Radom Picture of the Day

In August I shipped my youngest off to college.  How on earth was I going to keep in touch with this kid?  A weekly phone call like my mom established with me was not going to happen... ACK!  On his first day I begged for a picture, any picture, just so I knew he was still alive.

When a smartass raises children, they are bound to be strong in the smartass skills.

I can't even begin to tell you how happy this single picture made me.  Then I asked his siblings to do the same.  Unaware of this shot, his sister sent a similar picture as she sat in the airport waiting to go to Las Vegas.

And so it began.

We created a facebook chat group with the intent of sending a picture everyday.  Everyday turns out to be unrealistic but a few times a week we exchange random pictures and sometimes it prompts conversation.  In the last eight months I have had better communication with all three of my children than I have had in the past eight years.  We talk!  It's fabulous! 

And the pictures?  Well, they're random...

We finally let my daughter-in-law in the club and now I see updates on my grandbabies.

Oh yeah, since my last post I have gained a FOURTH grandchild, a beautiful little girl.

Much Ado

I was filling out a profile today that asked for my blog address and so here I am, checking in.  Please don't think for one minute that I have forgotten my favorite room on the internet.  I have to much to share and none of it earth shattering.

Well, wait a minute, one announcement is ginormous!  My son has been accepted to a big 4 year university!  This is big for any kid, but this one, the one who has so-so grades and a mediocre ACT, it is monumental, especially for this particular school.

At the moment it's snowing.  We haven't had nearly as much white stuff as we did last year and nothing like the east coast has experienced.  That said, this one looks like a doozy, at least for us.

18 years ago

September 16 was Mexico's Independence Day.  I know this because 18 years ago I was in Cancun with my friends sitting in Senor Frogs.  All of the bars were filled to the gills with locals watching El Presidente on TV give a speech.  At the end he declared VIVA MEXICO and the crowds erupted with their own VIVA MEXICO!!!  We could hear people on the streets cheering.  It was crazy.  Fun, but crazy.

Two days later we returned home.  It could have been Montezuma's Revenge, but it started to sneak into my mind the possibility that, um, maybe, seven years after my last child that I could possibly be pregnant.

That little guy in my header walking on the beach in Destin Florida was my Montezuma's Revenge.  It makes me a little weepy to see him so little.  He's a senior this year, working, contemplating college, tall enough to touch the ceiling, strong enough to lift big heavy things, mature enough to understand, compassionate enough to care... sigh... none of that matters, though.  He will eternally be that little boy walking on the beach in my eyes.

18 years ago was one of the coolest vacations I ever had and it was the turning point of a major life change.

¡VIVA MÉXICO!

My Second Child

Today my son Keith turns 25.  Of course my mind goes back to the day of his delivery, but I also consider how his arrival impacted our family.  Every parent wonders about how life will change with their first child, but number two?  How different can that be? 

With my first pregnancy I was able to focus on every little nuance and change in my body.  I sang to the baby and we had long talks.  Baby number two I had a toddler running around.  My conversations were now two-sided and highly focused on cookies.  I'm sure I sang but to the little tyke in front of me not the one rumbling around inside me.  And when the baby arrived again all of our focus was on the older child so she wouldn't feel slighted and making sure she wouldn't hurt him as she played... or walked past.

Fortunately our once only-child, readily accepted the screaming baby and the new routines necessary for two children.

The immediate change was of course in us as parents.  No more could we hyper-focus on one child, we had to be fair and figure out how to spend equal time with each.  "Equal" wasn't ever possible.  Their needs were different.  Out of necessity we couldn't let either child just do whatever at their whim.  Feeding, diapering, bedtimes had to be implemented on a schedule, not that either child could be forced but it eventually came to be.  Since we could no longer hyper-focus on the needs of one child we learned to mellow out.  Things dropped on the floor weren't rushed to the sink to be sanitized but quickly wiped off and handed back to a child ready to burst into full squawk.   Not that I ever kept a perfectly clean house, but my standards lowered even further.  Toys scattered every room and we blindly stepped over each one.  It was just easier.  In fact "it was just easier" became our approach to a lot of things.

For the first child, she had to change as well.  No longer was she the focus of the family.  She had to share her parents, her room, her toys, and sometimes her food.  Okay, she never shared her food but that didn't stop little fingers from trying to abscond a morsel or two.  Sharing is a necessary skill among siblings and she was getting a crash course.

For the new baby, he never was the center of anyone's universe.  In some ways that makes me sad.  Fortunately, his mellow temperament made this a non-issue.  He just goes with the flow.  If something is not available then he will drift to something that is available.  That's not to say he hasn't perfected the art of tormenting his sister into tantrums.  He is very good at provoking and finds immense humor in it.  There is an evil glint in his eyes despite looking oh-so innocent, "who me?"

Pride for many parents arrives with the mile-stone accomplishments of their children - graduations, promotions, acknowledgments, sports.  For me, my pride came early on just watching my children.  There was something special sitting on the porch as they romped and played in the yard.  They played WITH each other. 

If I ever tried to help things along it only destroyed the fragile magic they had woven.  I could hear the same thing from other rooms as I was cleaning.  They were keeping each other occupied and having fun.  I can still hear the squeals and giggles that would come to a complete halt as soon as they noticed me watching.  I learned to stand back and enjoy the show from a distance.  Even when they fought if I left them to their own devices they would soon be laughing again.

Many years later this dynamic duo easily accepted a third child into the fold.  They interact with him differently that they do each other.  When Ian was little, he had a second set of parents, an ever watchful set of guardians to help him in any way necessary.  That's not to say big brother didn't torment him too, but there was a line that was never crossed because he was "little".  Only recently has Ian grown to be the same size as his brother and bigger than his sister that they now treat him as an equal, but it's still not the same way Keith and Amanda treat each other.  Keith and his little brother are now friends and actually choose to hang out.  I'm blown away every time I hear Keith is coming to the house to play games or watch a movie with a punk teenaged kid still in high school. 

Today Keith has two beautiful children of his own and he is the most hands-on father I have ever seen.  His children light up when he enters the room.   He plays with them and rough-houses, but he also disciplines them.  I can't even explain my pride in seeing him as a father.  He dumbfounds me.  I watch him awestruck.

I find the same delight watching his children interact as I did with him and his sister.  It looks like they will fight and tussle, laugh and scheme just as their dad and aunt did as children.  That's not to say I don't still sit back and watch my adult children interact.  It's impossible to tell how long they have been apart because their conversations and tormenting pick up from their last encounter.

Keith, like his mellow personality, brought a mellowness to our family.  I never expected it, I didn't even know to look for it.

Why My Daughter Would Kill Me

Yesterday I went on a little jaunt around town that had my daughter been in the car, she would have reached from the backseat and put her hands around my neck and ended my mortal suffering.  She has been on similar journeys, ones where taking the scenic route interfered with the destination, leaving her fuming and me giggling with "oops" guess that was a wrong turn....

Hubby and I started our day off to join some friends as they said farewell to a musician that passed away last week from cancer.  I didn't know the man, but my friend Donna had worked with his wife for many years.  We drove to Soulard, a beautiful old French part of town filled with corner bars, a great century old farmers market and hosts our annual Mardi Gras celebrations.  The 1860's Saloon was crammed with people and no place decent for Mr. Bad Knees to sit down.  We greeted our friends, passed condolences to the widow, had a beer, listened to two songs, and had to leave.  It was too much standing in too little of a space.  Clearly Jimmy Lee Kennett was adored by many many people and I hope such a public outpouring of support warmed Heidi's heart.  By the way FUCK CANCER!

Thus begins the roadtrip of many miles.

I suggested that since we were just down the road, let's see if we can find the Lafayette cake (STL 250 celebration).  That was easy enough!  Hubby said with the afternoon wide open, let's go to Illinois and check out Lottawatta Lodge (they reportedly have his most favorite food in the world, chicken fried steak).  I google the location, it's only 12 miles away.  I cruise down Tucker, head south and at the light to turn onto the highway I spot another cake right in front of me.  It's the Soulard Restoration location.  Woot!  As we scoot across the intersection I make the discovery that Tucker turns into Gravois.  This is news to me for all of the years I worked downtown and lived in south county, I had no clue.  It will also be key to this story much later on.

Pictures taken, chat with a couple of girls also grabbing the same photo op, then hop on the highway!  This is uneventful despite the many highways all converging across the same bridge.  Three miles into Illinois I see a sign for the Jackie Joyner Kersey Center.  HEY!  They have a cake there too!  Mind you, this is THE WORST EVER PART OF ST. LOUIS.  This is EAST ST. LOUIS.  There is no reason for anyone to be there ever.  But it's daylight and my husband is with me, so we take the dive and get off the highway.

Again, this goes without a hitch.  I get my picture and return to the highway.  We pull into the lot at Lottawatta and there are a ton of cars and a line out the door.  I ask the lady at the end and she was told it was an hour to an hour and a half wait! 

Uh no

We decide to go home and grab some coupons for Olive Garden.  I suggest the "scenic" route up RT 159 which the sign says goes through Collinsville, home of the Giant Ketchup Bottle, host to another cake.  Hubby agrees.  We find Collinsville and the giant ketchup bottle with no problem.  As I start to pull out of the lot (yes there is a parking lot for all of the gawkers) Hubby suggests that instead we go to the chicken place I pointed out on one of our midnight tours of the city a couple weeks ago.  We frequently drive around places and now that I'm hunting cakes we do so with a little bit of a mission and a whole lot of meandering.

Hodak's.  I have never been to Hodak's but since working many many years ago at the Riverfront Times I have heard how fabulous the chicken is at Hodak's.  I knew it was in South St. Louis, but never exactly sure where.  When I saw it one night as we cruised down Gravois I pointed it out and suggested that we go there sometime since Hubby is a HUGE fan of fried chicken.

Gravois (by the way, in St. Louis it is NOT "grav- wa" as the French would say, nooooo this is "Grav-OYs") is a loooong north south road, which remember I just discovered begins where Tucker Avenue ends.  It is the old Route 66 until it meets with Chippewa, but the road continues well south beyond that... into Jefferson County where it turns into Hwy 30.

But anyway, I ponder the best way to reach Hodak's since I discovered its location in the dark.  I was certain it was past the Bevo Mill, even beyond Bates Avenue.  I could take Gravois but that would be a lot of stop lights.  Why don't I just cut all of that down and take 55 to Morganford?

As we drive down the highway we pass the exit for Bates but never see one for Morganford.  I jump off at the River Des Peres, the southern most point where this restaurant could possibly be located.  We start north on Gravois and drive.  We pass Bates Avenue.  We pass the Bevo Mill.  Still no Hodak's.  I pull over finally and look up the address, 2100 Gravois.  We were at 4300.  I had a sinking feeling that taking the highway was the wrong decision.

At last we find Hodak's.  After a 20 minute wait in line we are seated and proceed to enjoy the "best" fried chicken in St. Louis.  It was a good meal and definitely reasonably priced.

When we headed home I continued driving north on Gravois.  I literally drove two blocks and was smack dab at the Soulard Restoration where Tucker turns into Gravois!  Uh yeah, I took the long way to find the restaurant.  It also happens to be at the intersection of Geyer, which hours earlier we were sitting in the 1860's Saloon a few blocks away at 9th and Geyer.  I COULD HAVE WALKED FROM THE SALOON TO HODAK'S!  It was maybe five blocks apart.

Shit like this drives my daughter insane.

Raising Boys

Is it sexist to say boys and girls are different? I mean beyond physical differences, aren't we all the same at our core?

No.

As soon as you bring home your little bundle wrapped in blue the realization starts to dawn.  All of those years staring at your partner wondering why his mother didn't do more?  Couldn't she tame that animal spirit?  Tone down the dust storm?  Yeah, it was hopeless from the beginning.  You probably owe her an apology.

The difference lies in how we express ourselves.  Girls use their heads, not so much thinking although that too, but they use their mouths with a stream of words that flow with every inhale and exhale.  Their eyes not only absorb but also flow.  Women can TALK with their eyes, not just "come hither" looks but mothers telling their children to pipe down or a full dialog between friends with a simple roll of eyes.

Boys use their other five limbs.  Yes, I am including the little dingle-hopper between their legs.  If they use their head, it will be as a sixth limb, usually to clobber something.  Using the head as a legit soccer move was most definitely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, invented by a boy.

That's not to say girls aren't physical because they are.  That's not say girls can't be rambunctious because they are.  But there is an intensity to the physical nature of boys that make girls seem... delicate.  Being physical is the first option for a boy.  He will ram into, stomp, hit, jump, or run before anything else. 

(OMG, while writing this my husband just turned on The Andy Griffith Show which drives me INSANE.  The whistling theme song comes on, I look up, then look over to him with a KILL look.  He grins and without a word, changes the channel.  Yes, we women TALK with our eyes.  A smart man will learn to listen with his eyes.  Or die.)


You would think this physical boyness would hit sometime in the grade school years when other boys would have influence.  Or maybe as early as pre-school?  Or when his father displays his own boyishness?  Nope, right from the start, all on his own, without any other male influence.  There is something with those rapid leg thrusts or his deep, demanding squawk.  He is learning very early on how to use his body at its full physical maximum.

He will discover his penis about the time he can grab his toes.  His fascination with his toes will wane as soon as he can fully sit up, but not that other appendage.  That is a life-time fascination.  It will be up to you to teach him that it is not proper to display it, touch it, talk about it or in any other way wield that thing in public.  And good luck when he discovers peeing.  When I worked at a daycare center I once had to go into the boys bathroom to break up a Star Wars style pissing contest between four boys standing at the urinals.  They were gleefully crossing streams and making the WORST MESS EVER.

And gadgets.  Oh my God, the gadgets.  It starts with toys and ends with, well, toys.  Golf clubs,  cars, game adapters, cell phones, remote controls, lawn mowers, computers, or power tools.  These are all just extensions of their limbs.  Yes, again, women use, even collect all of these devices, but we just don't weild them with the same intention or intensity.  We use tools for an end, to accomplish a task.  For boys using the tool IS the task.

I think they see, hear, taste, and feel the world in a language us mothers cannot comprehend.  Like a dog whistle, it's something we simply can't hear.  My 2 year old grandson was playing at my house.  I finally halted his non-stop motion to change his diaper.  It was impossible to pull down his pants with his pockets jammed packed with something.  One by one I pulled out five big, white rocks.  I do not have any white rocks in my yard.  These rocks arrived with him.  I changed his diaper and redressed him and handed him his rocks which were promptly shoved back into his pockets.  Then he toddled over to my collection of pretty stones and started to pocket them as well!  When I tell women this story they laugh at the ridiculousness of it.  Men look blankly at me with, "well, of course he would."

Boys aren't all muscle and no feeling.  Their feelings, however, are usually expressed physically.  A girl will take her most cherished items and proudly display them on neatly dusted shelves, never touched, only to be admired.  Boys take their favorite items straight to the backyard, run them through the dirt, hang them from a tree, strap them on bicycles, splattered in mud.  The most egregious thing a mother could ever do is wash her son's favorite stuffed animal.  Through the muck and indiscernible stains we stitch the ear back into place and promptly sanitize our hands.

Boys are caught off-guard that not everyone sees the world through their curious little eyes.  A girl will wail for days on end about her poor decapitated doll.  Her brother amused the lawn mower can make such a precision cut is suddenly wrought with guilt not for the damage he caused to his sister's toy, I mean that's what you DO with toys, right?  No, he's sorry his actions hurt her.  He can't fix it, he can't make her stop feeling sad.  Years after she rebounded with new favorite toys, he will still ache for the pain he caused her.

Our little boys, in reality, are tender hearted creatures.

A year and a half ago, my ex-husband's father passed away.  He was a sweet man who loved his family, even those of us that married into and divorced out.  Love was his tool, and he wielded it expertly.  Losing Ralph rippled through the community, but shattered his family.  Everyone rallied around expressing the love they had so warmly received.

At his funeral I sat at the back of the church next to my mom, my brother, and his wife.  My father-in-law had touched many people and it was only right that my family came to pay their respects.  In the first pew my ex-husband, a big, lumbering biker, a former Marine crumbled, devastated and whimpering in his wife's arms.  At the other end my daughter still managing to dribble tears after days of non-stop crying was curled up next to her boyfriend.  Behind her sat my two sons, ages 15 and 23.  They sat stoically in a boyish silence unsure what to do with all of this grief around them.  They were used to seeing their sister cry but seeing their dad so dismantled was surely unnerving.

I don't remember what was said, but whatever it was it struck my sons simultaneously.  The bricks their physical boyishness had encased around each of them suddenly crumbled.  Tears rolled out, big sobbing tears out of both of them.  Grandpa Ralph was dead, and they hurt.  A lot.  Shaking and trembling they threw their arms around each other.  Maternal instinct thrust me out of my seat just short of climbing over all of those pews and I ran to them.  Suddenly I had my arms around my two little boys, devastated and hurting.  If they could have crawled up on my lap, they would. 

Having sons can be a challenge.  Boys jump and leap, run, and headbump, all with vigor.  Things will be broken and "clean" will be an eternal quest.   As you clean out pockets filled with mysterious white rocks from a bouncing little boy with smudges on his face, never forget underneath it all is the most fragile heart of any creature you will ever meet.  It is our jobs as mothers to protect that heart and make sure that it doesn't get buried and trapped under all of the toys and gadgets, bricks and stones they clutter around themselves as a shield. 

There is nothing on earth like a little boy.

REPOST: Snowmaggedon Survival Guide - Or How Not To Slaughter Your Children And Use Their Bones To Heat Your Home

I haven't forgotten about y'all, but my brain is empty.  When I was poking around for something else I found this post and thought I would re-share it.

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

Snowmaggedon Survival Guide - Or How Not To Slaughter Your Children And Use Their Bones To Heat Your Home

I'm an unofficial parenting advice source for my friends and co-workers.  Last week I got a frantic email asking how to get a few precious minutes ALONE from her 3 year old.  Then yesterday the same person posted on facebook wanting to know how to keep her daughter amused during a snow day.  I'm even reading how stay-at-home moms are at their wits end with their cabin fever infected spawn.

First, understand that cabin fever doesn't truly set in until after several weeks.  So what we're really dealing with is boredom doubled up with a break in routine and insecurity.  And folks, insecurity about the weather comes from YOU.  Think about what you're saying, the words you're using, not just with the kids but with your spouse and to the people on the phone.  "Hi mom, just checking in to make sure you're doing okay with this dreadful weather.  mmmhmmm... yeah, the roads look dangerous and I heard that Mary fractured her hip when she walked outside.... OH I KNOW!  ...well you take care and stay warm.   Call us if you need anything."  Innocent enough conversation, but to little ears?  SCARY!

So here you go, a list of activities to keep your kids (and you) from clawing down the walls:

1.  Make cookies (I hate making a special day defined by food, but these are desperate times and food soothes.  Suck it up).  I suggest chocolate chip, but go ahead and make whatever flavor makes your crew happy.

2.  Make homemade hot cocoa - I went out and searched for a recipe for you, one that happens to be on the box of baking cocoa in my cabinet
    http://www.hersheys.com/recipes/5265/Hot%20Cocoa.aspx
         1/2 cup sugar
         1/4 cup HERSHEY'S Cocoa
         dash of salt
         1/3 cup hot water
         4 cups (1 qt) milk
         3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Stir together sugar, cocoa and salt in medium saucepan; stir in water. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until mixture comes to a boil. Boil and stir 2 minutes. Add milk; stirring constantly, heat to serving temperature. Do Not Boil.
   
2. Remove from heat; add vanilla. Beat with rotary beater or whisk until foamy. Serve topped with marshmallows or whipped cream, if desired. Five 8-oz. servings. 

Um, that bit about serving with marshmallows "if desired"???  Bullshit - they are absolutely necessary.

3.  Have a picnic in the middle of your living room (Your house is going to be a disaster zone if you follow my directions, but again desperate times call for desperate actions.  Suck it up.  Actually, for your own sanity and as an extra activity to keep the munchkins occupied, CLEAN UP after each thing you do).  Pull out a blanket and sit your butt on the ground just as if you were at a park in the middle of summer.

4.  Pull out the stuffed animals.  Oh, you thought they were decoration?  Ha!  Tell the kids to sit in the bathroom (without touching anything) as you quickly assemble the fake beasts around the house.  Then lead your children through the house on a guided safari.  Discuss their natural environments.  If you don't know where those beasts live or what they eat, have the kids offer suggestions.  Or make up facts.  Kids love far fetched and whimsical.  You might even score cool points.  Yes, your big kids should be expected to play along.  After much bitching and grumbling about how gay and retarded all of this is, point out no one is watching (Take this opportunity to review why "gay" and "retarded" are politically incorrect and that they are hurtful terms).  Their defenses will quickly melt and they'll be giggling along with the younger sibs

5.  Hold an Easter Egg hunt.  Dig out those plastic eggs and take turns hiding the eggs from the rest of the group.  If you by chance don't have plastic eggs (make sure to stop at Walgreens the day after Easter this year and load up on them for the next snowtrastrophy) gather up small trinkets, maybe toys and use them for your egg hunt.

6.  Build a tent city.  Use kitchen chairs for structure and drape blankets and sheets over them.  Bring in the stuffed animals for their mini families.  With a sheet draped over the kitchen table, eat lunch under the table.  Give each kid a flashlight, load them up with coloring books and crayons and then slip off to read your own book in peace.  Tell them they can take their afternoon naps in their tents.

7.  Write a letter to Grandma, complete with an envelope for each child and real stamp.  And mail them, even if grandma (or whoever) lives next door.

8.  Move your tent city into the living room, restructured into a drive in.  Pick an old movie from your selection (that would be the Power Rangers Movie at my house - I have that damn "oh oh, we're in trouble" song etched into my head for eternity.  I'm going to have alzheimers and hum that stupid tune it's so ingrained in my gray matter).  By the way, the movie selection is not decided by any democratic process, totally a surprise.  I hope you have real popcorn on hand, not the microwave stuff.  If not, make do, but really, next time you're at the store grab a bag of popcorn kernals.

Any of these activities provide HOURS of activity.  At some point the kids are going to be sick of the togetherness and will be glad to flee into their bedrooms for hibernation.  Let go of your routine and any sense of order.  That's a scary place for a lot of moms, but do it and watch those little smiles grow.  It's totally worth it.  And yes, give them plenty of unstructured time.

OH!  And pull out the camera.  Record this day, it will be precious.

Advice To My Pregnant Daughter

Yes, another grandchild is on the horizon.  If you're keeping count that would be THREE grandbabies!  This arrival will be a first for my daughter.

There is so much to say and so many questions to answer.  Of course I am instantly brought back to my first pregnancy.  26 years ago today I was eight months along and done being pregnant.  If the icky pukey morning sickness stage is miserable, just wait, seven/plus pounds of wiggly fetus pressing on your bladder, colon, stomach, kidneys, rib cage, lungs and whatever else that stinker can stretch out and reach will make you wish you were hugging a toilet, hacking up a handful of crackers.

For however gross and uncomfortable it all is and will be, it is totally worth it.  This is a unique journey not afforded everyone.  And your first time?  Truly magical.  This is the time you can truly appreciate what miracles your body can produce.  There is an actual PERSON growing in there.  I remember rubbing the nearly non-existent bump and humming songs.  If you love music I'm sure it's because how much exposure you had before you took your first breath.  Unlike my next two pregnancies, when I had oooohhh YOU running amuck, I could focus completely on the changes my body was making as you grew.  I found it fascinating and I hope you do too.

So, for my actual advice:

Take time to journal your experience.  This baby will not allow you the peace and quiet necessary to gather your thoughts during future pregnancies.

Sleep.  I'm pretty sure I taught you the value of sleep, but let me remind you.  It is as vital to your health and sanity as eating healthy.  Take naps often.  This is good training for after baby arrives that you let the dirty dishes sit so you can grab essential sleep.

Eat.  And eat right.  At the moment anything you can keep in your stomach is "right" but soon you'll be ready to rampage a buffet like a million teenage boys.  Keep yourself in check.  Milk, which includes cheese and milkshakes, are essential, but try to do so in moderate amounts.

Exercise.  I just could not master this one and am still paying the price.  Keep your body active, stretch regularly. 

DITCH ALL ADVICE BOOKS AND WEBSITES.  I quickly learned to disregard all of those helpful tips coming from every damn corner.  It's overwhelming, frequently counter-intuitive, and most of it does not apply to your situation.  Find a zen way to blow past it.  You only need to listen to your mother and your doctor :)  Actually, if you come across books like "What to Expect When You're Expecting" take them for the spirit they are intended, simply as a guide.  Seek advice for the clinical stuff and developmental stages, but all of the rest is just noise and treat it as such.

Building off that last one, avoid pregnancy/delivery war stories.  I've warned you about this one before and I'm sure you've already been subjected to horror stories.  Find a way to escape these conversations.  They are not helpful and could actually build unnecessary fear.

Fear.  It is natural.  I went through crazy bouts of paranoia and the nightmares were unreal.  They make sense if you think about it, your body is forcing you to protect this baby.  It is what makes you into a growling momma bear.  So hearing all of that other crap scaring you about delivery or your future baby's health is totally unneeded.  Your active imagination will fuel all of that without any help.  Find a grounded source to talk these things out - my ear is always available.

Take some time to consider your parenting style.  Think about what you did and did not like about your upbringing.  Be careful with the I-never's because that will bite you in the ass. 

God gives us nine months for a reason.  You may be ready to hold your little bundle right here and now, but the rest of us, especially daddy, need that time to absorb and prepare.  Be patient if he isn't quite on the same page.  Dads don't tend to accept the reality of a baby until they actually hold that pink, screaming child.  It is also during this time that your body trains you for waking up for a baby eating every two hours, adjusting your sense of smell so you can literally sense danger and identify your baby from all of the other ones in the nursery, and widening your hips so you can pass a watermelon.  It is all for a reason.  Ride the tide and appreciate it as literal steps in your development as a mother.

This baby is a blessing and my heart is simply bursting with pride and anticipation.

With all of my love,
Mom

Significant Snowfall

Last Friday we had a big storm roll through.  Like the week before doom and gloom was predicted, however that storm swung south leaving St. Louis cold with a smattering of snow flakes.  This storm lived up to its predictions with approximately four inches left to shovel.

Most people here ate the stuff, but me, I love it.   I'm not particularly fond of the bitter cold that seems to accompany snow.  Saturday morning was not an ass-biting cold day so it was pleasant to be outside clearing my driveway.  Unfortunately my son wasn't home to build any snowmen with me.  We could have built a whole army!  ....hmmm that would be fun!

Since I first saw this house I've wondered how the yard would look in a good layer of snow.  According to my smartass brother, "white".  And yes it was white.  No footprints other than a track from some rabbits sullied my snow.  Five days later the white garden is nearly as pristine as the day it arrived.  Everything under the trees has melted away but not enough to detract from the rest of the yard.

Just Hanging Out

On Saturday my mother, daughter, and I traveled to Springfield Illinois to watch my niece compete in the national dog agility championships.

I have a ton more pictures to share hopefully over the next couple of days.  These are just candid shots where we were having fun.  Honestly, the whole day was extremely fun, exhausting, but fun.

Sun in the background?  Who cares!  Look at the great effect it cast.

My beautiful niece showing off her all purple pride for team competion

We walked through downtown to the various Lincoln exhibits and found a random boot on the sidewalk!

"No cameras?"

Awesome posing by my lovely daughter showing how to be a proper tourist

My goofball brother laying in an empty fountain.

Cousin war

JUMPING IN!

The Holes In My Yard

Shortly after we put in an offer on this house I discovered that the bigass yard had some issues going on with the lawn.  Not all of it.  The biggest portion is thick, lush, green grass.  But this one section is mostly weeds.

At first I suspected moles but none of the identifying mounded tunnels ran through the yard.  Maybe it was mole damage from the past?  Then I wondered if it was a fungus of some sort?  I had noticed spots on one of the trees and a couple of the rose bushes.

Over the weekend I discovered tons and tons of holes in my yard.  These were something different than cicadas emerging from the ground.  I accept those bastards like ant hills, just part of the natural outdoors that is easier to ignore than battle.  In one hole there was an acorn.  Oh okay, I thought, squirrels are ripping up my yard.

Yes, yes, I realize that is a rather passive attitude, however, squirrels are not hell-bent on devouring one's lawn or ripping it to shreds to gnaw on the beasties that live under the lawn.  They make random holes, inadvertently planting future oak trees.  This damage is minimal and I can live with it. 

On Sunday I decided to mow the lawn (yes with my awesome new riding mower, vrroom vroom).  I moved the boat shaped kid pool...

 

Notice the nasty lack o'grass?

Lo and behold, under the boat were TWO brown critters.  They were longer than a mouse but not quite shaped like a mole.  I totally forgot that moles have digging flippers or I would have instantly realized these were not moles.  One darted off but the other just sat there staring at me, and me at it.  Was it a mouse?  It had mouse-like ears and a very mousy face but a shorter tail.  I realize most people DETEST mice but really, they are cute, if you can get past the fact that they carry fleas and the plague and will devour your entire pantry.  This guy was super duper cute.  I resisted the urge to touch it and then it ran away.  

Great.  I have mice.  At least they aren't in the house... yet.  As I said it wasn't a type of mouse that looked familiar.  The tail really was the wrong length.  I broke down and googled it.  Yes, it is a type of mouse, more commonly known as a vole.

I have since educated myself about voles.  Voles are vegetarians and prefer grass.  They LOVE golf courses.  Oh yeah there is one just beyond the house across the street.  Lucky me - golf balls and voles in my yard!  (we are collecting the golf balls and so far have found five)

Voles burrow down to a colony.  The exterior hole is the diameter of a broom handle.  Yep!

Moles form visible tunnels as they paddle just below the surface.  Voles, on the other hand, basically plow the top of the land for their tunnels.  This isn't quite as obvious in my yard.  I just have lots of brown patches with dead grass.  A lot of the green that has taken over are weeds.

I posted to Facebook my plight.  The suggestions ranged from getting a cat (two prowl the neighborhood already), shoving cat poop into the holes, concocting a brew of human piss, dishsoap, and garlic juice to pour down the holes, to dropping handfuls of human hair into the holes.  The last one would be easy considering how much I shed.

One of the easiest and least gross suggestions was to put pieces of partially chewed gum in the holes.

Guess what I had in my desk????

A "bat" filled with old gumballs.  

 

Seriously, shit like this only encourages my packrat tendencies.  Of course I have old gum.  And yes, I was willing to chew it.

Last night Doubting Teenager dispensed gumballs to his deranged mother who pranced from hole to hole depositing half chewed gum.  After a while he sort of got into it and was helping me find more holes.  Holy crap something has been very busy in my yard.  Most disturbing are the fresh holes in my lush, pretty grass.  This is all out war and it may mean forcing the menfolk of my house to urinate in coffee cans.

Fortunately this morning when I checked a few holes before heading off to work I noticed the gum was gone.  

I will keep you apprised of my vole adventures.

Friday Fragments - August 2, 2013

It's been a while since I've done this and it looks like Mrs 4's isn't hosting at the moment.  So I'll just frag here.

Let's see, since my last fragment back in... March?  I have bought and moved into a house.  Big ass ordeal but I love my new home.

We finally rolled out the database at work that was supposed to roll out last September, then October, then December, then January.  hahahaha.  June 1st!  It was not smooth, AT ALL.  We are still mopping up the fallout.  Which by the way, I closed on my house June 13th.  So my stress levels were astronomic as you can imagine. 

My kid is forced to change high schools as a result of this move.  Unhappy and excited all rolled into one.  He is hoping to run into old friends from when we lived here 7 years ago.

I'm getting a second grandbaby!!!!!!  A girl is expected in November and we will share middle names.  That makes me ridiculously happy.  So in the middle of moving, hottest day of the year, sweating like a dog, I'm crying happy tears on the sidewalk where they decided to share this news.  Buttheads.

Recently we spent a weekend with my college roommate who I haven't seen for a while.  It was a great time to catch up, hang out, and relax.  It was a mini vacation that I very truly needed.  Our husbands hit it off so I hope to have more frequent encounters.  Even though I live literally two blocks away from her dad's house it is likely she will take up my offer to stay at my house.  Dad's gets crowded with other family members and this would save her a hotel stay.  This thought excites me to no end.

So, what's new with you?  Any big plans to finish out the summer? 

Man Up Dammit

My 16 year old son, big as a grown man, needed me to come into his bedroom the other night and kill a fucking spider. On the ceiling. The child  is taller than me and can touch the ceiling. But nooooo, we had to lug out something, I think it was his safe, for ME to stand on to kill A FUCKING SPIDER. That ran three times before it got smooshed. With HIS longass shoe.

Did I mention it was on the ceiling? A spider? Above MY head? With ME teetering on a tiny box? When the child could just reach up with no effort with his own damn shoe and kill it hisownself???

I may or may not have said the following which I'm sure should be compiled in a book of things one should never say to their own children "you are going to have to give up your man card if you're going to continue go be such a pussy about spiders".

I mean seriously the only reason to keep menfolk around is to carry heavy shit and TO KILL SPIDERS. He's holding his own on carrying heavy shit but he clearly has more growing to do until I can release him out into the wild.

Damn kids.

My Little Boy

I figured it was time to update my blog backgrounds and dug up an old header.  That kid?  He's not so little any more and it makes me a little weepy.  We are preparing to move out of our house and it strikes me multiple times how much time has passed in six little years. 

Ian had just turned ten when we moved in.  He was going to start fifth grade in a new school in a new district.  He was (and is) such an outgoing person that I knew he would adjust quickly.  He did. 

Despite having gone through the teen years twice already with his siblings and knowing that you just cannot predict the future, I am still surprised how far off base I was in guessing what/where/how he would be at 16.  Soooo far off.  And yet, like his siblings, he is exactly what/where/how he should be.

The one thing I got right was his size.  As a newborn I looked at his feet and compared him to a puppy, guessing that those large paws were indicative of a tall man one day.  Today he teeters over six feet and I swear every time he returns from dad's house he is an inch taller.  I don't know that he will reach the 6'4" heights of my brothers and I'm pretty sure my nephew will sprout pass him, but he is definitely the tallest of my children.  I have to look up to see his hazel eyes and the twerp enjoys every second of it.  He definitely relishes being taller than his big brother.

Our new home requires another change in schools and a return to our previous school district.  He's not happy about leaving his friends but social media and a future driver's license breaks that distance quickly.  He is excited about his new school, his new bedroom, and the Junior Man Cave.  We were honest that the basement was going to end up being mostly his domain.  Hubby's knees just are not going to make the trip down those stairs more than necessary so we are setting up the living room as his media center and Ian is getting the basement.  BOOYAH!

The past year has already proved that Ian has developed upper body strength and he will be an asset as we lug all of our crap to the new house.  His understanding of electronics will mean he will be vital in getting the TV's, game systems,  and audio wiring in place.  Maybe if I had put my head into it a little harder I could have foreseen these traits coming to fruition.  Instead I am in awe.

He is an amazing young man, and "man" is the right word.  What the hell happened to my little boy?

Sunday In My City - My Daughter Turns 25

Yesterday my daughter turned 25... and of course I am far too young to have a child so OLD.  I suggested to another blogger to make sure to pose in pictures with your children.  This issue came up recently at funeral of my friend's mother - there were only a scant few pictures of mom with either of her girls.  So many of us hate having our pictures taken, but seriously swallow your pride and give your children something to put up at your funeral (if for no other reason). 

My collection of intentionally posed mother-daughter pictures started quite by accident - we attended a Girl Scout event where polaroid shots were taken of each mother-daughter pair and then we crafted frames.  We did this several years in a row and I treasure the shots.  After that we made sure to continue the tradition of posing together if even it meant one of us had to take the picture with an extended arm.  I dug through my albums and found some shots that predated the GS events.  I regret not having a similar collection with my sons.

My Attempts to Starve a Child

Okay, I wasn't "trying" to kill the kid, but maybe in the end my plans were not nearly so well thought-out.  By the way, in the end, he lives.  Not to be a spoiler or anything, just trying to keep children services out of my basement.

Actually, all I did was agree with the dentist that he needs to have two teeth pulled.  The poor planning on my (and the dentist) part was that this wasn't a normal situation, that these two particular teeth are in the middle of his jaw not on one side or all the way in the back like wisdom teeth.  This means, five days later, he is STILL on soft food.

What looked like a cool plan up front, all of the pudding and ice cream you could possibly consume, has turned into a starving, withering teenage boy.  Yes, he is still eating his body weight in pudding and ice cream topped in mounds of cool whip, but he remains HUNGRY!

Day 1 - pudding
Day 2 - pudding, fruit cups, hot dog diced up into itty bitty pieces
Day 3 - pudding, ice cream, fruit cups, bread, cheese pizza (no crunchy crust)
Day 4 - pudding, ice cream, bread, ramen
Day 5 - OH CRAP I HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL WHAT AM I GOING TO EAT????? 

I didn't dare suggest he pack a lunch lest he look like the crazy chick in Breakfast Club.  Instead of Cap'tn Crunch and Pixie Stix he would have four slices of plain bread, a hunk of cheese, and 2 pudding cups... and a woeful look on his face.  Want to spike the attention of the authorities?  Send your kid to school with THAT lunch.  So I sent him to the nurse who happens to be well-versed in dental cases returning to school and fed him a PBJ except the "PB" was actually "sun butter" made out of sunflower seeds.  My consolation that he at least likes sunflower seeds was not met with joy.  Evidently it's not the same.  AND they dared to put jelly on his sandwich - he being the only child alive that does not like jelly.

Somehow he found out (as in texting the entire student body to find the one only kid whose mother actually keeps the copy of the high school lunch menu) today is chicken soft tacos.  "I love their chicken tacos".

He might not starve after all.

Friday Fragments - January 25, 2013

I thought I would have more pictures from last weekend but we were too busy having fun.  And sometimes it's better that way.  We were invited to my brother's house so my son could bring his air-soft gun and play with my nephews.  Since we were dropping him off, why not stay overnight and hang out for a bit?

So we did.

Not only my youngest son went for the weekend but my older son and his family came along too.  And it was such a great escape from the past two weeks of crappy crappiness.  We laughed and drank and laughed some more and ate and laughed.  It was absolutely perfect.  And I got to play with the grandbaby.  Actually, one of the best pictures of the weekend was the "tattoo" I drew on his belly.

If you can't read it, there's a heart with GRANDMA written across it.  The rest of the scribbles were his addition  I think it's fabulous! 

You can still see the sticky circle from the EKG lead - he had a little stay at the hospital after getting into some medicine.  He's okay, but it definitely added to the crapola of a craptastic week.  His mommy and daddy were in dire need of a little rest and relaxation as was offered over the weekend.

Airsoft guns?  They shoot little plastic balls that hurt like a sonofabitch, but aren't intended to do any harm.  The boys play with them like paintball and to hunt each other in the woods.  My brother even got in on the fun and was "killed" on a round or two.  I may not have the score exactly right.  They had fun and that's all that counts.

On top of the shooting and drinking (sounds downright redneck, doesn't it?) we had a scavenger hunt.  We divided into teams, loaded into cars, and went into town getting pictures of your team in front of the listed items - a school, an emergency vehicle, a farm animal, a statue, etc.  The most chatter came from trying to acquire a pen with the company's name on it.  Some people wanted to disqualify mine from Staples where the clerk took a sticker and WROTE the name on it.  No prizes were awarded, only bragging rights.  And plenty of bragging was to be had.

Sunday In My City - Inside the Jewel Box

Inside the Jewel Box at Forest Park

It's smaller than I thought.  I mean it's TALL, but... I don't know what I expected... more paths?  It is a great spot for group pictures and I can see having a reception or other gathering there, like a garden club or something.  Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I went and I can see returning, but not at all what I expected.
 

The sun popped out after the earlier snowfall

I was fascinated when I saw these large fronds.  That curl is as big as my hand if not bigger.

Cousins happy to see each other

 I also expected more tropical flowers, so I was happy to at least see these... in bloom