I posted earlier about the dance of stuff that my family is doing right now. I feel like I spend every moment that I'm not at work and/or the kids are sleeping traversing our piles and piles of stuff. At least once a week I fill the car with unused items and drive them to a donation bin somewhere. In fact, I am right now waiting for a friend to come and empty my car of baby gear.
With every trip I feel a little lighter. I know that I am abiding by my rule, "if we're not going to use it at the new house, we're not moving it." And the real motivation comes from the fact that we're moving ourselves. I don't want to exert the energy to literally move stuff for nothing. And I know, that even without all this stuff, we will still fill that house!
Then, this morning, we get an email from our sellers' agent. They have stuff they aren't going to move, do we want it? I should say no, right? I mean, we have PLENTY of stuff between our house and my mom's. BUT IT'S FREE STUFF!! I mean, it can't hurt to at least find out what it is, right? We can always say no later...
Why is it so darn hard to say "no" to stuff?
Friday, May 27, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
I want to know EVERYTHING!
Urban and I are a lot alike in many ways. My husband might argue that we are alike in some of the most annoying ways, but I like to think they make us charming. One of the things my oldest and I definitely have in common is our insatiable appetite for learning new things.
Urban can’t get enough information fast enough. Ever. He must understand and define every word, concept and object he runs into. He is not only inquisitive, but also quick to educate you if you look interested. And sometimes, even if you don’t… (I got a lovely lesson on midges the other day as I picked him up from his nature center class. He was adamant they won’t hurt you. Good to know.)
That night, as I was helping him into his pajamas, I was chattering to him about something – I honestly can’t remember now what it was; my chatter gets a bit mindless after 8PM – and I said the word spank. Usually, these days, when I say a word he doesn’t understand it has 3 or more syllables and a Latin root, so it just didn’t cross my mind that this little word would turn into a big lesson for both of us.
He looked at me with his enormous blue eyes and held up his hand for me to stop. “Mama, what’s a spank?”
It caught me off guard. I just looked at him, thinking back to the 70s, when I was his age, and there wasn’t a child in the world who would ask that question. Everyone knew what a “spank” was. My parents didn’t spank me, but I certainly knew what it was, well enough to know to avoid at all costs. In my simple mommy-mind, I decided maybe I could salvage his innocence, so I answered, “You don’t know what spanking is, but maybe it’s better that way. You don’t really want to know.”
Wrong.
His eyes filled with tears and he yelled, “I DO want to know! I WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING!”
Yep. He sure does. My mistake.
So, I told him. I told him sometimes some mommies and daddies use spanking as a punishment instead of timeouts. That it’s hitting when someone has done something naughty.
To which he responded, “It’s not OK to hit.”
“You’re right. It’s not, and that’s why your mommy and daddy made the decision not to spank.” Thinking to myself that some days it is a very difficult proposition.
“What do they spank with? Their hands?”
“Sometimes, and sometimes belts or spoons or something. But you don’t have to worry about it, because your mommy and daddy don’t spank.”
“Right. I’m glad of that, Mama. I don’t think I would like that very much.”
“No, probably not. But you don’t like time outs very much either.”
“No. I don’t like time outs, but at least they don’t hurt.”
“True. Should we brush teeth now?”
“Yes. Thank you for not spanking me.”
“Um, you’re welcome. Thank you for being so awesome.”
“You’re welcome.” He grinned.
It's a Dandy!
After posting this picture of Urban picking the little yellow wonders with his helmut on, Cousin Lexi gifted me this fabulous link to An Herbalist Eats and a recipe for Dandelion Cordial. I, of course, could not resist.
After being delayed by rain for 2 days, I was finally able to head out to the front yard and harvest my bounty. I'm certain the neighbors thought I was nuts as I wandered around the yard with my basket decapitating the things they spend so much time spraying and pulling. But, we're a bit more prairie-minded. We never spray. Heck, we barely mow! ::grin::
So, with my harvest at hand, I retired to my kitchen for the fun part. Brett pitched in like a trooper helping me empty the Captain Morgan's bottle that would soon become the receptacle for the sunny yellow apertif.
The Recipe:
2-3 cups of dandelion heads
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 lemon rind
vodka
I started by funneling the sugar into the bottle. Then I got down to the tedium. You want to get as much of the green bits off the dandelion head as possible. I took a small paring knife and cut the head from the stem and then gently unwrapped the green, leafy bit from the petals. The difficulty lies in that there are, like, a buh-jillian petals and when you "unwrap" them they fall everywhere. So, I did the best I could to scoop them into the bowl.
After doing this to my 2-3 cups worth, I pinched the petals between my fingers and not-so-elegantly shoved them down the neck of the bottle with the butt-end of a sharpie. (Don't worry, it was clean, I'm very professional.) Then I peeled and sliced the lemon, added the vodka and VOILA! a little shaky-shaky every now and then and in 6 weeks we will have cordial. Just in time for a 4th of July BBQ!
I can't wait. A little of this mixed with sparkling water, a slice of fresh lemon and I believe I will be in heaven.
So, if life gives you Dendelions, make Dandelion Cordial!! or dandelion tea or dandelion salad or dandelion tincture or dandelion syrup... shall I go on?
Monday, May 23, 2011
The Family Farewell
I don't remember it being the case in my own family. Maybe I was just to young to remember, but saying goodbye to my husband's extended family is at least an hour-long affair. It starts with the knowing nod across the room. The shared glance that says, "if we don't leave soon, we will have to retrieve Urban from the chandelier." Then we slowly we gather the boys and their stuff, make our way person by person through the family and say goodbye. An hour later, if we're lucky, we're in the car and heading back towards home.
Yesterday, I learned the value of the long goodbye. We attended the anniversary of Brett's Uncle's ordination at a church near the Wisconsin border. It had been storming on and off all day. Urban was soaked to the bone from dancing in and karate chopping the rain drops while jumping in puddles in the parking lot. Beringer was getting restless from having no nap. And the crowd had finally dwindled from a throng to a smattering. Even the accordian player was packing up. We knew it was time to start the farewells. They took a little less time because some of the family had already departed, but it was still a solid half hour of, "See you next time, we're taking off!"
We finally got in the car and headed back to the city. Brett and I were amusing ourselves stealing glances at the boys playing peek-a-boo and singing in the backseat when the semi in front of us on 394 stopped abruptly. We stopped too – a little closer to it's tail lights than I was comfortable with, but we stopped. A couple moments later we we started again, soon driving over a swath of tree debris that cut across the highway. "Weird," I said, "it looks like a tornado went through." Brett rolled his eyes and accused me of being dramatic.
We exited south onto 100, and as we pulled onto the exit that would take us home, we saw a fire truck. Then another. Then some police cars. Then we saw an entire street blocked off. "What is going on?"
We got home, and I tucked the boys (all three) into bed and switched on the television. I was greeted with immediate storm coverage. "The tornado formed just over the intersection of highway 100 and 394 moments ago touching down in Saint Louis Park, then cutting it's way through North Minneapolis..."
Wait. We live in Saint Louis Park. And we were just at the intersection of 394 and 100. Whoa. It all started to sink in. We had been sitting on the highway when the tornado went through. And if it hadn't been for the infamous Kaiser Goodbye, we probably would have been sitting right in its path. I've never been so thankful for the drawn out farewell in my life.
Yesterday, I learned the value of the long goodbye. We attended the anniversary of Brett's Uncle's ordination at a church near the Wisconsin border. It had been storming on and off all day. Urban was soaked to the bone from dancing in and karate chopping the rain drops while jumping in puddles in the parking lot. Beringer was getting restless from having no nap. And the crowd had finally dwindled from a throng to a smattering. Even the accordian player was packing up. We knew it was time to start the farewells. They took a little less time because some of the family had already departed, but it was still a solid half hour of, "See you next time, we're taking off!"
We finally got in the car and headed back to the city. Brett and I were amusing ourselves stealing glances at the boys playing peek-a-boo and singing in the backseat when the semi in front of us on 394 stopped abruptly. We stopped too – a little closer to it's tail lights than I was comfortable with, but we stopped. A couple moments later we we started again, soon driving over a swath of tree debris that cut across the highway. "Weird," I said, "it looks like a tornado went through." Brett rolled his eyes and accused me of being dramatic.
We exited south onto 100, and as we pulled onto the exit that would take us home, we saw a fire truck. Then another. Then some police cars. Then we saw an entire street blocked off. "What is going on?"
We got home, and I tucked the boys (all three) into bed and switched on the television. I was greeted with immediate storm coverage. "The tornado formed just over the intersection of highway 100 and 394 moments ago touching down in Saint Louis Park, then cutting it's way through North Minneapolis..."
Wait. We live in Saint Louis Park. And we were just at the intersection of 394 and 100. Whoa. It all started to sink in. We had been sitting on the highway when the tornado went through. And if it hadn't been for the infamous Kaiser Goodbye, we probably would have been sitting right in its path. I've never been so thankful for the drawn out farewell in my life.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Beware the Mad Cow.
Names are important. I have been an obsessive collector of names for as long as I can remember. As a child, I named everything. Every one of my animals and dolls had a name (and a personality to go with it). So, when it came time for Brett and I to marry, I had a hard time parting with mine – name that is, the personality is pretty well nailed down. My name had been my own for 26 years at that point. Many of those 26 years I spent working through my identity issues, feeling uncomfortable in my name – like it didn't fit me – and then coming into myself in my early 20s and embracing my name as my own. I couldn't fathom suddenly having a new one.
Early in our relationship, very early, Brett and I had gone out to the clubs with a bunch of my friends. (For them to approve of my new beau, of course.) After bar-close we all hopped in a cab and headed to Uptown to our favorite diner for eggs. Mmm... the memory of that greasy smell mixed with cigarette smoke and alcohol still stings my nostrils. We ended up shoulder to shoulder with a table of two men, who we quickly engaged in conversation. They were a couple and had been for years. They were taken with our burgeoning relationship and chatted openly about how to "make it work". By the end of the conversation, we were exchanging names and emails to get together for brunch at a later date. When the younger of the two, a professional go-go dancer by trade, saw our names, he looked meaningfully at us and said, "Sauer and Hudoba? When you get married you simply MUST hyphenate!" We laughed. We were still counting our relationship in weeks and couldn't imagine getting married. More so, we couldn't imagine being saddled with a mouthful of a name like, "Sauer-Hudoba"!
When we did get married, we mutually decided to keep our individual names. It was not a big deal to either of us, though we have discovered it can be a big deal to some. Eventually, we found ourselves welcoming children into the mix. We worked extremely hard to come up with unique and interesting, but solid names for our both of our sons. I spent literally months researching in books, online databases and blogs. (One of my favorites, The Baby Name Wizard, is a wealth of knowledge.) But what would be their last name? We puzzled for a while before recalling the go-go dancer's prophetic declaration, we "simply MUST hyphenate!" So, the first Sauer-Hudoba was born in 2006. Urban Maxwell. We chose his middle name specifically because it could be used as a last name some day. We know that Sauer-Hudoba would not look great on a book jacket or up in lights. Ha!
When number 2 came, we knew his middle name would serve last name duty too, if he so chose. I knew this little man would be the opposite of his brother from the start. Urban is a blond-haired, blue-eyed fireball. Even in the womb, baby #2 was mellower. When he came out olive skinned with dark hair and eyes, I was not shocked in the least. We chose Beringer Tate (outdoorsman, happy) because it is a counterpoint to Urban Maxwell (city-dweller, full of goodness).
Now, in 2011, we refer to our family collectively as the Sauer-Hudobas. (Sauer, a German word, can mean angry. And Hudoba, anglicised from the original Polish Chudoba, means cattle.) So, our family of "mad cows" just keeps pulling more people in. Be warned, we are poising to take over the world! OK, just a little square of world in Bloomington, but still... It's only in the best possible way.
Early in our relationship, very early, Brett and I had gone out to the clubs with a bunch of my friends. (For them to approve of my new beau, of course.) After bar-close we all hopped in a cab and headed to Uptown to our favorite diner for eggs. Mmm... the memory of that greasy smell mixed with cigarette smoke and alcohol still stings my nostrils. We ended up shoulder to shoulder with a table of two men, who we quickly engaged in conversation. They were a couple and had been for years. They were taken with our burgeoning relationship and chatted openly about how to "make it work". By the end of the conversation, we were exchanging names and emails to get together for brunch at a later date. When the younger of the two, a professional go-go dancer by trade, saw our names, he looked meaningfully at us and said, "Sauer and Hudoba? When you get married you simply MUST hyphenate!" We laughed. We were still counting our relationship in weeks and couldn't imagine getting married. More so, we couldn't imagine being saddled with a mouthful of a name like, "Sauer-Hudoba"!
When we did get married, we mutually decided to keep our individual names. It was not a big deal to either of us, though we have discovered it can be a big deal to some. Eventually, we found ourselves welcoming children into the mix. We worked extremely hard to come up with unique and interesting, but solid names for our both of our sons. I spent literally months researching in books, online databases and blogs. (One of my favorites, The Baby Name Wizard, is a wealth of knowledge.) But what would be their last name? We puzzled for a while before recalling the go-go dancer's prophetic declaration, we "simply MUST hyphenate!" So, the first Sauer-Hudoba was born in 2006. Urban Maxwell. We chose his middle name specifically because it could be used as a last name some day. We know that Sauer-Hudoba would not look great on a book jacket or up in lights. Ha!
When number 2 came, we knew his middle name would serve last name duty too, if he so chose. I knew this little man would be the opposite of his brother from the start. Urban is a blond-haired, blue-eyed fireball. Even in the womb, baby #2 was mellower. When he came out olive skinned with dark hair and eyes, I was not shocked in the least. We chose Beringer Tate (outdoorsman, happy) because it is a counterpoint to Urban Maxwell (city-dweller, full of goodness).
Now, in 2011, we refer to our family collectively as the Sauer-Hudobas. (Sauer, a German word, can mean angry. And Hudoba, anglicised from the original Polish Chudoba, means cattle.) So, our family of "mad cows" just keeps pulling more people in. Be warned, we are poising to take over the world! OK, just a little square of world in Bloomington, but still... It's only in the best possible way.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Ready. Set. Go.
This morning I went to http://www.isyourchildready.com/ to take a quiz and see where Urban stacks up in terms of kindergarten readiness. No big shock, he's ready. Too bad he has to wait another year.
I understand that 50% of MN 5-year-olds have not mastered the skills they need to know to enter Kindergarten, and that this site is to encourage those parents and give them the tools they need to help their kids change that. Here is my frustration, however: what about the ones that are not just ready, but more than ready?
I wish that there was a place on this sight where parents like my husband and me could go to find enrichment activities; suggestions for who to talk to in the schools to ensure that, once our child is in school, he will be challenged - even a link on the resources page to the MN Council for the Gifted and Talented would be nice. I have worked hard to find resources on my own, and still I have more questions. I understand that we, as a nation, are working to make sure that "no child is left behind", but, in some ways, I feel like mine is. He needs extra help and special attention too. He is hungry for information and gobbles up new skills and ideas like candy. What is going to happen when he starts school next year reading and doing math calculations - not just with the 50% of kids who aren't "ready", but also with the others who know what they should?
It's hard for me to even write this post because I know that there are people rolling their eyes and thinking, "What is she complaining about? Just shut up and feel lucky that your kid is doing well." All kids are special. I do not disagree with that. Kids are amazing, but each one has special needs and each one should have those needs met. Just like everyone else, all I want is what's best for my kid. I want him to thrive and be happy and live up to his potential.
All that said, I am excited that I found a strong, private pre-K program for him that he will start after we move. He will be learning a Kindergarten curriculum, with a strong art, math and science foundation. We went last night to an open house there. It was a wonderful opportunity for Urban to meet his new teachers and classmates and to see the classroom and playground. They did a scavenger hunt that was a very fun and interesting way for them to assess his skills. He had to count, match colors and shapes, copy letters, match animals to footprints, dig for Egyptian treasure and bounce a ball. He loved it! When we took him outside, he immediately ran and joined a group of boys tearing around the play structure. The director just looked at us and said, "so, he clearly doesn't need me to introduce him to new friends." We smirked.
It's comforting to know that he can make himself at home in new situations – that he can run out and make friends and adapt, even when he is unsure of the situation. That makes me proud. Even Beringer, our little stranger-danger boy, was happy and flirting with the teachers. He actually crawled around the playground a bit. And in the end, neither wanted to leave. Urban was ready to hang out in his new classroom and get down to it. They even offer cooking classes! He will be in heaven.
Education is an important and challenging next step in Urban's young life. Brett and I are his advocates, his guides and his cheerleaders. We chose our new home specifically for the schools and programs that are offered. My greatest hope is that our advocate/guide/cheerleading team grows and grows with every year. It's all we can ask for, really.
I understand that 50% of MN 5-year-olds have not mastered the skills they need to know to enter Kindergarten, and that this site is to encourage those parents and give them the tools they need to help their kids change that. Here is my frustration, however: what about the ones that are not just ready, but more than ready?
I wish that there was a place on this sight where parents like my husband and me could go to find enrichment activities; suggestions for who to talk to in the schools to ensure that, once our child is in school, he will be challenged - even a link on the resources page to the MN Council for the Gifted and Talented would be nice. I have worked hard to find resources on my own, and still I have more questions. I understand that we, as a nation, are working to make sure that "no child is left behind", but, in some ways, I feel like mine is. He needs extra help and special attention too. He is hungry for information and gobbles up new skills and ideas like candy. What is going to happen when he starts school next year reading and doing math calculations - not just with the 50% of kids who aren't "ready", but also with the others who know what they should?
It's hard for me to even write this post because I know that there are people rolling their eyes and thinking, "What is she complaining about? Just shut up and feel lucky that your kid is doing well." All kids are special. I do not disagree with that. Kids are amazing, but each one has special needs and each one should have those needs met. Just like everyone else, all I want is what's best for my kid. I want him to thrive and be happy and live up to his potential.
All that said, I am excited that I found a strong, private pre-K program for him that he will start after we move. He will be learning a Kindergarten curriculum, with a strong art, math and science foundation. We went last night to an open house there. It was a wonderful opportunity for Urban to meet his new teachers and classmates and to see the classroom and playground. They did a scavenger hunt that was a very fun and interesting way for them to assess his skills. He had to count, match colors and shapes, copy letters, match animals to footprints, dig for Egyptian treasure and bounce a ball. He loved it! When we took him outside, he immediately ran and joined a group of boys tearing around the play structure. The director just looked at us and said, "so, he clearly doesn't need me to introduce him to new friends." We smirked.
It's comforting to know that he can make himself at home in new situations – that he can run out and make friends and adapt, even when he is unsure of the situation. That makes me proud. Even Beringer, our little stranger-danger boy, was happy and flirting with the teachers. He actually crawled around the playground a bit. And in the end, neither wanted to leave. Urban was ready to hang out in his new classroom and get down to it. They even offer cooking classes! He will be in heaven.
Education is an important and challenging next step in Urban's young life. Brett and I are his advocates, his guides and his cheerleaders. We chose our new home specifically for the schools and programs that are offered. My greatest hope is that our advocate/guide/cheerleading team grows and grows with every year. It's all we can ask for, really.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
New Inspiration!!
Found this on Ohdeedoh
This I love! I am staring down the barrel of a very large dresser DIY for the boys' room. I was originally thinking big silhouette on a solid background color. But now? Now I am thinking DRAWER CODING!
I am buzzing with this new idea. What do you think of cool, graphic images of undies, socks, shirts and pants to help make the putting-clothes-away chore more fun?
I think it may be really cool to divide the dresser in half with color. (The piece is totally symmetrical with even numbers of drawers on both halves.) Urban can have his orange side and Beringer can have blue or green. Then we bring it all together with charcoal grey clothing graphics. Could be cool.
Hmmm...
Vying for Real Estate
You know, I have never been more thankful of my great relationship with my mother than now as we volley for spots for all of our belongings. It seems so quaint and simple. The first words, "Let's move in together!" Then you stop and think. I have stuff. Brett has stuff. We have stuff together. The boys have their own stuff. We have furniture and dishes and linens. Mom has all that stuff too. Plus, she has family heirlooms; 30+ years of adult, family and marriage accumulation; a husband who was a pack rat (to put it mildly) and 3000+ sq. ft. of furnishings. Our new house is only 2300 sq. ft. What are we going to do with all the stuff? So, the negotiations begin, because for every one thing you agree on there is at least one thing that must be purged. And "at least" is a very loose estimation.
Between our two families we have six couches. SIX! We do not need six couches. This is agreed. But where Brett and I steer pretty modern with our couch styles, Mom is decidedly traditional. OK, let's table the couches and talk about our 3 dining room tables. One can be painted with a more weather hearty finish and put on the three season porch. We can use Mom's round dining table in the dining room by purchasing two more chairs, and our IKEA table will go on Craigslist. There. That's some progress.
Since we're in the dining/kitchen, let's talk about dishes. We have 3 sets of china + another 3 sets of everyday dishes. (Clearly this is a family illness.) OK, Brett and I can sell one set of china and donate our other set of everyday stuff. Most of it came from a garage sales anyway. We keep Grandma Sauer's china from Germany and Mom's wedding dishes. In fact, we can paint the wardrobe that currently houses Mom's TV the same color as the cabinets in the kitchen, add some shelves, and VOILA! a china cabinet! Look at us go.
Room by room we work our way through the sea of stuff, and after each discussion, I run home and add more to the Goodwill pile. Being faced with your accumulation is a sobering thing. I refuse to move anything that we will not use. I refuse to store things "just in case". And especially since we will be moving ourselves in a rental truck. If it's not necessary... it's going to someone else. Craigslist is my new best friend. In fact, if you or someone you know needs something. I may have it. CHEAP! ha!
It feels good to purge the excess, and it is exciting to be surrounded by things from my childhood again – things that will now be decorated with my family's stuff and accented by my family's artwork. It is also thrilling to know that my mom is an integral part of that family again and not just a voice on the other end of the line – that her stuff can mingle with my stuff and Brett's stuff and the boys' stuff and it will all just become our stuff.
Do you want to talk about the couches now? Um, no.
Between our two families we have six couches. SIX! We do not need six couches. This is agreed. But where Brett and I steer pretty modern with our couch styles, Mom is decidedly traditional. OK, let's table the couches and talk about our 3 dining room tables. One can be painted with a more weather hearty finish and put on the three season porch. We can use Mom's round dining table in the dining room by purchasing two more chairs, and our IKEA table will go on Craigslist. There. That's some progress.
Since we're in the dining/kitchen, let's talk about dishes. We have 3 sets of china + another 3 sets of everyday dishes. (Clearly this is a family illness.) OK, Brett and I can sell one set of china and donate our other set of everyday stuff. Most of it came from a garage sales anyway. We keep Grandma Sauer's china from Germany and Mom's wedding dishes. In fact, we can paint the wardrobe that currently houses Mom's TV the same color as the cabinets in the kitchen, add some shelves, and VOILA! a china cabinet! Look at us go.
Room by room we work our way through the sea of stuff, and after each discussion, I run home and add more to the Goodwill pile. Being faced with your accumulation is a sobering thing. I refuse to move anything that we will not use. I refuse to store things "just in case". And especially since we will be moving ourselves in a rental truck. If it's not necessary... it's going to someone else. Craigslist is my new best friend. In fact, if you or someone you know needs something. I may have it. CHEAP! ha!
It feels good to purge the excess, and it is exciting to be surrounded by things from my childhood again – things that will now be decorated with my family's stuff and accented by my family's artwork. It is also thrilling to know that my mom is an integral part of that family again and not just a voice on the other end of the line – that her stuff can mingle with my stuff and Brett's stuff and the boys' stuff and it will all just become our stuff.
Do you want to talk about the couches now? Um, no.
Extreme Parenting
Urban is a marvel to me. If he had a motto I think it would be, "Go big or go home." His energy is boundless and his dialogue incessant. He is hilarious and exhausting and a wonder all at once. His extreme personality that has no "off" switch and has challenged us from day one. By the time he was 3, we looked outside our family for help. Brett and I struggled to stay calm in the face of all this energy. We needed someone to tell us that "this is hard, but you can do it." Family therapy has helped us more than you can imagine.
Urban loves attention. He walks into a room and introduces himself to every person, animal and even a few toys. By the time you've known him for 5 minutes you will surely know his name, our names, his brother's name, his favorite color and food, and that he loves video games and super heroes. Sometimes he reminds me of a spider monkey (with an excellent vocabulary.) One second he's scrabbling on the floor and the next he dangling from a door knob all while reciting his inner monologue.
After a long day of work, I sometimes have to steel myself for his desperate need for my attention every moment. No matter what. I have learned to try to engage him in my tasks. He helps me make dinner. He helps me change the baby. He helps me clean. Sometimes it's amazing. Sometimes it really sucks. Like when I have a one-year-old on my hip spitting and pulling my hair, the last thing I want is a 4-year-old wrapped around my leg jabbering about bad guys. But therapy has helped me, in those moments, to take a deep breath and redirect. It works sometimes. Sometimes I'm short with him and get angry. And sometimes I just roll my eyes.
Yesterday was a big day for Urban. He went non-stop, which he loves, from exciting time with me at work to his favorite class. No nap. No down time. No good. He had a day as near perfect as he can get. He earned 4 stickers. (Major!) And then it disintegrated. Doors slammed. Screams ripped the air. He was mad. And I'm certain no one had moved. Nothing had changed. I stood bewildered and looked at Brett whose eyes flared with the "What the F?" look.
By 7:30 he had woken Beringer with his antics. And Brett and I sat on the couch - the chorus of Glee being drowned out by the chorus of drama bellowing from two separate rooms and two separate brothers. Urban was mad. Beringer was mad. Brett was mad. I was mad. One of us had to take that deep breath and begin the process of bringing everyone down.
I retrieved Beringer to play with Daddy in the living room until Urban settled down. I went into our room and lay down next to Urban. I didn't say a word. He sobbed and howled and thrashed. I still didn't know what even made him so very angry. I wrapped my arms around him and curled my legs under his. He began to mellow. We breathed together in the quiet. I wiped the tears from his face. "Mama?" "Mm-hmm." "Am I horrible?" "No. You're tired. You need to sleep. You had a good day that ended badly. I love you no matter what." "Mama?" "Mm?" "I think tomorrow maybe I should take a nap." "Mm. I think that might be wise."
Urban loves attention. He walks into a room and introduces himself to every person, animal and even a few toys. By the time you've known him for 5 minutes you will surely know his name, our names, his brother's name, his favorite color and food, and that he loves video games and super heroes. Sometimes he reminds me of a spider monkey (with an excellent vocabulary.) One second he's scrabbling on the floor and the next he dangling from a door knob all while reciting his inner monologue.
After a long day of work, I sometimes have to steel myself for his desperate need for my attention every moment. No matter what. I have learned to try to engage him in my tasks. He helps me make dinner. He helps me change the baby. He helps me clean. Sometimes it's amazing. Sometimes it really sucks. Like when I have a one-year-old on my hip spitting and pulling my hair, the last thing I want is a 4-year-old wrapped around my leg jabbering about bad guys. But therapy has helped me, in those moments, to take a deep breath and redirect. It works sometimes. Sometimes I'm short with him and get angry. And sometimes I just roll my eyes.
Yesterday was a big day for Urban. He went non-stop, which he loves, from exciting time with me at work to his favorite class. No nap. No down time. No good. He had a day as near perfect as he can get. He earned 4 stickers. (Major!) And then it disintegrated. Doors slammed. Screams ripped the air. He was mad. And I'm certain no one had moved. Nothing had changed. I stood bewildered and looked at Brett whose eyes flared with the "What the F?" look.
By 7:30 he had woken Beringer with his antics. And Brett and I sat on the couch - the chorus of Glee being drowned out by the chorus of drama bellowing from two separate rooms and two separate brothers. Urban was mad. Beringer was mad. Brett was mad. I was mad. One of us had to take that deep breath and begin the process of bringing everyone down.
I retrieved Beringer to play with Daddy in the living room until Urban settled down. I went into our room and lay down next to Urban. I didn't say a word. He sobbed and howled and thrashed. I still didn't know what even made him so very angry. I wrapped my arms around him and curled my legs under his. He began to mellow. We breathed together in the quiet. I wiped the tears from his face. "Mama?" "Mm-hmm." "Am I horrible?" "No. You're tired. You need to sleep. You had a good day that ended badly. I love you no matter what." "Mama?" "Mm?" "I think tomorrow maybe I should take a nap." "Mm. I think that might be wise."
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
I'm ready for my close up
Urban has decided this was, "like, the best. day. EVER." I guess sometimes having a mommy in advertising has it's perks.
Today he got to come to work with me and participate in a commercial shoot. He was one of 5 kids for an ad for sectionals for Slumberland Furniture that will run in early July. Of course, that wasn't the best part for him. He got to hang out with fun kids and make a new best friend. He got to go to lunch with Mommy and his new friend and have chocolate ice cream for dessert. Then he still got o go to his class at the nature center. Best. Day. Ever.
The highlight for me, though was when he was doing a scene lounging on the couch with his buddy. They were told to tell each other stories. This was Urban's story:
"Once upon a time there was a sausage that ran off into the woods. He ran and ran until a giant gumball fell out of the sky and smashed him. Then another sausage ran off into the woods. His mama said, 'don't go!' but he did anyway, and a giant gumball fell out of the sky and smashed him. Then another sausage ran off into the woods..."
Priceless.
Today he got to come to work with me and participate in a commercial shoot. He was one of 5 kids for an ad for sectionals for Slumberland Furniture that will run in early July. Of course, that wasn't the best part for him. He got to hang out with fun kids and make a new best friend. He got to go to lunch with Mommy and his new friend and have chocolate ice cream for dessert. Then he still got o go to his class at the nature center. Best. Day. Ever.
The highlight for me, though was when he was doing a scene lounging on the couch with his buddy. They were told to tell each other stories. This was Urban's story:
"Once upon a time there was a sausage that ran off into the woods. He ran and ran until a giant gumball fell out of the sky and smashed him. Then another sausage ran off into the woods. His mama said, 'don't go!' but he did anyway, and a giant gumball fell out of the sky and smashed him. Then another sausage ran off into the woods..."
Priceless.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Oldy but a Goody
This story happened when Urban was 3. When I picked him up from daycare he was all agitated. Something had happened in his preschool class. Addison got in trouble, apparently, and this was his description of the crime.
"Mama! Miss Georgia brought a friend to school today!"
"Oh, really?" I say. "Who?"
"A man. But Addison got in big trouble because she popped his head off."
"What?" I flick the rear view mirror down so I can look at him as we pull up to a red light.
"Addison popped his head off."
"She hit him??" I ask, confused.
"No, she popped his head off, and she got a time out."
"She popped his head off? Was he a toy?" I ask.
"No, Mama, a MAN."
"A REAL man?" I squeak, trying to hold back laughter.
"Yes! A person. A real man."
"And Addison popped his head off? That must have been really scary. Were you there when it happened?" I try my best to keep a straight face as I question him. He is clearly very upset by the whole thing.
"No. I was helping Sophie finish the fish puzzle. But Addison got a time out."
"Um, right, because she popped a REAL man's head off."
"Yep."
"Did he have to go to the doctor?" I am so baffled at this point, I decide to play along.
"No."
"Did he need a bandaid?"
"No." (giggles)
"But Addison popped his head off?"
"Yes! What do you think happened to his skin?" (Urban is very fascinated by the human body at how it works.)
"Um, I don't know, but I would think he would need to see a doctor."
(More giggles.) "No. That's silly. He's just a doll, but I'm going to be a doctor someday, so tomorrow I'm going to go to school and help Miss Georgia pop her friend's head back on."
"That's very nice. I'm sure she'll appreciate that." As we pull into the driveway I can't hold back my hysterical laughter anymore, and I dissolve into gleeful tears.
And that is the story of how a 4-year-old girl popped a man's head off. (In case you missed it, the "man" was Ken. Poor guy. He's been through so much since the big breakup.)
"Mama! Miss Georgia brought a friend to school today!"
"Oh, really?" I say. "Who?"
"A man. But Addison got in big trouble because she popped his head off."
"What?" I flick the rear view mirror down so I can look at him as we pull up to a red light.
"Addison popped his head off."
"She hit him??" I ask, confused.
"No, she popped his head off, and she got a time out."
"She popped his head off? Was he a toy?" I ask.
"No, Mama, a MAN."
"A REAL man?" I squeak, trying to hold back laughter.
"Yes! A person. A real man."
"And Addison popped his head off? That must have been really scary. Were you there when it happened?" I try my best to keep a straight face as I question him. He is clearly very upset by the whole thing.
"No. I was helping Sophie finish the fish puzzle. But Addison got a time out."
"Um, right, because she popped a REAL man's head off."
"Yep."
"Did he have to go to the doctor?" I am so baffled at this point, I decide to play along.
"No."
"Did he need a bandaid?"
"No." (giggles)
"But Addison popped his head off?"
"Yes! What do you think happened to his skin?" (Urban is very fascinated by the human body at how it works.)
"Um, I don't know, but I would think he would need to see a doctor."
(More giggles.) "No. That's silly. He's just a doll, but I'm going to be a doctor someday, so tomorrow I'm going to go to school and help Miss Georgia pop her friend's head back on."
"That's very nice. I'm sure she'll appreciate that." As we pull into the driveway I can't hold back my hysterical laughter anymore, and I dissolve into gleeful tears.
And that is the story of how a 4-year-old girl popped a man's head off. (In case you missed it, the "man" was Ken. Poor guy. He's been through so much since the big breakup.)
I made cheese
Moving just isn't enough to occupy my time, apparently. While reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, an incredible read about eating local, my lifelong desire to make cheese was once again pulled to the surface. So, I immediately jumped onto cheesemaking.com and purchased the 30 minute Mozzarella kit. Guess what? It really only takes 30 minutes!
The cheese was delicious. In 30 minutes I made about 1 pound of fresh Mozzarella. While it cooled a bit, I rolled out pizza dough from a Pillsbury package and popped it in the oven for a 5 minute pre-bake. Then I sliced and sautéed onions, green peppers, zucchini and garlic. I threw in some diced, canned tomatoes and fennel, then spread the whole mixture onto the crust. Topped it off with some pepperonis and black olives (for Urban) and a bunch of fresh Mozzarella. 10 minutes later we sat down to a pizza dinner that everyone demolished. It was so good!
I love making cheese. In between boxing up our office and cleaning the 1/2 story this week, I'll definitely be trying my hand at ricotta.
The cheese was delicious. In 30 minutes I made about 1 pound of fresh Mozzarella. While it cooled a bit, I rolled out pizza dough from a Pillsbury package and popped it in the oven for a 5 minute pre-bake. Then I sliced and sautéed onions, green peppers, zucchini and garlic. I threw in some diced, canned tomatoes and fennel, then spread the whole mixture onto the crust. Topped it off with some pepperonis and black olives (for Urban) and a bunch of fresh Mozzarella. 10 minutes later we sat down to a pizza dinner that everyone demolished. It was so good!
I love making cheese. In between boxing up our office and cleaning the 1/2 story this week, I'll definitely be trying my hand at ricotta.
It's the one without the tutu
The other day we were out for a family dinner and Brett took Urban to wash up. Urban marched straight to the men's room and pushed the door open. Brett looked at him and said, "How do you know that's the boys' bathroom?" "Because of the picture," he answered. "But how do you know that one is the boy?" Brett pressed. "Because it's the one without the tutu."
Obviously.
As I sit and try to plan out my interior designs, I'm struggling with the room for my boys. We have made the decision to have them share a room because it seems to help both of them sleep through the night. It does not necessarily help them GET to sleep, I will point out, but as long as we stagger their bedtimes, it's working out pretty well.
So, now I am faced with the design problem of a somewhat-developed little man with lots of ideas, opinions and pizzazz (read: obsessed with monsters, super heroes and 80's rock) rooming with a toddler who is still developing his tastes (currently he likes food and any music with a strong beat). I know that I don't want a theme room in the Cars/Superman/Pooh kind of way. But I do want a fun, cool room for them.
As a family, we tend to decorate with a mish-mash of IKEA and Target finds coupled with antiques and vintage gems. So, I think I want to have the boys' room stylistically similar. Where do I go from here?
While researching I came across this great post from OhDeeDoh called Two's Company: Twenty Shared Kids' Rooms.
Lots of great idea here. So, now I'm thinking maybe I focus on vintage games. I like that it's neutral territory. They both love games, and Daddy's an avid "Gaming Geek". It seems perfect. If I paint the walls a neutral light grey we can use old game boards as art and pick up lots of wonderful colors in the illustrations. I think I'll also do a giant cropped silhouette of a spinner with big numbers in a grey 2 shades darker. We currently have a 1963 version of CLUE, a Raggedy Ann and Andy game, Parcheesi and Candyland. It's a nice start.
I also like the look of this bedding from IKEA. (We will have a twin-over-twin bunk on one side of the room and a twin daybed on the other. Gotta be prepared for sleepovers, right?) This has kind of a cool style that reminds me of game boards and hits our three top accent colors (per Urban) - green, blue and orange.
I will be refreshing my old double dresser from my high school years. (Somehow I think my teenage creativity that translated this piece into black with teal, baby blue and white splatter paint has gone a bit too retro.) I'm thinking of doing it white with a big silhouette of a pawn on it.
The big project will be the rug. I plan to make a felt rug out of thick grey felt and somehow put a hopscotch grid on it in white. Paint? Appliqué? Time will tell.
I hope it all comes together and the boys dig it. It would be so easy if I could just slap up a little graphic on the door (the one without the tutu), print "BOYS" in big block letters and call it good.
Obviously.
As I sit and try to plan out my interior designs, I'm struggling with the room for my boys. We have made the decision to have them share a room because it seems to help both of them sleep through the night. It does not necessarily help them GET to sleep, I will point out, but as long as we stagger their bedtimes, it's working out pretty well.
So, now I am faced with the design problem of a somewhat-developed little man with lots of ideas, opinions and pizzazz (read: obsessed with monsters, super heroes and 80's rock) rooming with a toddler who is still developing his tastes (currently he likes food and any music with a strong beat). I know that I don't want a theme room in the Cars/Superman/Pooh kind of way. But I do want a fun, cool room for them.
As a family, we tend to decorate with a mish-mash of IKEA and Target finds coupled with antiques and vintage gems. So, I think I want to have the boys' room stylistically similar. Where do I go from here?
While researching I came across this great post from OhDeeDoh called Two's Company: Twenty Shared Kids' Rooms.
Lots of great idea here. So, now I'm thinking maybe I focus on vintage games. I like that it's neutral territory. They both love games, and Daddy's an avid "Gaming Geek". It seems perfect. If I paint the walls a neutral light grey we can use old game boards as art and pick up lots of wonderful colors in the illustrations. I think I'll also do a giant cropped silhouette of a spinner with big numbers in a grey 2 shades darker. We currently have a 1963 version of CLUE, a Raggedy Ann and Andy game, Parcheesi and Candyland. It's a nice start.
I also like the look of this bedding from IKEA. (We will have a twin-over-twin bunk on one side of the room and a twin daybed on the other. Gotta be prepared for sleepovers, right?) This has kind of a cool style that reminds me of game boards and hits our three top accent colors (per Urban) - green, blue and orange.
The big project will be the rug. I plan to make a felt rug out of thick grey felt and somehow put a hopscotch grid on it in white. Paint? Appliqué? Time will tell.
I hope it all comes together and the boys dig it. It would be so easy if I could just slap up a little graphic on the door (the one without the tutu), print "BOYS" in big block letters and call it good.
The Beginning
I had a dream a few nights ago that I had lost my way. No one recognized me and I didn't know what had happened to my life. I wandered, talked to people from my past and pieced together the story that someone had stolen a painting from me. I could get my life back if only I could recreate this painting. So I decided to try. But the only way to recreate it was to sit on a couch that was suspended from a crane on top of a 30 story building. My mother sat on one side of the couch and my husband on the other. Any slight move from any of us would send the couch pitching to and fro, endangering our lives and making it difficult to finish the painting. I woke up exhausted.
I keep thinking about that dream as my family begins the arduous task of cleaning out our rental house, packing up our belongings and moving into our new home along with my mother. In the past 5 years my husband, Brett, and I have experienced the birth of two amazing boys - Urban, now 4 1/2 and Beringer, 14 months, life altering changes like unemployment, becoming landlords and then losing our property to short sale, bankruptcy and foreclosure. We moved into a rental home a year and a half ago thinking we would stay for a while, lay low and rebuild. But laying low is not exactly my style, and by fall I had a brainstorm that has led us on this path of inviting my mother into our immediate family and blending our lives to make a creative, fresh start.
My mother has been living alone ever since my father had to move into assisted living for Alzheimer's. She is an hour and a half away from us in a city she has only been living in for 5 years. We wanted to help her find some peace of mind, and she wanted to help us get into a permanent house we could call our own. We sat down with the figures and realized that if she purchased a home with her good credit, Brett and I could pay the mortgage in similar payments to our current rent. She would have some budget relief and we would have another adult in our house to help out with our tireless boys. Once we sit out our credit rebuilding time, we can transfer the mortgage into our names.
We've spent the last 6 months looking for a perfect home - trying to find something that would suit our unique needs. Duplexes were our first thought, but to fit a family of 4 on one side, you end up with far too much for a single person on the other. An existing in-law suite, then? Well, this is easier said than done. We looked at everything from proper apartments to weird little basements with an extra kitchen. Where could we find a place with few stairs - Mom is not great with long climbs - and enough bedrooms, dedicated spaces for a toy room and separate family rooms? We explored the idea of renovating a foreclosure or even just a cheap house, but with our oldest almost in Kindergarten, good schools were imperative too. It was a frustrating and crazy search.
Finally, we found a place that fit most of our criteria. A 4 level split with a bed, bath and sitting room all on the main level and 3 bedrooms upstairs. It is perfect. We'll share kitchen and laundry, but have separate entertainment spaces. There's enough room for the boys to have a toy room, and I'll even get a sewing room! We're so excited to get started.
So, in the coming posts you'll read about our journey to move in, decorate on a tight budget, blend a multi-generational family and live our lives day-to-day. Welcome to the funny farm.
I keep thinking about that dream as my family begins the arduous task of cleaning out our rental house, packing up our belongings and moving into our new home along with my mother. In the past 5 years my husband, Brett, and I have experienced the birth of two amazing boys - Urban, now 4 1/2 and Beringer, 14 months, life altering changes like unemployment, becoming landlords and then losing our property to short sale, bankruptcy and foreclosure. We moved into a rental home a year and a half ago thinking we would stay for a while, lay low and rebuild. But laying low is not exactly my style, and by fall I had a brainstorm that has led us on this path of inviting my mother into our immediate family and blending our lives to make a creative, fresh start.
My mother has been living alone ever since my father had to move into assisted living for Alzheimer's. She is an hour and a half away from us in a city she has only been living in for 5 years. We wanted to help her find some peace of mind, and she wanted to help us get into a permanent house we could call our own. We sat down with the figures and realized that if she purchased a home with her good credit, Brett and I could pay the mortgage in similar payments to our current rent. She would have some budget relief and we would have another adult in our house to help out with our tireless boys. Once we sit out our credit rebuilding time, we can transfer the mortgage into our names.
We've spent the last 6 months looking for a perfect home - trying to find something that would suit our unique needs. Duplexes were our first thought, but to fit a family of 4 on one side, you end up with far too much for a single person on the other. An existing in-law suite, then? Well, this is easier said than done. We looked at everything from proper apartments to weird little basements with an extra kitchen. Where could we find a place with few stairs - Mom is not great with long climbs - and enough bedrooms, dedicated spaces for a toy room and separate family rooms? We explored the idea of renovating a foreclosure or even just a cheap house, but with our oldest almost in Kindergarten, good schools were imperative too. It was a frustrating and crazy search.
Finally, we found a place that fit most of our criteria. A 4 level split with a bed, bath and sitting room all on the main level and 3 bedrooms upstairs. It is perfect. We'll share kitchen and laundry, but have separate entertainment spaces. There's enough room for the boys to have a toy room, and I'll even get a sewing room! We're so excited to get started.
So, in the coming posts you'll read about our journey to move in, decorate on a tight budget, blend a multi-generational family and live our lives day-to-day. Welcome to the funny farm.
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