will be missed, Ralph.

Father's Day... a little late

Father's Day came and went over the weekend, and even though it was my intention to write a post about the fathers in my life, I didn't. That's how life goes sometimes, right?

Part I: My Dad

My dad is truly amazing. His own father took off either before my dad was born or soon thereafter (I can't remember that specific detail), and his mom wasn't winning any parenting awards. His early years were riddled with abusive step-fathers and/or live-in boyfriends who would come and go like the seasons. Before my dad hit puberty, his own mother deserted him to chase after some man, who, like the others, was just a memory soon enough. After his mom walked out, my dad lived with his maternal grandmother until she died when he was 16. After that, one of his aunts took over his care. While my dad was fortunate enough to have a grandma, an aunt and several men in his community who took him under their wing, he had been abused, beaten down and abandoned by the people who were supposed to take care of him. He never had a good example of parenting, much less of being a decent human being, until he was a preteen.
Yet, my dad has always worked hard to do the right thing. Despite never being very book smart, my dad went to college and earned a degree. Despite growing up on food stamps in stark poverty, he worked hard his entire life and provided extremely well for his family. Despite the lack of a strong male influence at home, he grew up to be a man -- one who never shirked responsibility or hard work. He is the very definition of a self-made man; he came from nothing to be a successful business man an entreprenuer, a loving husband and devoted father.
Like any parent, my father made mistakes with us kids. He was hard on us, especially my older brothers and sisters. His job as a traveling salesman meant that we didn't see him much during the week. He has always been quick with criticism and slow with praise. But, we always knew we were loved. We always knew we would be taken care of. We never went without. And, I think most indicative of what an amazing man my dad is, we all have tremendous respect and love for our dad.
Thanks, Dad, for being a good example to me. Thank you for loving me and for seeing my talents and strengths in me when I couldn't. Thank you for wanting more for your family than you had been given. And thank you for the way you choose to live with gratitude in your heart.
I love you.

For These Moments

I'm grateful for moments like this:and this:
because they remind me how lucky I am to be a mom.

I am grateful for the opportunity to go places like this:

with this guy:
because few people have the chance to see and experience the world with such a fantastic partner.

Life is good. I am blessed.

complementary

I like to think that I'm a well-rounded person with many talents. I'm reasonably intelligent and I do quite a few things pretty darn well. But, like anyone, there are plenty of things that I'm just no good at. Do you want some examples? Here goes:
I lack self-control, or, in other words, I'm totally impulsive. This applies to food, shopping, and pretty much anything else you can think of. I have to completely cut myself off from temptation because otherwise, I'll end up eating a whole bag of candy or drinking all the soda in the fridge in one day.
The filter most people have that sorts out the thoughts that are not appropriate to put into actual verbiage is mostly absent in my mind. I'm really good at saying totally inappropriate, insensitive, and/or private things at all times, and I usually don't even realize that it wasn't okay for me to say it.
I am not so great at following things through to completion. At any time, I'll have between three and ten projects I am "working on" in various stages of completion. It is unusual for said projects to ever be as finished as I intended them to be when I started them.
And that's it. Those are the only three weaknesses I have. Everything else in the entire world, I am really quite good at. For realz. *wink* Anyhow, the point of this post isn't for me to bag on myself (though I am quite good at that), but to talk about something for which I am grateful... today, that happens to be: the way Landon's strengths complement my own, and vice versa.
I picked those three particular weaknesses highlighted above because those are three areas in which Landon is strong. He has stellar self-control, is impeccably tactful and sensitive, and never leaves something unfinished. Like myself, Landon is a very well-rounded person with many talents and strengths, yet somehow, there is little overlap in our weaknesses. We are fantastically complementary, and I think that strengthens our relationship. I know I can rely on Landon to be strong where I am weak, and I know that I can be of assistance to him when he is facing his own limitations. We work together to fill in the gaps, and that is totally okay. In fact, it's great to know that I have that ace in the hole when ever I need it!
So today I am grateful that Landon is my complementary counterpart who strengthens me and makes me a better woman.

Seen and Heard: Mason Edition

Heard
Me: "Mason, how are you feeling this afternoon?"
Mason: "Well, my hands are hot."
Me: "Why are your hands hot?"
Mason: "My hands are hot from working so hard at school today. They were, like, on fire."

Seen and Heard
Mason was sooooo excited about the dustbuster I got for my birthday, he was rather eager to get a chance to use it. When I forgot to charge it while he was at school, I didn't hear the end of it. "Mom, it's not fair that you didn't charge the battery while I was at school! You said I could use my new vacuum!"
Then after it had a couple of hours to charge, he eagerly sang it's praises to his dad on the phone. "It's a good sucker, Dad. And Rissa and I can use it!"
If I had known how easy it would be to convince him to do the vacuuming, I would have bought a dustbuster years ago!

Heard (as told by Landon)
Landon: "Mason, what did you do at school today?"
Mason: "I don't remember."
Landon: "You don't remember?"
Mason: "Oh. I remember now. I focused and concentrated on my work and picked challenging jobs and only worried about my work and not about what the other children were doing."

Heard
He's been using the terms "fair" and "not fair" a lot lately, although he seems to understand "fair" to mean anything that is favorable to him. Example: I was divvying up a box of raspberries for Mason and Marissa to share. He was very concerned that I wouldn't be "fair". When I was finished, I showed him the two bowls and asked if they seemed okay. He said, "Yes, but you could be fair to me and give me more berries." When I tried to explain that if I gave him more than I gave Rissa, it wouldn't be fair to her, his face went blank.

Seen and Heard
As we were gone for 2 weeks and I have been playing catch up since then, our yard has been ignored for the better part of 3 weeks now. There are some tall weeds in the lawn. Mason declared them "tickle sticks", picked one and chased his sister all over tickling her. Listening to him declare, "Watch out for the tickle stick, Rissa!" and then hearing both my kids scream with delight and laughter together is probably my favorite sound in all the world.


I sure love that kid. He makes me smile and laugh, and he's an incredibly good boy. He is eager to please me and his dad, he is a conscientious caretaker of his sister, and he really loves having fun. I've said it before, but I am so grateful Mason came to live at my house!

Yikes!

Sometimes, it's April. You're having allergies. You're a little stressed about finances and taxes. You're trying to get loose ends tied up so you can take a two week trip without your kids. Et cetera. Then all of a sudden, it's June and you haven't blogged in two months. Yikes!
That's what feels like happened, anyway.
Much has happened in that two month accidental hiatus, but I'm not going to cover all of it. I'm more interested in writing about what I'm grateful for today and pretending that I never skipped two months worth of posts.
Today, I am grateful to be reunited with my kids. Landon and I took a two week trip to the UK, which was super awesome and really fun. We had a blast traveling all over the country and seeing everything we could fit in (which ended up being a lot), but I missed my kids hard. I ached for my kids. I might have cried once or twice 'cause I missed those two people so much.
One day, in London, when I happened to be sitting near an adorable family with kids the same age as my kids, I was feeling real lonesome for my children. Landon, who is generally a very sensitive and sympathetic person, was feeling a little irritated with my inability to appreciate what is happening in the here and now. He told me that while I was missing my kids at that moment, it would only be a couple of weeks until I would again be feeling ready for a break from them. It was a good way to remind me that I was in LONDON, for pete's sake, so snap out of it and have a good time!
I am happy to report that Landon's predictions of frustration with my kids hasn't happened yet. I haven't felt annoyed when Mason has come into our room at 6 am for snugs and conversation. I haven't felt overwhelmed with frustration with Marissa's refusal to lie still so I can change her diaper. I'm still just so pleased to have them near me again that dealing with the day to day annoyances of raising children seems easy and totally manageable. Being able to kiss on them and snug them when ever I feel like it makes all the difficult stuff totally worthwhile and seems more than fair compensation for my efforts. Having Marissa declare, "I love you Mama!" or Mason snuggle in close reminds me how incredibly lucky I am to be their mom, and missing those simple moments for 12 days was an excellent way to gain perspective on how to deal with the frustrating moments that inevitably will come.














After all, who can stay frustrated with someone as adorable and wonderful as these two cuties??

I love you Mason and Marissa! I'm so glad I get to be your mom!!

Potty Training

**WARNING** This note is about poop.

I've been trying to get my 2.5 year old daughter interested in potty training because I am over changing diapers. I know she can tell when she has to poop because she goes and hides where she can't see me before she handles her business. There are other "signs" of readiness, and since I'm so ready, it's something we're working on together.

I have heard from various sources and seen from my own experience that a good way to get the potty training started involves letting your kid run around naked. The idea is the lack of a convenient place to absorb/hold their potty business when they go makes them more aware of the urge to pee/poop and connects it to the actual pee/poop that exits their body. Plus, who wants pee/poop on their legs/feet?

Anyhow, I started letting Marissa run around naked in the mornings when we are home together without distractions. Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to care at all when she pees/poops sans diaper. Most of the time, the only reason I even know she has "gone" is because I check on her so regularly. The worst part is she is really interested in poop, particularly in turning it into a crayon and using it to draw on whatever is around her. In true "MacGruber" fashion, we have dubbed her "Poopcasso".

Since we had a pretty low key morning planned and since Marissa expressed interest in using the potty this morning, I decided to have a diaper-free morning. We were doing okay... an hour and a half with no accidents. I probably should have gone and sat her on the potty, but I got a phone call from my sister and got distracted instead. I realized that Marissa had gone into the other room and gotten quiet. I ran in to discover her about to go all artsy with some fresh poop. I excused myself from the call and got everything/everyone cleaned up.

After everything was hygienic in my house again, Marissa and I sat down to talk about the right place to put our poop. I told her, "Rissa, poop is yucky, yucky! We don't touch our poop. We don't put it on the ground. We put our poop into the potty!" Then I ask her, "Rissa, where do we put our poop?"

She says, "ON THE GROUND!" I have to stifle my laughter, 'cause I'm mature like that.

Then I say, "No! We don't put poop on the ground. We put poop in the POTTY!" Again, I ask, "Where do we put our poop?"

Again, she enthusiastically declares, "ON THE GROUND!"

Unfortunately, I was unable to stifle the giggles that time. We have the exact same exchange two or three more times, so I decide I need to switch it up. So, I say, "Rissa, the potty is for poop," then ask, "What do we put in the potty?"

"We put yucky yucky stuff in the potty!" she replies.

I am encouraged by this response and add, "Yah! Yucky stuff like poop goes in the potty!" We have this exchange a couple of more times, then I decide to try the first question again.

I say, "Rissa, where do we put our poop?"

What does she say? That's right! "ON THE GROUND!"

I am so encouraged.

looking for it

It's been a rough few weeks. We had the car break down. Mason had strep. I had a stomach flu. Then I had a stomach flu again. Then Rissa got the stomach flu and puked all over herself and her crib. It's just been a rough time. During this rough time, there has been a spark of awesomeness: Marissa's recognition of her own fatigue and her desire to go to bed when she is tired.
Any mother who has ever had a toddler knows how rare and therefore how totally rad it is when your toddler not only makes it a breeze to put him/her down for a nap, but also actually requests naps as soon as s/he feels a little tired. I cannot tell you how many times that girl has come up to me and asked for a nap, much to my great relief. This week, probably because she was feeling craptacular, she was asking for and then taking two naps a day. And that alone has made a huge difference in how this rough spot has played out.
I'm so grateful that Marissa takes after her mama in the sleep department. I'm grateful for the excellent sleep training advice I found in Marc Weissbluth's Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, and for our fantastic pediatrician who recommended it to me way back when Mason was a baby. Finally, I'm especially grateful that Marissa came to live at my house. She's really great!

The Men Who Love Me, Part 2

So last week was HIGH FIVES for my dad. He's great. I'm incredibly lucky to have him for a dad. This week, however, we're back to HIGH FIVES for Lando, my wonderful, amazing, thoughtful, loving husband.
Monday, I felt like pooh. The best word I can conjure to describe how I felt was malaise. I was achy. I had a head ache. My tummy felt unsettled. I didn't feel sick per se, but I didn't feel right either. Tuesday, however, I woke up with a full blown stomach flu. I had some tea and graham crackers for breakfast, hoping that would settle things down a bit. Instead, it all came rushing back out. I made it through the morning by watching some kiddie shows with Marissa on the couch, then went ahead and took a nap when Marissa took hers. We woke up in time for me to throw up again before I needed to go get Mason. When we all got back home, I was dizzy and just felt awful, so I decided it was time to see if Lando could come home early from work. I called, not feeling particularly hopeful that he'd be able to skip out early, but he surprised me and said he could. He got home pretty quickly, sent me to bed and started playing with the kiddos. I spent the rest of the afternoon/evening sleeping and throwing up while Landon handled all the kid stuff. After the kids were tucked in, Landon decided to do the grocery shopping (which had been put off for nearly two weeks as Mason was home most of last week with strep throat). When he got home, he came upstairs to check on and comfort me before I went to bed for the night.
The kids woke us up bright and early this morning, but Landon got up with them and let me sleep until he needed to leave to take Mason to school and go to work himself. When I came downstairs, Mason showed me what Dad had done after I went to bed the night before. He had chopped fruit, vegetables and cheese for easy snacks to feed the kids. He cooked pasta and put them into individual sized containers for meals for the kids. He made smoothies for breakfast, freezing the extra for later. He basically did everything he could to make my day easier since he couldn't be home again to let me sleep all afternoon. He had also stocked the house with lots of stomach flu friendly items for me to eat in an effort to get back to normal. Then before he left for work, he promised he'd come home as early as he could.
So, in short, the man did everything in his power to take care of me as best as he could even in his absence. Why? He wants me to be okay. He wants to make sure all my needs are met. He wants me to be comfortable and happy. Because he loves me.
Boy was I ever lucky the day I convinced Landon to marry me. I am so grateful that I get to be that man's wife!
Post Script: As I sit here at the computer, I hear Landon downstairs doing the dishes. Wow. I love that man so much. I don't think I deserve him, but I am sure grateful he's mine!

The Men Who Love Me, Part 1

Half of this post is like a week late, but between Mason having strep throat, Landon having an intestinal bug which he then passed onto me, not much has been accomplished in the last week (although I did manage to strip beds and disinfect much of the house between Landon getting better and me getting sick). Anyhow. Better late than never. Gratitude is patient, right?
So, last Monday, Landon was on day 2 of a massive hangover. He decided to come home for lunch to eat something really basic and hopefully catch a quick nap. After accomplishing both of those modest lunch-time goals, he climbed into his car to head back to work. Only, his car wouldn't start. Landon came back inside, declared the battery dead, and asked me what we should do about it. I went out, also attempted to start the car ('cause I have magic car starting powers or something), but was met with the same fate as my husband. We remembered we had some jumper cables from an old "roadside emergency" kit my parents gave us years ago. Landon and I pushed the car out of the garage and parked it on the road (facing the wrong way -- silly us) and attempted to jump-start the car. It didn't work. Landon went in and looked up jump-starting on the interwebs to make sure we were doing it right, found some helpful advice, and we tried again. Again, it didn't work. At this point, though, it was time to pick up Mason and Landon needed to get back to work. So we picked up the boy and dropped Landon off at his office, and I went back and worked on the car some more with some advice from my dad and auto mechanic brother-in-law. Still, my jump-starting efforts were unsuccessful.
At that point, my BIL the mechanic was thinking that after three unsuccessful jump-starting attempts, perhaps it wasn't a dead battery. He said we needed to get it to a shop, preferably his. So, I spent much of the afternoon trying to figure out how to accomplish just that. After spending way too long on the phone with our insurance company, we found out our roadside towing coverage only covers a tow to shops contracted with the insurance company. If we want to use our own shop (which, duh, we do), it covers all of $50 of the towing expense. That wasn't gonna get us to my BIL's shop. Not even close. Feeling frustrated and overwhelmed, I decided to give up for the day and worry about it in the morning. After getting Mason to school and Landon to work in the morning, I met up with my mom for some shopping. I told her of my ordeal the day before, and she told me to ask Dad to come and tow the car for us on his trailer. When I got home from shopping and lunch with Mom, I gave Dad a call to ask for his help.
When I got a hold of my dad, which in itself is no small feat, he informed me that he had lent his trailer to a friend and wasn't sure how we'd get the car on the trailer anyway. I informed him that I was a total bad ass, but he still wasn't convinced. He said he'd think about it and call me back. Maybe ten minutes later, he called and said he was going to go pick up a battery, bring it down and see if he could get the car going enough to get it up to my BIL. Keep in mind, my dad lives an hour away if you come straight to my house from his. Since he stopped at my BIL's shop to get the new battery James had already got me, it actually took him closer to an hour and a half. So my dad arrived a couple of hours later with a new battery and some equipment to test whether the alternator was working. He switched out the batteries, made sure the alternator was getting power to the battery, and VOILA! we had a working car.
I am so grateful for my dad, who loves me enough to go pick up a new battery for my car, drive it all the way to my house and swap out the old one (maybe 10 minutes of work for a 2.5 hour roundtrip drive). I am blessed to have him in my life. He's a wonderful man, and I love him so, so much!

Marissa is Hilarious

I'm going to steal an idea from my friend Megan's blog... She calls it "Seen and Heard". It's a way to record some of the adorable/weird/funny things your kids do and say. No, it's not about gratitude per se, but I can say that it's moments like these that make me feel most grateful that I get to stay at home to raise my kids.

Seen and Heard:
Marissa comes into the office where I am on the computer. She has the box of Qtips in her hands, then I notice she has one in each ear. She says, "Look it Mom! I flying!!" and then moves her head from side to side as though it were an airplane gliding through the sky.

Heard:
Marissa repeating over and over and over the word, "whine" in her whiniest voice. "Whine, whine, whine!" This simultaneously annoys me and cracks me up.

Heard:
Marissa yelling downstairs, "Geo-orge! Geo-orge! Where are you?" I assume she was looking for the curious monkey and not her grandpa.

Heard:
Marissa whining her way up the stairs (this time with the more conventional whining technique, not the repeating of the word "whine"). When she gets to the top of the stairs, she stops whining, says, "Where's Mom?" and starts searching for me. There is not another sound out of her her, whine or otherwise, until she sees my face. Immediately, she starts "crying" and throws herself dramatically into my lap.

Seen and Heard:
Marissa throwing herself onto the ground dramatically. "MOM! I fell down. I stuck!" She neither fell down nor is stuck.

Seen and Heard:
Marissa making silly faces at her reflection in the window at Togo's as we eat. She giggles uncontrollably until she can make another face. She then looks at me and says, "Mama! I so funny!" and makes another silly face at herself. I ask, "Are you so funny, Rissa?" Marissa says, "Uh huh! I so funny. And weird!"

I think Marissa might be our little actress. She certainly has a flair for the dramatic, but for now, she's mostly just cracking me up. Thank goodness that little girl came to live at my house.

My Family Rocks

I was blessed to be born into a large family. Being the sixth of seven kids definitely had it's share of problems growing up (i.e. being left behind at church more than once because one of your siblings is mad at you and assures Mom that you went home with your older sister in her car). There was always a lack of personal space and privacy and the ability to keep something secret, and there was almost always at least one person with whom you were upset or who was upset with you. However, there were lots of benefits of being part of a large family. There were always playmates. There was always a bigger person around to help you, comfort you, etc (at least when you're among the youngest). There was always someone to defend and stand up for you when you're facing adversity (even if the same person who is now defending you punched you the night before). I loved growing up in a big family, and my large family continues to bless my life even now.

Case in point:
My sister's husband is a mechanic (as I have mentioned before). Since neither Landon nor I know much, if anything, about cars, we feel incredibly fortunate to have someone we know we can trust to work on our cars. Landon asked me earlier this week to take his car up to James (our BIL) for an oil change. Right before I left yesterday, Landon mentioned that his "Maint Required" light was on. I noticed that his mileage was just over 60,000, and decided the light was to probably to remind him to get the scheduled maintenance completed. Since this wasn't what I had originally scheduled, I called James to see if they'd be able to do the work that day, and if so, how long it would take. I was assured they could get it done and that they'd do it as quickly as possible.
Then my other sister arrived at the shop to pick me up and save me from having to hang out at the shop all day waiting for my car. She helped me switch over Marissa's carseat IN THE POURING RAIN. Then she took us back to her house, fed us breakfast, and entertained us all the morning long. When it was time to go get my car, my sister loaded up her kids again (in the rain) and took us back to the shop. She helped me switch over Marissa's carseat in the rain again. Then, get this, she thanks me for coming to spend time with her.
I went into the shop to pay for the maintenance on Landon's car, and my brother-in-law apologizes for the high estimate his employee gave me when I dropped the car off (it was too high?) and assured me that he charged me way less. I assured him I would be totally happy to pay what other customers pay, which is already incredibly reasonable. Isn't it enough that I know I can trust that he's looking out for me and my family every time I bring our cars to him? He laughed a little, and then still gave me a 20% discount on parts and labor (basically cutting my price to barely cover his own costs). Then he invited my family over to play at his house over the weekend.

I am grateful every day for my family. I'm grateful that there are so many people who love me and are looking out for me. I'm grateful for the many things they do for me to make my life better, easier, more joyful. And even though I often wonder what the heck my mom was thinking when she kept having all those babies (7 babies is a whole lot of babies!), I'm sure grateful she did.

mish-mash

As Landon so kindly pointed out via Facebook, my blog is feeling a little unloved. Whenever I have a period like this where no blogging happens, I generally don't have a great reason for it. Sometimes, I just don't feel compelled to blog. I guess that's why I've never been the best at keeping a journal regularly. I'm just hit or miss, and lately, there's just been a lot more miss than hit . . . Anyhow, I'm writing today for the sake of getting something down, not necessarily because I felt overwhelmed with gratitude and/or frustration, which are generally the two things that get me writing. As such, today is going to cover a bunch of small things that for which I have been grateful recently.

Thing 1: Mason is an amazing kid (I'm nothing if not redundant, I know).
On Monday, I was on day 4 of an upset stomach (11 years post-diagnosis, I'm still not great at eating with my lactose intolerance in mind). After I picked Mason up from school, I laid down on the couch. Mason took it upon himself to make a snack for himself and Marissa. The two of them ate happily together as I moaned to myself into the couch cushions. Mason finished his snack and came to check on me. As I was laying on my face, he came and rubbed his little hand on my back and asked if I was okay. I assured him I would be fine and told him my tummy was hurting. Mason offered to fetch me some medicine to help me feel better. I declined, thanking him for being so thoughtful, and sat there feeling so proud and grateful for this amazing little man. Then, the dude picked up a dirty diaper I had taken off of Rissa earlier but hadn't gotten around to throwing away, took it outside to the diaper champ and disposed of it properly. He came back in and picked up some video game junk that was on the floor and put it away. Again, I thanked him for his help, and he happily returned to playing with his sister. I just watched him in amazement, overwhelmed by how thoughtful, kind, loving my little man is. I really lucked out the day that kid came to live with me.

Thing 2: Holy crap, my mother-in-law is super freaking awesome!
My in-laws are fantastic generally, but in particular, my mother-in-law rocks. I don't think it's possible for me to deserve such an amazing person in my life, but I'm sure glad I have her. This weekend, she offered to keep our kids the whole weekend. Like, I dropped them off Friday afternoon and didn't pick them up until late Sunday afternoon. The whole, entire weekend. My kids were so happy to be there and had so much fun that neither of them could be bothered to talk to me for more than 60 seconds when I called to check in on them. Landon and I got to rest and sleep in and take it easy the whole weekend, which any parent will tell you is like the best thing you could ever hope to happen, but when we showed up to get the kids, it got better. Upon our arrival, Kelly was taking my favorite cookies out of the oven for us to take home. Then she tells me that she washed all the kids clothes. Then, get this, SHE thanks ME for letting her have the kids. Sometimes, when I am frustrated with my husband, I remind myself that Kelly is part of that package, and it makes it a little easier to get over whatever happens to be bugging me that day. I am so incredibly lucky that Kelly is my mother-in-law. And because I'm actually a selfish and bad person, I secretly hope I never have to share her with anyone else. I'm so glad that my brother-in-law is a bachelor and has no children because my family gets to have all of Kelly's love and affection. So lucky are we!

Thing 3: Marissa has become quite the cuddle bug, and I LOVE it!
I know I've talked about this before, but Marissa isn't as affectionate as her brother. I don't know if that's just how she is or if it's because I couldn't co-sleep with her like I did her brother or what. She's just not as snuggly, and that's fine. However, recently she's decided she needs snugs with Mom first thing in the morning. I love snugs in the morning! Landon goes and brings her to me, she nuzzles into my armpit and we snug for as long as I have time to before I have to get Mason ready for school. It's been awesome to get this affection from my little girl, and it's starting to spill over to other parts of the day. Like, if I go and lay down on the couch when she's watching her show, she is thrilled to snuggle into me for the duration. In fact, the other day when I was feeling sick, she happily snuggled me while she watched movies and shows most of the day. It was like heaven, having her happy to be with me, sitting still and staying out of trouble. Believe me, I'm taking advantage of this cuddly period because, with Marissa, who knows how long it will last. I am so grateful to have the opportunity to love on my baby girl for the first time since she was tiny!!

off topic rant -- please avoid

So here's the deal. I'm not religious. I choose this because the more I learned about religion, the more I saw how they were all the same. The differences are in small details, and I just have a really hard time believing that God is as concerned with these technicalities as we are. Essentially, I decided that the truth lies in what we can all agree upon -- that is: be nice to other people, do your best always to do what you know to be right, golden rule sort of generalities. At the end of my life, if God really wanted me to know the secret handshake, skip birth control, wear special underwear or sacrifice my life to kill infidels, I am going to be surprised as all hell. I don't believe in hell. I don't believe in heaven. I don't believe that Jesus was literally the son of God, and I don't believe that Mohamed went on top of a mountain where he received the Koran. I believe in love and in the sanctity of life. And I believe in treating all people with dignity and respect even if I don't agree with or understand them. I think that is really what God wants.
I saw a bumper sticker a while back that said something along the lines of, "I don't have a problem with Jesus, it's his followers I can't stand." I chuckled. It was trite and juvenile (and really, why do we feel the need to advertise our personal beliefs in the form of oversimplified slogans on the back of our cars?), but I understood the point and agreed even a little. I've spent much of my adult life in total disbelief in the things people will do or say and attribute to their religious beliefs, especially when they seem in direct contradiction to said belief systems. I look at the world around me and see so much suffering and pain and death, all brought onto the world needlessly in the name of one religion or another. Frankly, it disgusts me.
When I was growing up, taking the Lord's name in vain was a pretty big deal around my house. A big no no. I remember talking to my mom at one point about what that meant. Obviously, she told me that included saying things like "Oh my God" and "God damn it." The one part of her explanation that really resonated with me, however, was when she tried to explain the idea of people dishonoring God's name by doing awful, unGodly things in the supposed name of God. She gave the example of the crusades and other religious persecution. That explanation blew my young mind, but clearly it resonated with me on some level. I find little in this world more revolting than doing something clearly so contradictory to the teachings of any religion in the name of God or religion.
For example. . . There's this church. It's a pretty infamous church at this point, even though it isn't the biggest or best funded organization. It's notoriety is due to the seething vitriol it's members spout at every opportunity at all sorts of people, but in particular homosexuals and the Jewish. They picket funerals, schools, churches, and temples with a disgusting message of hate, all in the supposed name of God and Jesus. Now, I know I'm not a Bible scholar, but I know there is a lot in there about loving thy neighbor and not casting stones. Somehow these better, more noble parts of the Bible are totally missed by this particular congregation who instead choose to focus on hate and hell fire and brimstone.
This church is bringing their disgusting message to my town. They're bringing it to public areas, schools and parks and places of worship, and it simultaneously makes me want to punch someone in the face and cry. One of the places they will be demonstrating is my friend's temple, right before their sabbath services. I felt compelled to warn my friend not to be there so she didn't expose her small children to these people's awful message of hate. But why is that okay? Why is it okay for them to say and do these things when it so clearly hurts other people and interferes with their lives? Why is that legal and totally acceptable? Furthermore, how can anyone believe, after reading Jesus' message of love and forgiveness and peace, that God is somehow concerned with the spreading of hate and bigotry and rage?
The part that I find most upsetting about all of this is not that one day I'll have to explain to my kids something that I find so inexplicable (though that is pretty upsetting)... it is that there is truly no hope of convincing these people that they are wrong. They KNOW they're right, and any resistance to their way of thinking can easily be identified (by them, of course) as work of the devil. There is no explaining to a crazy person that they're wrong, and that means we're always going to have crazy people screwing things up for everyone else. Murdering thousands of people for their god... oppressing people who disagree with them... and making the world a less safe, less beautiful place to live.
And that, I think, is truly taking the Lord's name in vain.

100th Entry

Many times throughout my life, I've attempted to keep a journal. I was raised in a religion that strongly encourages journaling, and I come from a family rich with recorded histories. For what ever reason, though, I've never been much of a journal keeper. I've just never been all that great at doing it regularly or for any sustained amount of time. So, I have to admit today that I'm pretty proud of myself for making it to this, my 100th blog entry. Hooray for me!
I started blogging with the intention of practicing gratitude. Over my now nearly 30 years on this earth, I have noticed that happy people are almost universally grateful people. They are people who choose to remember the blessings in their lives rather than dwell on the things that might not be so great. They are people who choose to see the obstacles as opportunities and the challenges as a chance to learn and grow. Since I am not crazy, I would really like to be one of those happy people, and furthermore, I want my kids to be happy too. So, I decided a couple of years ago that the time was right to become a happier, more grateful person. While learning gratitude and choosing happiness has not been the easiest thing for me to accomplish, I am proud of myself for my efforts. I can see the difference it has made and continues to make in my daily life, especially when it comes to my family. On this day, I have much for which to be grateful, but I am going to talk about only two of these things.

The first thing for which I am so deeply grateful is the health of my children. Unlike many people, Landon and I were not particularly concerned about the gender of our kids. I think we would have been equally pleased with two boys or two girls as we are with one of each. Our primary concern was that our kids be healthy. Landon, in particular, went to great lengths to ensure the health of our fetuses and later, our children. He fed me lots of vitamins including fish oil throughout my pregnancies, and decided we ought to switch to organic produce, meat and dairy once our kids were eating real food. We've both made a conscious decision to avoid feeding our kids fast food and junk and to teach them other healthy eating habits. We encourage our kids to be active (not that it takes much prodding). The health of our children is of vital importance to us both.
When Marissa was born, the hospital pediatrician who was checking on her while I recuperated from the c-section noticed she had a heart murmur. He talked to me about it, assured me it was common and that it would likely go away. I didn't worry too much about it, especially after our doctor never heard it or mentioned anything about it during her regular well-baby visits. Until a few months ago, I had assumed it had just gone away like the hospital pediatrician had said it would. On a trip to the doctor to check for an ear infection, our doctor asked me if anyone had told me that Marissa had a heart murmur. I told him yes, I had been told about the murmur at birth, and also told him that I assumed it had resolved itself. He assured me it was very slight and almost certainly an "innocent" or harmless murmur. Last week at Marissa's 2 year old check up, he heard the murmur again and said that it was more pronounced than he remembered it being before and recommended we get her an echocardiogram just to be certain that it wasn't something serious.
Now, I try real hard to not be one of those moms that freak out about everything. I was never the first time mom worrying over every little thing, and I am happy to allow my kids the space to figure out things on their own. However, being told that my child is being referred to a cardiologist is not at the top of my list of "Things I hope to hear". The doctor again told me that it was probably nothing, but that it couldn't hurt to have it checked out just in case. So I did my best to take the news in stride, made an appointment with the cardiologist and waited.
I called my best friend, Lara, who spent a couple of years in the cardiology department of Seattle Children's hospital, and asked how likely it was that the murmur was a symptom of something more serious. We talked about Marissa's growth, her activity level and other things that would be indicators of her having a heart problem. We also talked about why a murmur would sound louder one day than another and the percentage of kids with innocent murmurs. Lara told me that absent these other symptoms of a heart problem, she would be very, very surprised to find out that Marissa's murmur was anything serious. She also told me that she knows how scary it must be to have a child referred to a cardiologist and that it was normal and okay for me to be worried about it. My conversation with Lara lifted nearly all of the lingering concern I had about Marissa's heart and let me get on with normal life. And I remembered how lucky I am to have friends who love me and my family, and who want to make sure we're okay (both in body and in mind).
Today, we had Marissa's appointment with the cardiologist. She sat through her echocardiogram, barely noticing that she was being prodded with an ultrasound wand as she watched Sesame Street. Landon and I got to see some neat pictures of Marissa's heart beating, watching the blood get pumped through the chambers, some red, some blue. We finished with the ultrasound and waited only a few minutes for the doctor to go over the results with us. While the doctor examined Marissa and her bear (he was great with her), he told us she was perfectly healthy. He told me many of the same things Lara already had about murmurs, how common they are, and how it's really just a sound. He said we didn't need to come back to see him again because Marissa is very healthy.

After getting this clean bill of health for our baby girl, I am reminded just how blessed we are to have two perfectly healthy, wonderful children. Landon said, "The doctor probably likes getting to give that particular diagnosis. He must spend all day telling parents that their children have something wrong with their hearts, so it must be nice for him to get ones like Rissa's!" It's true. There are lots of sick kids, kids fighting for their lives, spending much of their time in and out of doctor's offices and hospitals trying desperately to get to what is normal for us -- health. I feel so blessed for the health of my kids and the peace of mind that brings me, as their parent.

The other thing for which I am feeling particularly grateful today is the sweet moments I get to share with my kids. The other night as Marissa and I washed the dishes, Mason came into the kitchen and said, "Look what I made for you Mom!"

When I saw that sweet note he wrote for Landon and I ("Mason loves Mom and Dad"), my heart just about melted. He was so proud of himself. I could tell my happiness made him feel even better about the note he had written all by himself. I immediately grabbed the camera to capture his sweet message and the pride he felt in doing something so grown up and so kind all by himself.
This evening, Mason was upset for one reason or another. He was crying, sitting in my lap when his sister came up with a look of tremendous empathy for her brother. I said to her, "Rissa, Mason is sad. Can you give him a hug to help him feel better?"
She said, "Bruver! What's a matter??" and gave him a pat on his head, with deep concern showing across her face. Then Mason reached to hug her, and my two sweet children hugged each other for comfort and love.
How blessed am I to have the opportunity to share in these moments with my children! How blessed am I to have these two people, full of kindness and empathy and love, living in my home! I am truly grateful that I get to raise these children, to help teach them and shape them into the people they will one day be, and I am so grateful for their spirits and their love for me and each other!

Random

When Landon gets slammed at work, my life often feels a little out of control. Sometimes I feel like I may as well be a single mom, but then I feel guilty about that since single moms ALSO have to go earn a living in addition to all the stuff I'm doing. So instead, I choose to feel grateful that Landon has so much work to do because if there is a demand for his services, he still has a job. A good job. One that enables me to hang out at home and take care of the kids and such . . . So hooray for the two trials Landon has on his schedule in the next couple of months and the various other cases in different stages of development!

I have the GREATEST mother-in-law, ever. Like, for realz. She loves me like her own biological kids, and she adores the grandkids I have helped provide. Living near my in-laws has been a huge blessing in our lives, particularly in the form of me occasionally getting a break from cleaning, taking care of the kids, etc. Just last week, I was feeling slammed. My MIL calls me up and asks if she can "please" have the kids for the weekend . . . It's like she was reading my mind from afar and knew how to make me feel sane again. We drove the munchkins up to her house yesterday, hung out for maybe an hour (during which time I was fed a delicious, freshly baked cinnamon roll, no less) and then we took off. Our kids couldn't have cared less that we were leaving because they were with GRANDMA! When I called to check in this morning, Mason couldn't be bothered to talk to me as he was otherwise occupied with something awesome, and Marissa gave me all of 60 seconds with a strongly urged, "Say, 'I love you, Mama!'" from Grandma. By the way, that was the first time my daughter ever said that to me (she tells other people that all the time, but it was my first), so again, thanks Grandma Bailey! I'm so, so blessed to have you for my second mom!

Speaking of being kid-free, Landon and I went on a date yesterday. I love date night (er, date afternoon in this case), and not just because it's super nice to get out of the house sans enfants. I love date night because I really enjoy being with my husband. We have so much fun together. We don't have to be doing something fancy or expensive to have a good time. I just thoroughly enjoy my husband. He's really, really great. I'm grateful that I met and married a man who I love being with pretty much any time. Also, Avatar 3D on Imax was pretty fantastic.

Something else that is really nice about getting rid of the kids for a couple of days is that it reminds me how much I enjoy being with them too. As I was explaining this morning to Landon, being their mom is basically an integral part of my identity at this point. It's what I do all day, every day and has been for nearly 5 years. So, while I certainly love the break and the peace and the quiet, I do miss my kids. I'm looking forward to retrieving them from Grandma's house soon because my snug and kiss reserves are running low. I'm grateful for the reminder of how much I truly love being with my kids.

Finally, I recently started playing volleyball after an absence of five years from the sport. I love being back. I love getting out and being active and doing something I love to do. It's great. What's even better, however, is that my husband is really supportive of me playing again. He's encouraging me to go, rearranging his schedule to make sure I can go and is hanging out with the kids, feeding them dinner, and putting them to bed so I can go. I'm loving every minute of being back on the court, and I am so, so grateful for the opportunity to be out there.

Life is good. Amen.

May 2009, Looking Back

Wow. May was an exciting month for the Bailey crew. It brought the return of the baseball season with lots of opportunities to go to games together as a family (and Mason's first home run ball!).

It brought Mason's first attempts at fishing with Grandpa Rachac in 7th Heaven.

I had the opportunity to get away, alone, for a visit to my best friend Lara in Seattle (AWESOME!).

And finally, in the final hours of the month, we were able to meet the newest member of the Rachac clan!

We are so grateful for the arrival of a healthy baby to my sister's family. I am personally so grateful for the opportunity for time away to relax and remember why I love what I do, even though it's easy for me to forgot in the midst of the day-to-day. I cherish the memories we make in the simple moments of doing something new and in doing something familiar as a family. I am so blessed in my life.