Okay...I'm moving. I'm setting up camp at wordpress for all of it's fab free features...like now I can tag and categorize and have multiple pages...some of which are not set up yet...so cut me some slack on that.
So here it is: www.cmamarun.wordpress.com
and please change it in your fave's or wherever you keep the link, Graci!
I posted a new entry tonight, and if you need a laugh, you should check it out.
Thanks everyone for all of your support and comments. Stay tuned!
-Chelsea
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
The Rat Race
I was having a lovely dream this morning involving Brad Pitt playing an Olympic diver. I was and "extra" on set and got to stand by him while he was wearing a tiny nothing of a bathing suit....sigh....then Lucas woke up. 6am never seemed so lame. Saying good-bye to Brad, I hauled out of bed to get the babble monster next door.
Oh, these boys, full of hugs in the mornings and by the evening taunting each other to no end. Lately, I feel like I should have a few tape recorders around so I can just hit "play" as I get tired of repeating the same refrain every evening:
"Stop kicking your brother...Lucas, no hit...David, go high if you don't want him to bother you...okay, you are being too loud....AB-SOOO-LUTE-LY NOT, that is unacceptable behavior....."
The absence of Kiel during the day has had the boys and I re-inventing the wheel a bit this week, and I think, is part of the ramped up behavior. I know we'll work it out. It may take another week or two, but we'll get our act together again. We always do.
Oh, these boys, full of hugs in the mornings and by the evening taunting each other to no end. Lately, I feel like I should have a few tape recorders around so I can just hit "play" as I get tired of repeating the same refrain every evening:
"Stop kicking your brother...Lucas, no hit...David, go high if you don't want him to bother you...okay, you are being too loud....AB-SOOO-LUTE-LY NOT, that is unacceptable behavior....."
The absence of Kiel during the day has had the boys and I re-inventing the wheel a bit this week, and I think, is part of the ramped up behavior. I know we'll work it out. It may take another week or two, but we'll get our act together again. We always do.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Not a motorcycle mama-yet.
So I drove into Eagle River Valley this morning with the kids in tow, headed toward the Nature Center for pre-school adventure time. The sun peeked through the heavy drifting clouds and I thought about how many times I'd been down that beautiful road, and how one of my first trips was on a Harley.
Yeah. A Harley. I've been on a motorcycle exactly four times. My first time was on my uncle Shawn's powder blue hog...for a picture only. (Local law had said he couldn't ride it until he put a muffler on-hence the photo op.) I was maybe 15 at the time, it was hot, I was in these remarkably silly black and white plaid shorts, but sitting on that bike was cool, and my tan legs looked great. I decided then that someday I'd ride one. No other motorcycle would do. It had to be a Harley.
Cut to Seward, Alaska, Fourth of July, 1990-my first trip sans parents. Seward is the place to be on the Fourth if you are in Alaska, and back then, all the camping was still in town, so there was party everywhere. It was a hot, sunny day and my friends and I were wandering through the market area. We bashfully went into a stall that had all of this tawdry underwear hanging from the ceiling. Much to my girlfriend's mortification and laughter, I slipped a pair off of the clothesline and laid down a tenner. I said, "I'm gonna wear these the first time I ride a Harley." They were black string bikini's: Harley Honey and a rose graced the rear. I didn't know when, or with who, but I knew they would sit in my drawer until an urban knight showed up to carry me away.
Cut to summer 1991. I come home after work and my dad has a grin on his face. One of his friends just got a new bike and both of them were sitting in our driveway. I made up some excuse to go inside, slip those panties on, and run back out, ready to saddle up. John took me up Eagle River Road. It was awesome, and weird. I mean, a 40 something guy on a touring bike wasn't my initial thought when I purchased those cheap bikini beauties, but, beggars can't be choosers. After that, the panties were free game. They tended to creep, so mostly, they served to remind me of that first ride.
My next ride was on a BMW, which was as smooth, and cool, as the guy who rode it. The fourth and last time I got on a bike was in Cleveland. A smaller bike, and a big man; neither of them took me far.
There is a mystique that accompanies a motorcycle that I still want to be a part of. There is a coolness, a certain confidence that a bike brings...cowboys come to mind, just a different kind of horse is all. My husband talks of his riding days-of the freedom, the open road, the great, and the stupid things he did. He was a single man then. He says he's learned a few things. He talks of when he can get another one, when we can ride together. I've officially said yes, and still, the kids have to be grown. Retirement-it seems, is a long way off. I'd like to sit behind him, my arms wrapped around his waist, and head to the mountains, just to feel the sun, the wind, and the rumble of the wheels underneath the seat. To be in that moment, open, vulnerable, sexy, with the one you love, would be perfect. So, if you come across any panties...let me know, and someday, we'll see you on the road.
Yeah. A Harley. I've been on a motorcycle exactly four times. My first time was on my uncle Shawn's powder blue hog...for a picture only. (Local law had said he couldn't ride it until he put a muffler on-hence the photo op.) I was maybe 15 at the time, it was hot, I was in these remarkably silly black and white plaid shorts, but sitting on that bike was cool, and my tan legs looked great. I decided then that someday I'd ride one. No other motorcycle would do. It had to be a Harley.
Cut to Seward, Alaska, Fourth of July, 1990-my first trip sans parents. Seward is the place to be on the Fourth if you are in Alaska, and back then, all the camping was still in town, so there was party everywhere. It was a hot, sunny day and my friends and I were wandering through the market area. We bashfully went into a stall that had all of this tawdry underwear hanging from the ceiling. Much to my girlfriend's mortification and laughter, I slipped a pair off of the clothesline and laid down a tenner. I said, "I'm gonna wear these the first time I ride a Harley." They were black string bikini's: Harley Honey and a rose graced the rear. I didn't know when, or with who, but I knew they would sit in my drawer until an urban knight showed up to carry me away.
Cut to summer 1991. I come home after work and my dad has a grin on his face. One of his friends just got a new bike and both of them were sitting in our driveway. I made up some excuse to go inside, slip those panties on, and run back out, ready to saddle up. John took me up Eagle River Road. It was awesome, and weird. I mean, a 40 something guy on a touring bike wasn't my initial thought when I purchased those cheap bikini beauties, but, beggars can't be choosers. After that, the panties were free game. They tended to creep, so mostly, they served to remind me of that first ride.
My next ride was on a BMW, which was as smooth, and cool, as the guy who rode it. The fourth and last time I got on a bike was in Cleveland. A smaller bike, and a big man; neither of them took me far.
There is a mystique that accompanies a motorcycle that I still want to be a part of. There is a coolness, a certain confidence that a bike brings...cowboys come to mind, just a different kind of horse is all. My husband talks of his riding days-of the freedom, the open road, the great, and the stupid things he did. He was a single man then. He says he's learned a few things. He talks of when he can get another one, when we can ride together. I've officially said yes, and still, the kids have to be grown. Retirement-it seems, is a long way off. I'd like to sit behind him, my arms wrapped around his waist, and head to the mountains, just to feel the sun, the wind, and the rumble of the wheels underneath the seat. To be in that moment, open, vulnerable, sexy, with the one you love, would be perfect. So, if you come across any panties...let me know, and someday, we'll see you on the road.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Whoa Nellie!
Summer finally arrived in Anchorage this last week. We've waited, not so patiently, for those few brilliant rays to warm our blood before it thickened again for winter. This week's sun has been a welcome treat, a friend come home from a long absence, not forgotten, but fonder for the time apart. It was 68 degrees today, under partly cloudy skies, and it was wonderful.
Personally, the lack of sunshine or blue, blue sky was not what I missed the most. More than anything, I missed the sight of the Chugach Mountains, our local peaks. For most of June and July they have been shrouded in low ceiling clouds...clouds slung out over foothills, grey and monotonous, with no life of their own to delight you. Clouds that refused to rise. Clouds that put their full weight on this city and would not move for days on end. Misery for this girl.
Every morning I'd rise and go to my front window to see my mountains, these simple, unadorned mountains that have always brought me life and happiness. Weeks would go by without seeing their peaks, their undulating valleys, their quite grace. When God decided to air out the grey blanket he'd cloaked us with, I'd feel relieved, sated, better. It was always too short. Even now, in this week of mostly sun, I look at them constantly. Are they still there? Are they the same ones that I fell in love with as a young girl? Yes, and yes, and a sigh of quiet relief slips from my lungs.
What I've learned this summer is that I could never live in Seattle, or the Oregon Coast. I don't know how to fight that greyscale, how to rouse my heart when the sky comes down and doesn't leave you room to breath. I coped by drinking more and more coffee as the dreary summer progressed. Home brew in the morning, then out for Americano's in the afternoon. It's the first time coffee has really been a drug for me-I needed that kick to keep me going. Unfortunately, as much as I love coffee, after a certain point, it stops being my friend and turns me into something resembling Kathleen Turner in the movie Serial Mom...mostly normal, but psychotic if manners, or courtesy are breached. (Yeah, I'll admit my crazy side exists.) I figured this out about a week ago and laid off the afternoon foray, as much as it hurt.
What's that saying though, "The teacher arrives when the student is ready." And so the sun, and thunder and lightening came to my rescue. This last week has seen summer thunderstorms (rare for this town), big, heady, meaningful clouds, flash rains and the clearest skies afterwards. It's been amazing. Really amazing. And to top it off, my friend Lisa (living in Illinois) sent me fresh homegrown sweet corn today-something that brings back memories of summer in Nebraska, and my childhood every time. Thanks babe-your thoughtfullness iced this week's cake, making it even more delicious and lovely than it's been. I owe you big time.
Personally, the lack of sunshine or blue, blue sky was not what I missed the most. More than anything, I missed the sight of the Chugach Mountains, our local peaks. For most of June and July they have been shrouded in low ceiling clouds...clouds slung out over foothills, grey and monotonous, with no life of their own to delight you. Clouds that refused to rise. Clouds that put their full weight on this city and would not move for days on end. Misery for this girl.
Every morning I'd rise and go to my front window to see my mountains, these simple, unadorned mountains that have always brought me life and happiness. Weeks would go by without seeing their peaks, their undulating valleys, their quite grace. When God decided to air out the grey blanket he'd cloaked us with, I'd feel relieved, sated, better. It was always too short. Even now, in this week of mostly sun, I look at them constantly. Are they still there? Are they the same ones that I fell in love with as a young girl? Yes, and yes, and a sigh of quiet relief slips from my lungs.
What I've learned this summer is that I could never live in Seattle, or the Oregon Coast. I don't know how to fight that greyscale, how to rouse my heart when the sky comes down and doesn't leave you room to breath. I coped by drinking more and more coffee as the dreary summer progressed. Home brew in the morning, then out for Americano's in the afternoon. It's the first time coffee has really been a drug for me-I needed that kick to keep me going. Unfortunately, as much as I love coffee, after a certain point, it stops being my friend and turns me into something resembling Kathleen Turner in the movie Serial Mom...mostly normal, but psychotic if manners, or courtesy are breached. (Yeah, I'll admit my crazy side exists.) I figured this out about a week ago and laid off the afternoon foray, as much as it hurt.
What's that saying though, "The teacher arrives when the student is ready." And so the sun, and thunder and lightening came to my rescue. This last week has seen summer thunderstorms (rare for this town), big, heady, meaningful clouds, flash rains and the clearest skies afterwards. It's been amazing. Really amazing. And to top it off, my friend Lisa (living in Illinois) sent me fresh homegrown sweet corn today-something that brings back memories of summer in Nebraska, and my childhood every time. Thanks babe-your thoughtfullness iced this week's cake, making it even more delicious and lovely than it's been. I owe you big time.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Camping: Eklutna: June 08
Baby cries, mom sighs
and mummy bag adds a third
Owl calls long and loud
Haiku. 5-7-5. How can I capture this moment? A snapshot of my night counted syllabically on fingertips....
That is what rumbled around my head from about 3-4:30 am while the boys slept peacefully all around me, and the owl made it's second round of the morning through the campground. The kids with the gym whistle finally stopped at 11pm. The baby woke at 1am along with the owl. David had already made his way into my bag and Lucas followed. There is nothing like a howling baby in the dead of night, in a tent, at a crowded campground. Hmmmm. Good times.
To be fair, there were some tender moments between Lucas and I as he listened to the bird, then the airplane, and then a late night diesel engine rumbling by. Several times he looked up at me with a clear, intense gaze, while his fat cheek pressed against the warm sleeping bag. Occasionally, he'd reach out and touch my face, as if to see if he was really awake. A few minutes before he fell asleep, he sat part way up, looked close and deep into my eyes, spoke something profoundly intelligible (to him), leaned in for a kiss, sighed, and fell quietly to his dreams. That moment alone was worth the cold, the noisy owl and the snores coming from everyone but me.
and mummy bag adds a third
Owl calls long and loud
Haiku. 5-7-5. How can I capture this moment? A snapshot of my night counted syllabically on fingertips....
That is what rumbled around my head from about 3-4:30 am while the boys slept peacefully all around me, and the owl made it's second round of the morning through the campground. The kids with the gym whistle finally stopped at 11pm. The baby woke at 1am along with the owl. David had already made his way into my bag and Lucas followed. There is nothing like a howling baby in the dead of night, in a tent, at a crowded campground. Hmmmm. Good times.
To be fair, there were some tender moments between Lucas and I as he listened to the bird, then the airplane, and then a late night diesel engine rumbling by. Several times he looked up at me with a clear, intense gaze, while his fat cheek pressed against the warm sleeping bag. Occasionally, he'd reach out and touch my face, as if to see if he was really awake. A few minutes before he fell asleep, he sat part way up, looked close and deep into my eyes, spoke something profoundly intelligible (to him), leaned in for a kiss, sighed, and fell quietly to his dreams. That moment alone was worth the cold, the noisy owl and the snores coming from everyone but me.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Too cold for words
Well, I'm not crazy for complaining about the weather! Check this out....more later, when I warm up.
http://www.adn.com/life/story/473786.html
http://www.adn.com/life/story/473786.html
Friday, July 4, 2008
Sabbatical
Sabbatical as defined by Webster's is: "A period of rest that occurs in regular cycles." Originally referencing the seven year interval of rest in which Hebrew law required land to go unplanted and the forgiveness of unpaid debts, sabbatical as we think of it now, often means a year long break from professional duties.* Well, this mommy can't take a year off, but I did allow myself to let some thing go untended for the last month....this blog, my running schedule, library story time, and to some extent, the endless housework.
A combination of flying solo the first two weeks in June while Kiel was in Fairbanks and the return of dad into our 24/7 life spurred this mini-vacay from our routine. I put out the ultimatum this week though, that things had to get back on course for the sanity of all involved-particularly, me.
Flying solo went well this year. The boys and I had fun on play dates, going to the zoo, and biking to our local parks. Oh, and we played a lot of Frisbee golf. David, I am proud to say vastly improved his throw during the 2 weeks dad was gone. He now says that, "Frisbee golf is one of my favorite places to go!" I was able to improve enough to play two of my best games ever when Kiel came back, scoring my first 3 over par on our local course, which is 2-3 strokes off of my average. The women's record is 2 under par, so I have a ways to go. I figure if I can par it, then I'll enter competitive play.
Kiel's return from Fairbanks was met with delight all around. The boys missed him a lot this year, and I did too towards the end. I like my quiet time in the evenings to be sure, but it is nice to have someone to share that with too. After a week of daily home life, Kiel looked across the dinner table and declared this profound revelation, "It's really hard to plan activities when Lucas takes two naps a day." The welcome-to-my-life look he received prompted this follow up response, "Oh. You probably already knew that. I feel a blog coming on about this already." His second revelation came yesterday after lunch:
"So, what's on the schedule for the rest of the day. We already went to the library, what should we do next?"
"Well, Honey, sometimes we do this thing called clean-up-the-house. Once Lucas is down, I play a game with David, then I clean something afterwards. There is laundry, dishes, bathrooms, garage..."
"Oh. Yeah. Okay."
Oh, the joys of having someone else experience your life for awhile.
It's all good, and by the end of summer, I predict he'll be glad to get back to work. Right now though, we are really enjoying watching our boys grow.
David is reading well enough to pick up new books and read them outright, as well as real world reading when we are out and about. He is also getting better at using manners unprompted, trying new things, and exploring his social side at the playground. Lucas is running and climbing and trying to do everything his brother does. He is sleeping better, learning to self feed, and acquiring new skills all the time. Lucas has already entered the tantrum stage-so we are dealing with that a little earlier than expected. He's always been an opinionated kid and I fully expected to be having some battles, just not quite this early. We'll get through.
My good friend Karen was up to visit her family and stayed a night with us early last month. Tekle and Ikenna will be coming in the next two weeks, and Liz and her girls will be here at the same time. (It's nice to have friends whose parents still live here!) It will be great to see them all and have the kids get re-acquainted. The yard looks great, the flowers are finally blooming a bit and if we could eek out a bit more sun, we might get strawberries and look a little less pasty in another two weeks. Sweet!
* Websters New World Dictionary, Second Edition, 1986, pg. 1250
A combination of flying solo the first two weeks in June while Kiel was in Fairbanks and the return of dad into our 24/7 life spurred this mini-vacay from our routine. I put out the ultimatum this week though, that things had to get back on course for the sanity of all involved-particularly, me.
Flying solo went well this year. The boys and I had fun on play dates, going to the zoo, and biking to our local parks. Oh, and we played a lot of Frisbee golf. David, I am proud to say vastly improved his throw during the 2 weeks dad was gone. He now says that, "Frisbee golf is one of my favorite places to go!" I was able to improve enough to play two of my best games ever when Kiel came back, scoring my first 3 over par on our local course, which is 2-3 strokes off of my average. The women's record is 2 under par, so I have a ways to go. I figure if I can par it, then I'll enter competitive play.
Kiel's return from Fairbanks was met with delight all around. The boys missed him a lot this year, and I did too towards the end. I like my quiet time in the evenings to be sure, but it is nice to have someone to share that with too. After a week of daily home life, Kiel looked across the dinner table and declared this profound revelation, "It's really hard to plan activities when Lucas takes two naps a day." The welcome-to-my-life look he received prompted this follow up response, "Oh. You probably already knew that. I feel a blog coming on about this already." His second revelation came yesterday after lunch:
"So, what's on the schedule for the rest of the day. We already went to the library, what should we do next?"
"Well, Honey, sometimes we do this thing called clean-up-the-house. Once Lucas is down, I play a game with David, then I clean something afterwards. There is laundry, dishes, bathrooms, garage..."
"Oh. Yeah. Okay."
Oh, the joys of having someone else experience your life for awhile.
It's all good, and by the end of summer, I predict he'll be glad to get back to work. Right now though, we are really enjoying watching our boys grow.
David is reading well enough to pick up new books and read them outright, as well as real world reading when we are out and about. He is also getting better at using manners unprompted, trying new things, and exploring his social side at the playground. Lucas is running and climbing and trying to do everything his brother does. He is sleeping better, learning to self feed, and acquiring new skills all the time. Lucas has already entered the tantrum stage-so we are dealing with that a little earlier than expected. He's always been an opinionated kid and I fully expected to be having some battles, just not quite this early. We'll get through.
My good friend Karen was up to visit her family and stayed a night with us early last month. Tekle and Ikenna will be coming in the next two weeks, and Liz and her girls will be here at the same time. (It's nice to have friends whose parents still live here!) It will be great to see them all and have the kids get re-acquainted. The yard looks great, the flowers are finally blooming a bit and if we could eek out a bit more sun, we might get strawberries and look a little less pasty in another two weeks. Sweet!
* Websters New World Dictionary, Second Edition, 1986, pg. 1250
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Magic Bullets II
One of the things I like best about being a Domestic Diva is that you can wield awesome power phrases like "New Rule" and "It's Tradition" at will. Having these two phrases in your daily arsenal is like having John Wayne and Clint Eastwood getting your back. You don't mess with the Diva when she's whipping these babies out. Once in awhile, I give my husband a head's up before instituting a New Rule, and if I'm feeling really good, he gets a choice of options, for a New Tradition. Once, he tried to make his own New Rule and I laughed out loud at his lack of vocal conviction and fortitude. You don't pull these bad boys out unless you can stand behind them.
When I left the workforce as a full time drone, I discovered the power of instituting "New Rules". I think I was mostly trying to come to grips with my new 24/7 reality, where previously, rules might be suggested and not really enforced. As the first few months shaped my inner Diva I often found myself increasing my vocal range as I lectured the fam: "New Rule: We always rinse our ice cream bowls! New Rule: We don't scream with delight while running down the hallway in our underpants until after 8am! New Rule: If either one of us hasn't showered in the last day...forget about it!" It worked. NR's wer my new BFF's. Three years later, I can honestly say that the quantity of NR's has decreased, though I have had to revisit a few of them: "Um, remember the rule about mommy needing coffee before anyone speaks in the morning?" I'd like to think that my family has finally recognized my supreme Diva wisdom; what's more likely though, is that they behave so that the Crazy Diva stays on vacation.
"It's Tradition!" (BTW, this must be said with the most perky voice you can muster) is another great tool afforded to the Diva. I'm not talking about being traditional in a red plaid sort of way, but of introducing those lovely get out of jail Diva gems called family traditions. In our house, we have one that is firmly entrenched: Popcorn Sunday's. This means that every Sunday we have popcorn for dinner. Lots of it. I carry this one over from my mom. Her mom had Sandwich Sunday's. Can you see the beauty of either one? Because I think that pizza should be it's own food group, I'm slowly sneaking in Pizza Saturday's (also from dear ol' mom). And the other one I declared this year is: Frisbee Golf Mother's Day, in which no one has to get dressed up, eat out, wait in line, or fight over jello salad at the buffet. I'd love nothing more than a deserted course, my family, and nine baskets of fun for Mother's day. (Okay boys, this Diva is sending a big hint your way....) What traditions do for me is get rid of the meal planning, event planning, and day to day life planning that I endlessly do. Traditions also help moderate expectations and are great for creating consistency, which means this Diva doesn't have to contingency plan either. Score!
Now, I'm a gal that works well with rules. I like things defined and orderly and so all of the above works for me. It wouldn't however, unless I tempered it all with a healthy dose of love. I think me and the fam are on to bigger and better things, but I'll retain users privleges on these babies for awhile yet. After all, A Diva is not a Diva without a few magic bullets up her sleeve.
When I left the workforce as a full time drone, I discovered the power of instituting "New Rules". I think I was mostly trying to come to grips with my new 24/7 reality, where previously, rules might be suggested and not really enforced. As the first few months shaped my inner Diva I often found myself increasing my vocal range as I lectured the fam: "New Rule: We always rinse our ice cream bowls! New Rule: We don't scream with delight while running down the hallway in our underpants until after 8am! New Rule: If either one of us hasn't showered in the last day...forget about it!" It worked. NR's wer my new BFF's. Three years later, I can honestly say that the quantity of NR's has decreased, though I have had to revisit a few of them: "Um, remember the rule about mommy needing coffee before anyone speaks in the morning?" I'd like to think that my family has finally recognized my supreme Diva wisdom; what's more likely though, is that they behave so that the Crazy Diva stays on vacation.
"It's Tradition!" (BTW, this must be said with the most perky voice you can muster) is another great tool afforded to the Diva. I'm not talking about being traditional in a red plaid sort of way, but of introducing those lovely get out of jail Diva gems called family traditions. In our house, we have one that is firmly entrenched: Popcorn Sunday's. This means that every Sunday we have popcorn for dinner. Lots of it. I carry this one over from my mom. Her mom had Sandwich Sunday's. Can you see the beauty of either one? Because I think that pizza should be it's own food group, I'm slowly sneaking in Pizza Saturday's (also from dear ol' mom). And the other one I declared this year is: Frisbee Golf Mother's Day, in which no one has to get dressed up, eat out, wait in line, or fight over jello salad at the buffet. I'd love nothing more than a deserted course, my family, and nine baskets of fun for Mother's day. (Okay boys, this Diva is sending a big hint your way....) What traditions do for me is get rid of the meal planning, event planning, and day to day life planning that I endlessly do. Traditions also help moderate expectations and are great for creating consistency, which means this Diva doesn't have to contingency plan either. Score!
Now, I'm a gal that works well with rules. I like things defined and orderly and so all of the above works for me. It wouldn't however, unless I tempered it all with a healthy dose of love. I think me and the fam are on to bigger and better things, but I'll retain users privleges on these babies for awhile yet. After all, A Diva is not a Diva without a few magic bullets up her sleeve.
Monday, May 19, 2008
The Note
There are two separate topics for blogs running around my head, but I can't help putting those off in favor of someone else's words tonight. They are just too rich and yummy to keep all to myself. My lovely Kiel thought of me when he found this tasty morsel. Oh, to re-live the days of giddy delight and anticipation of New Love's sweetness, with letter O's mysteriously shape-shifting into hearts, and Post Scripts detailing the most important message in the world. Young love. Infatuation. Heartsickness. Whatever you call it, and however embarrassing it might be to you now, it is a sweet thing to recall.
5/7/08
4:27 pm
SL
My love has grown for you
over the past 2 weeks. I'm
deeply dedicated to you now. I'm
going to love you until the
day I die, no matter what happens.
Now I realize that your much
more than a friend. We were
destined to be together from day 1, and we
both know that were soul mates [smiley face].
One day I {am going to} WILL marry you. [smiley face]
(am going to is crossed out and replaced with a very dark "will")
I LOVE YOU !
P.S.
That day in the practice room,
when we first kissed...I knew
we were going to be together
for a very long time [heart]
-B [heart]
We should all write one of these to our favorite honey and remind them that age, wrinkles, babies, and time, cannot extinguish that ardent desire we once had. C'mon, you know you've still got it in you.
THE NOTE
Set-up: Yellow Steno note paper, uneven tear at the top, dated and timed (which cracked me up), recipient name in large passable cursive across the whole top line, the body electric, in neat print, signed in cursive with a heart after her name....all names will be omitted to protect the innocent, spelling is all hers, and my text will be parenthesized.5/7/08
4:27 pm
SL
My love has grown for you
over the past 2 weeks. I'm
deeply dedicated to you now. I'm
going to love you until the
day I die, no matter what happens.
Now I realize that your much
more than a friend. We were
destined to be together from day 1, and we
both know that were soul mates [smiley face].
One day I {am going to} WILL marry you. [smiley face]
(am going to is crossed out and replaced with a very dark "will")
I LOVE YOU !
P.S.
That day in the practice room,
when we first kissed...I knew
we were going to be together
for a very long time [heart]
-B [heart]
We should all write one of these to our favorite honey and remind them that age, wrinkles, babies, and time, cannot extinguish that ardent desire we once had. C'mon, you know you've still got it in you.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Thank You
Been going through some personal stuff lately. Mostly, I've been unsatisfied with the state of my life as far as my physical and emotional health. I've been lazy about fixing either and have relied on a few friends to help me through this time. I owe a big thank you to everyone that has listened to me crab about not being in shape and encouraged me to find a way to make it happen, and a bigger thank you to those who have patiently listened to the boring monologues about my life without slapping me silly. Sometimes it's the forest for the trees, right?
I am happy to say that my new workout routine has me feeling more fit, energized, and confident. Bring on the sunshine and lets get out and play!
The spiritual/emotional issues at hand will take some fine tuning, and I feel ready for the challenge. We are all a work in progress and work is the operative word most of the time. It is both scary and exciting to move out of a particular comfort zone and change behaviors that have become all too familiar. Two fabulous friends have told me that "you can't change the way other people are, you can only change yourself" (paraphrased) and it's taken me almost 35 years to really understand that. This month brings another year to my life; I pray it is one that shows some much needed growth in the areas of love, grace, and respect-for myself, and those that I hope to remain close to for life. You, my friends and family, are precious beyond words. Without you, there would be no Chelsea Dawn, so thank you a hundred times over for your faithful presence and gentle guidance in my life.
I am happy to say that my new workout routine has me feeling more fit, energized, and confident. Bring on the sunshine and lets get out and play!
The spiritual/emotional issues at hand will take some fine tuning, and I feel ready for the challenge. We are all a work in progress and work is the operative word most of the time. It is both scary and exciting to move out of a particular comfort zone and change behaviors that have become all too familiar. Two fabulous friends have told me that "you can't change the way other people are, you can only change yourself" (paraphrased) and it's taken me almost 35 years to really understand that. This month brings another year to my life; I pray it is one that shows some much needed growth in the areas of love, grace, and respect-for myself, and those that I hope to remain close to for life. You, my friends and family, are precious beyond words. Without you, there would be no Chelsea Dawn, so thank you a hundred times over for your faithful presence and gentle guidance in my life.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Lucas Reilly
Lucas is walking! He's been hovering in the almost walking zone for a few weeks, but really started to walk for locomotion, not just practice, about 5 days ago. This means that my prediction that he'd be walking at 10 months was true. (Yeah for Mom!) He's now eleven months and has started to pick up the pace a bit already. He does his best barefoot of course, his little toes gripping the floor as he moves along, but even in his new sporty Vans he's getting around. He protested their existence at first, but he's already learned that once mom has her mind made up there is little use in complaining.
It's a big thing this walking business. I'm loving it, he's loving it and David is running for cover when he needs too. We've taught David to "go high" when he wants some space from the ever attentive and affectionate Baby Monster. So David keeps company with his dinosaurs and new V-tech computer that Bart gave him in the window seat quite often. It's better than hitting Lucas or knocking him over or hearing them whine at each other. The window seat is David's place, so when Lucas gets to visit, he is just ecstatic.
Speaking of ecstasy, Lucas has three things he is in love with right now. The broom, the swiffer mop, and the dishwasher. I had to put the broom in another closet because he was licking it way too much for my comfort. Ever since he could crawl he has loved the broom. He did and does chase me around when I sweep trying to catch it or disrupt the pile of dirt it creates. I used to play defense with my leg to keep him at bay; now I'm just fast. The swiffer mop is lighter and cleaner (as I remove the disposable dust thing) and it's a close second to the broom. If the pantry door opens he is there rooting around for it. He wields it like a knight's lance or javelin depending on his mood. Now that he can stand, he yells with utter delight, handle in hand, one foot off the floor, ready for action. Then there is the dishwasher. Ohhhh the delight of the dishwasher. At first, it was the soap dispenser...Hey this opens and closes. Then came the bottom rack...Hey, I can move this in and out and pull things out of here. Then the ultimate discovery: If no one is looking, I can spread eagle face down on the door and lick that cool, cool plastic. Ohhh, it's just heavenly.
He's still in the mouth-as-primary-sensory-unit stage, so it's only natural that the dishwasher door, broom and swiffer should be licked. What else is it there for? When removed from these beloved items he protests like you've just chastised him for some wrongdoing. It cracks me up, these utilitarian love affairs. I can only hope that his infatuation will stick around through his teenage years, when he can put them to use as intended, and wonder what will come next.
It's a big thing this walking business. I'm loving it, he's loving it and David is running for cover when he needs too. We've taught David to "go high" when he wants some space from the ever attentive and affectionate Baby Monster. So David keeps company with his dinosaurs and new V-tech computer that Bart gave him in the window seat quite often. It's better than hitting Lucas or knocking him over or hearing them whine at each other. The window seat is David's place, so when Lucas gets to visit, he is just ecstatic.
Speaking of ecstasy, Lucas has three things he is in love with right now. The broom, the swiffer mop, and the dishwasher. I had to put the broom in another closet because he was licking it way too much for my comfort. Ever since he could crawl he has loved the broom. He did and does chase me around when I sweep trying to catch it or disrupt the pile of dirt it creates. I used to play defense with my leg to keep him at bay; now I'm just fast. The swiffer mop is lighter and cleaner (as I remove the disposable dust thing) and it's a close second to the broom. If the pantry door opens he is there rooting around for it. He wields it like a knight's lance or javelin depending on his mood. Now that he can stand, he yells with utter delight, handle in hand, one foot off the floor, ready for action. Then there is the dishwasher. Ohhhh the delight of the dishwasher. At first, it was the soap dispenser...Hey this opens and closes. Then came the bottom rack...Hey, I can move this in and out and pull things out of here. Then the ultimate discovery: If no one is looking, I can spread eagle face down on the door and lick that cool, cool plastic. Ohhh, it's just heavenly.
He's still in the mouth-as-primary-sensory-unit stage, so it's only natural that the dishwasher door, broom and swiffer should be licked. What else is it there for? When removed from these beloved items he protests like you've just chastised him for some wrongdoing. It cracks me up, these utilitarian love affairs. I can only hope that his infatuation will stick around through his teenage years, when he can put them to use as intended, and wonder what will come next.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
four years in the making
The boy turns four on Wednesday. Four years in the making and he's turning out better than I could have imagined. Sometimes it seems like I remember every second of the last four years and others, well, find me projecting a year ahead, to kindergarten, and the incredible loss I will feel. He'll stop being my superkid sidekick and start moving in the world as his own independent person. It's a belly-tumbling feeling I have about this. I grow nervous for him, his safety, and his tender heart while being acutely aware that he must learn to fly on his own.
We take small steps already. Lately, when David goes to gym class, I wait a few minutes, then take the baby and go get coffee. I've been leaving more often, knowing that it's me that needs to get comfortable with this separation. Last week, he got scared and cried at the make-believe bear that jumped out from behind the mats. I found this out afterward from the teacher that shelters him in her own sweet way. I felt guilty that I wasn't there to calm his beating heart and grateful that someone else could. I know that there will be more heartstopping moments in his life that are bigger and more significant than make-believe bears. I'll count myself fortunate to hear of them via a second-hand account, and I know that some will go unmentioned, un-named.
It's a daunting thought, this nagging question: have I done enough to prepare him for the world outside my reach? Have I done enough? At night I pray with him. I thank God for the gift of him, for his tender heart, for his kind spirit, his strong mind and body. I pray these things out loud so David knows that this is how I see him and what I hope for his future. I love him for his sensitivity and still, I try to shore it up, to encourage toughness as a virtue. I so don't want him to be the one that gets picked on. It's a fine line to walk as a parent...when to push, when to hold, when to let him find his own way.
I held him this morning on the sofa. As we talked about the coming year, I could already feel the creeping pangs of loss for his little boy smile; a smile that remains innocent of the cruelty and emotional perils that childhood can bring. Already, I grieve his eminent understanding that the world is not always good and kind. He's my son, my lovely and adored son and he begins to move beyond me. Four years old. Four years of teaching and learning and growing and loving for both of us. They are not wanton or lean years. They have been full and well lived, and I will tuck their sweet memory inside my heart as gentle reminders for all the changes that will surely come.
We take small steps already. Lately, when David goes to gym class, I wait a few minutes, then take the baby and go get coffee. I've been leaving more often, knowing that it's me that needs to get comfortable with this separation. Last week, he got scared and cried at the make-believe bear that jumped out from behind the mats. I found this out afterward from the teacher that shelters him in her own sweet way. I felt guilty that I wasn't there to calm his beating heart and grateful that someone else could. I know that there will be more heartstopping moments in his life that are bigger and more significant than make-believe bears. I'll count myself fortunate to hear of them via a second-hand account, and I know that some will go unmentioned, un-named.
It's a daunting thought, this nagging question: have I done enough to prepare him for the world outside my reach? Have I done enough? At night I pray with him. I thank God for the gift of him, for his tender heart, for his kind spirit, his strong mind and body. I pray these things out loud so David knows that this is how I see him and what I hope for his future. I love him for his sensitivity and still, I try to shore it up, to encourage toughness as a virtue. I so don't want him to be the one that gets picked on. It's a fine line to walk as a parent...when to push, when to hold, when to let him find his own way.
I held him this morning on the sofa. As we talked about the coming year, I could already feel the creeping pangs of loss for his little boy smile; a smile that remains innocent of the cruelty and emotional perils that childhood can bring. Already, I grieve his eminent understanding that the world is not always good and kind. He's my son, my lovely and adored son and he begins to move beyond me. Four years old. Four years of teaching and learning and growing and loving for both of us. They are not wanton or lean years. They have been full and well lived, and I will tuck their sweet memory inside my heart as gentle reminders for all the changes that will surely come.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Heebie-Jeebies
Well, it seems that spring may finally be here. We hit 45-48 degrees today depending on where you were and boy did it feel good. I counted several people breaking out their capri's and flip-flops even...a little early perhaps, but up here, we take what we can get. The sun felt great and the people I came across seemed happier than normal.
After spending the morning with the family, I headed out for an afternoon off from my domestic diva life. Those of you who know me well, know that I have a particular loathing for public restrooms.-any toilet that is not my own really. When I was a kid you I could pretty reliably tell you where the bathroom was in any restaurant, grocery store or mall. Even if I hadn't been there, I had this uncanny knack at sussing them out. I remember once eating out with my family and someone asked where the bathroom was. My aunt Ro said "Ask Chelsea, she always knows where they are." I was five.
I still keep track of them in my head, but more to avoid them than anything else. Today at the grocery store, I had to pee. I tried to rationalize that I could wait, but I knew it was inevitable. Why didn't I go at the cafe? I mentally kicked myself and headed down the dim hallway goosebumps and all. There was paper on the floor when I walked in-never a good sign. I could see that the first stall-my usual pick- had tp all over the floor so I reluctantly moved past and found the last stall open. This one had tp on the floor too, but at least not where I had to stand. Now, when I go in a stall, I try to touch as little as possible. This door was out to get me. The first lock was broken and the second lock was one that you had to pick up and slide over to secure it. (sigh) Finally sealed in my metal cubicle I got down to business. I NEVER sit...EVER, EVER, EVER....I have mastered the art of "The Hover" and it works for me. Don't even bother me with seat covers-that is just more stuff to touch, and line up, and why would I take the time? Ick. Ick. Ick. Anyway, I'm doing my thing and I realize that there is this smell permeating the air...not a bodily function smell (thankfully) but a sickly sweet, minty gum smell...like they thought if they pumped Doublemint gum scent into the bathroom it would cover-up all the other problems? Oh my. Okay, Done. Let's go. I never touch the flusher. Feet only. If it's a push-button thing; I walk away. I just can't bring myself to do it. You can imagine what it looks like to take my kids in-mostly it involves them looking like they are in a hold-up-I make them keep their hands in the air the whole time; but that's another blog entirely.
I still had a good day, and great time off, even with the latrine ordeal. And I learned something along the way: I'll never use that one again. Ever.
After spending the morning with the family, I headed out for an afternoon off from my domestic diva life. Those of you who know me well, know that I have a particular loathing for public restrooms.-any toilet that is not my own really. When I was a kid you I could pretty reliably tell you where the bathroom was in any restaurant, grocery store or mall. Even if I hadn't been there, I had this uncanny knack at sussing them out. I remember once eating out with my family and someone asked where the bathroom was. My aunt Ro said "Ask Chelsea, she always knows where they are." I was five.
I still keep track of them in my head, but more to avoid them than anything else. Today at the grocery store, I had to pee. I tried to rationalize that I could wait, but I knew it was inevitable. Why didn't I go at the cafe? I mentally kicked myself and headed down the dim hallway goosebumps and all. There was paper on the floor when I walked in-never a good sign. I could see that the first stall-my usual pick- had tp all over the floor so I reluctantly moved past and found the last stall open. This one had tp on the floor too, but at least not where I had to stand. Now, when I go in a stall, I try to touch as little as possible. This door was out to get me. The first lock was broken and the second lock was one that you had to pick up and slide over to secure it. (sigh) Finally sealed in my metal cubicle I got down to business. I NEVER sit...EVER, EVER, EVER....I have mastered the art of "The Hover" and it works for me. Don't even bother me with seat covers-that is just more stuff to touch, and line up, and why would I take the time? Ick. Ick. Ick. Anyway, I'm doing my thing and I realize that there is this smell permeating the air...not a bodily function smell (thankfully) but a sickly sweet, minty gum smell...like they thought if they pumped Doublemint gum scent into the bathroom it would cover-up all the other problems? Oh my. Okay, Done. Let's go. I never touch the flusher. Feet only. If it's a push-button thing; I walk away. I just can't bring myself to do it. You can imagine what it looks like to take my kids in-mostly it involves them looking like they are in a hold-up-I make them keep their hands in the air the whole time; but that's another blog entirely.
I still had a good day, and great time off, even with the latrine ordeal. And I learned something along the way: I'll never use that one again. Ever.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Costco take me away...
A few years ago I said, "Calgon, take me away!" to an early twentysomething during a particularly harried day at work. Miss Perky just gave me a blank look. "You don't know Calgon? You know, the bath stuff from the TV commercial" I said, rather shocked. I could see a glaze forming over her eyes as she mumbled something under her breath. "Oh...." I breathed out heavily, my heart sinking into a long sigh, "I'm old. Nevermind."
Had I said that today, I would have received the same blank stare from my son that I did from Miss Perky. So I whispered my soliloquised plea to the empathetic audience that can always be found somewhere in the vicinity of my kitchen sink. They are kind enough to listen to me during my weighty, mother-gone-wild moments. This scene took place before I went to Little Gym with David, and came home and realized that my shirt was inside out the whole time and that my hair was doing a Medusa impression against my will. Well, I immediately found two giant hair clips and twisted the rogue curls into submission, turned the shirt right side out, took one more look at the dirt on the floor that I had recently vacuumed, and decided that Costco would be my Calgon today.
I love Cotsco. I love that the aisles go almost to the ceiling. I love that I can buy clothes, fruit, tires, fresh bread, a sofa, and a 42' plasma TV all at one place. I love the good deals, the name brands, and the customer service. Costco is truly my Calgon. I can take a deep breath, go in, look around, and maybe not even buy anything and feel better. It's great for the kids because there is so much to look at for Lucas, and David can't really get hurt, and there is almost always free food to be had. I'm not seeking retail therapy when I go, besides, it's not even true retail therapy. No one dreams that buying toilet paper will make them feel better. I generally don't buy things that we don't need, and even today, I was good about not buying the nice-to-haves. ( I really do need the wrinkle serum-and it's on sale this month anyway!) I stuck to the list, used my coupons, and for an hour didn't have to hear any crying, or whining, and I didn't have to employ any mediation, facilitation or entertainment skills for my children. Sure, I could have waited for Kiel to come home and locked myself in the bathroom for an hour. But I would have felt bad about the dirty floor, the laundry waiting to be put away, and the fact that I had no idea what we were having for dinner. This way, I could ignore those things and still get something off my to-do list.
You see, Costco offers you the feeling of productivity wrapped up in an escapist moment. It's so big that other peoples voices are drowned out. You can avoid people you know by dodging behind an endcap in papergoods or greet them with a welcome smile as if they were a value added item on your list. You can dream about that granite topped double vanity with brushed nickel hardware while munching down on some English Coastal cheddar cheese...(oh-what's that?...GOUOOOOODA! Mmmmmm!) You can have a feel good experience about your obvious consumption, and more importantly, you can get out of your house when it's closing in on you.
My Costco therapy session wasn't quite long enough today because by the time I got home and saw that floor again, my blood pressure started to rise-At least I figured out what was for dinner though. Today was a long day, not a bad day, just a long day. I know there will be other better and longer lasting blissful moments and I'll take them when they come. And when I need to, I'll make them happen, even if it's just an hour at Costco. Sigh.....
Had I said that today, I would have received the same blank stare from my son that I did from Miss Perky. So I whispered my soliloquised plea to the empathetic audience that can always be found somewhere in the vicinity of my kitchen sink. They are kind enough to listen to me during my weighty, mother-gone-wild moments. This scene took place before I went to Little Gym with David, and came home and realized that my shirt was inside out the whole time and that my hair was doing a Medusa impression against my will. Well, I immediately found two giant hair clips and twisted the rogue curls into submission, turned the shirt right side out, took one more look at the dirt on the floor that I had recently vacuumed, and decided that Costco would be my Calgon today.
I love Cotsco. I love that the aisles go almost to the ceiling. I love that I can buy clothes, fruit, tires, fresh bread, a sofa, and a 42' plasma TV all at one place. I love the good deals, the name brands, and the customer service. Costco is truly my Calgon. I can take a deep breath, go in, look around, and maybe not even buy anything and feel better. It's great for the kids because there is so much to look at for Lucas, and David can't really get hurt, and there is almost always free food to be had. I'm not seeking retail therapy when I go, besides, it's not even true retail therapy. No one dreams that buying toilet paper will make them feel better. I generally don't buy things that we don't need, and even today, I was good about not buying the nice-to-haves. ( I really do need the wrinkle serum-and it's on sale this month anyway!) I stuck to the list, used my coupons, and for an hour didn't have to hear any crying, or whining, and I didn't have to employ any mediation, facilitation or entertainment skills for my children. Sure, I could have waited for Kiel to come home and locked myself in the bathroom for an hour. But I would have felt bad about the dirty floor, the laundry waiting to be put away, and the fact that I had no idea what we were having for dinner. This way, I could ignore those things and still get something off my to-do list.
You see, Costco offers you the feeling of productivity wrapped up in an escapist moment. It's so big that other peoples voices are drowned out. You can avoid people you know by dodging behind an endcap in papergoods or greet them with a welcome smile as if they were a value added item on your list. You can dream about that granite topped double vanity with brushed nickel hardware while munching down on some English Coastal cheddar cheese...(oh-what's that?...GOUOOOOODA! Mmmmmm!) You can have a feel good experience about your obvious consumption, and more importantly, you can get out of your house when it's closing in on you.
My Costco therapy session wasn't quite long enough today because by the time I got home and saw that floor again, my blood pressure started to rise-At least I figured out what was for dinner though. Today was a long day, not a bad day, just a long day. I know there will be other better and longer lasting blissful moments and I'll take them when they come. And when I need to, I'll make them happen, even if it's just an hour at Costco. Sigh.....
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Spring!
Ah springtime in Anchorage...a season announcing itself by it's trademark scent rather than the greening of tress or blooming of flowers. Yes, on our daily walks to check the status of our local duck pond we've come upon that ever so lovely smell of spring...you know, the dog poo/early barbecue/dryer sheet/rotting leaves/ muddy smell that permeates the air for a few weeks during our beloved break-up. It's been warm: low 40's and cloudy that past week and the dutiful weathermen had been threatening snow any day. It arrived this morning, all wind driven and wet like and early Nebraska winter storm. It wont last, but it drives home the point that in Alaska, it's not really spring unless it snows a few more times.
The boys and I have been traversing the dry road to the duck pond just about every day in the wagon. Lucas gets the biggest grin as soon I buckle him in, and if David needs to burn off some energy, I make him pull for awhile. I've taken to pulling them up the big hill on the other side of the pond to make a loop out of our trip. 65lbs of dead weight behind me makes me feel like a sled dog at a weight pull, but my legs and heart thank me for it at the end of the night. The downhill ride proves to be equally challenging as I have to run to control the wagon as the boys shriek with delight. I was cautious the first time; now, I run a bit faster and hope that I don't wipe out on the gravel scree. It's like their own cheap roller-coaster ride. Kiel started it, and I continue because it's fun, a little dangerous, and the boys just love it.
Lucas is getting his feet wet in the walking arena. He takes 4-6 steps now before falling down or into your open arms. He has this thing where he wants to stand up by himself before he tries it. So, trying to get him to walk between Kiel and I is almost impossible. Yesterday he took off from the stair rail down the hall, which tells me that he's getting ready for the big time. I'm holding to my earlier prediction that he'll be walking by the end of this month. He is certainly a kid who knows his mind. One might say picky-but I wont put that on him-mostly because it would be attributed to me.
It's been a long slog this week. The wagon rides have helped our end of winter cabin fever and I've decided to start a running program to get my head and body back into shape. I did watch The Thin Man which was surprisingly entertaining. I'd recommend it. Well, the baby is up from nap no.2 and it's time to get back to the grind. Until next time...
The boys and I have been traversing the dry road to the duck pond just about every day in the wagon. Lucas gets the biggest grin as soon I buckle him in, and if David needs to burn off some energy, I make him pull for awhile. I've taken to pulling them up the big hill on the other side of the pond to make a loop out of our trip. 65lbs of dead weight behind me makes me feel like a sled dog at a weight pull, but my legs and heart thank me for it at the end of the night. The downhill ride proves to be equally challenging as I have to run to control the wagon as the boys shriek with delight. I was cautious the first time; now, I run a bit faster and hope that I don't wipe out on the gravel scree. It's like their own cheap roller-coaster ride. Kiel started it, and I continue because it's fun, a little dangerous, and the boys just love it.
Lucas is getting his feet wet in the walking arena. He takes 4-6 steps now before falling down or into your open arms. He has this thing where he wants to stand up by himself before he tries it. So, trying to get him to walk between Kiel and I is almost impossible. Yesterday he took off from the stair rail down the hall, which tells me that he's getting ready for the big time. I'm holding to my earlier prediction that he'll be walking by the end of this month. He is certainly a kid who knows his mind. One might say picky-but I wont put that on him-mostly because it would be attributed to me.
It's been a long slog this week. The wagon rides have helped our end of winter cabin fever and I've decided to start a running program to get my head and body back into shape. I did watch The Thin Man which was surprisingly entertaining. I'd recommend it. Well, the baby is up from nap no.2 and it's time to get back to the grind. Until next time...
Thursday, March 27, 2008
chutes and ladders
My son David is a feirce competitor. Anything that can be made a race or game is his thing right now. Can he beat us eating dinner, going up and down the stairs, or getting his winter gear on? Just about any daily activity gets turned into a race. He puts his arm out ever so slyly going down the stairs to keep you from getting in front of him. He checks your dinner plate to see how many bites you have left; he races his brother out of the bathtub, determined to "beat him" getting his jammies on. For this almost four year old boy, it's all about the Big Win.
I'm not sure where this comes from. Well, okay, that's not entirely true. I've been known to put my own elbow out now and then to get ahead. (Most famously, in line at the state fair to get on the Zipper when some little tart tried to take cuts. One elbow slyly placed in a half-step-turn move put her back in her rightful place...thank you very much.) Plus, I can only play Risk with two players as the thought of alliances that might not be seeking to win, just take out everyone else, sends me over the edge. Kiel too, has some competitive feistiness, though he downplays this whenever it gets brought up.
So, in an effort to turn this dueling energy into something constructive we've been playing a lot of board games lately. Chutes and Ladders is at the top of the list, as is Hi-Ho Cherry-O, which requires real dexterity as an adult. C and L has improved David's sportsmanship to the point where he can lose without crying most of the time, and it has really boosted his counting confidence. Kiel, in his current obsession with the democratic primary race has named all the characters...David is ALWAYS "Obama". Kiel usually gets to be "Edwards", and for awhile I got to be "Clinton" (a blond pony-tailed little girl), but now most of the time I'm made to be "Kucinich". I successfully argued my way into being "Edwards" the other day. There is something so absurd in debating with your pre-schooler whether you can be Edwards or Clinton instead of the black-haired Kucinich (girl).
"Mommy looks more like Clinton. Why can't I be Clinton?"
"No".
"Please," I say sweetly.
"No. You can be Kucinich."
"Can I be Edwards?" (I'm desperate. I've been Kucinich for weeks now.)
"Ummmm, Okay."
Yes! Victory is secretly mine as I wield the curly haired blond boy with the utmost care....though I'm ultimately defeated by that crafty Obama. Twice.
I can only hope that these myriad races, large and small, find a place in his memory that he will look back on with fondness when he's older. And maybe, if we are really lucky, they will make him a more confident (not cocky) kiddo in the long run. So we hold our breath, mitigate when necessary, and laugh when we can't keep it in any longer.
I'm not sure where this comes from. Well, okay, that's not entirely true. I've been known to put my own elbow out now and then to get ahead. (Most famously, in line at the state fair to get on the Zipper when some little tart tried to take cuts. One elbow slyly placed in a half-step-turn move put her back in her rightful place...thank you very much.) Plus, I can only play Risk with two players as the thought of alliances that might not be seeking to win, just take out everyone else, sends me over the edge. Kiel too, has some competitive feistiness, though he downplays this whenever it gets brought up.
So, in an effort to turn this dueling energy into something constructive we've been playing a lot of board games lately. Chutes and Ladders is at the top of the list, as is Hi-Ho Cherry-O, which requires real dexterity as an adult. C and L has improved David's sportsmanship to the point where he can lose without crying most of the time, and it has really boosted his counting confidence. Kiel, in his current obsession with the democratic primary race has named all the characters...David is ALWAYS "Obama". Kiel usually gets to be "Edwards", and for awhile I got to be "Clinton" (a blond pony-tailed little girl), but now most of the time I'm made to be "Kucinich". I successfully argued my way into being "Edwards" the other day. There is something so absurd in debating with your pre-schooler whether you can be Edwards or Clinton instead of the black-haired Kucinich (girl).
"Mommy looks more like Clinton. Why can't I be Clinton?"
"No".
"Please," I say sweetly.
"No. You can be Kucinich."
"Can I be Edwards?" (I'm desperate. I've been Kucinich for weeks now.)
"Ummmm, Okay."
Yes! Victory is secretly mine as I wield the curly haired blond boy with the utmost care....though I'm ultimately defeated by that crafty Obama. Twice.
I can only hope that these myriad races, large and small, find a place in his memory that he will look back on with fondness when he's older. And maybe, if we are really lucky, they will make him a more confident (not cocky) kiddo in the long run. So we hold our breath, mitigate when necessary, and laugh when we can't keep it in any longer.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
catching up
whew! It's been a long two weeks. Lots of work for my paying job, and prepping for a class I taught on 'writing in the Nursing profession' to some high school students yesterday. Of course, I went overboard and blabbed on for an hour instead of my allotted 30 minutes. That's what you get when you give a smart woman (at home with two kids all day) an audience. Fortunately for me, the class is taught by a friend of Kiel's so he was very cordial about my enthusiasm and lack of oral censorship.
Been thinking lately how it's nice to be home with these boys. Lucas is at that age when everyday brings something new. He stands longer or "gets" something we've been trying to teach him, or tries something new. It's a pretty exciting time. David is turning more towards philosophy it seems and comes up with some good reasoning now and then. Mostly it's about how he's bigger/faster/stronger than his brother, but he always adds a caveat: "but someday he'll catch up to me...someday" like he's hoping that maybe it wont come true.
I really believe that Lucas will handily overpower David in a few years. He really has this brutish force about him at times. Of course it's all done with a smile, so it's hard to not champion his little feats as a mother, but for both their sakes, I have started to scold Lucas when he doesn't play nice. I think this appeals to D's sense of fair play and it's important for him to know that his brother will have to tow the line just like he does.
We've also laid laminate and started on trim work in our bedroom in the last two weeks. It went as fast as we could have hoped for given two kids in tow. It looks great, and now we are on to painting the rest of the doors, casings and trim. Starting to look at flooring for downstairs and I am daunted by the idea of tiling and have been trying to find a way out of doing that, but it seems my glimmer of hope that came in a new "loose lay" vinyl may not pan out, because I can't really find anything I like. I dread tile. The dust, the noise, the "what are we doing/you aren't doing that right/don't talk to me like I'm crazy" conversations that go along with home projects newly attempted.
Kiel and I have worked out our roles in these things fairly well; which means we pretty much know where not to go with each other when patience runs thin. Every once in awhile though, we've got to make up for things said. The worst was our block retaining wall in the back yard. Two months of digging, stacking, backfilling, replacing, seeding, etc. There were several times that we had it out and neither of us was willing to concede defeat. It was bad. Then came the rain, flooding rain, and we joined forces in a last big effort on the few rainless days, to get it done. When you have a 4x20 dirt wall being supported by plywood and 2x4's and the rain doesn't end-you find an inner reserve to forgive and forge on. We laugh about it now, and the yard looks great, but we both know that wall tested our relationship on several levels. Live and learn right? We have I guess as this last project went off without a hint of 'tone' or condescension. Tile though, may cause us to backslide...still looking for a way out. Which probably means that I leave for a few days. I know, I know, put the control freak to bed chelsea...it's ok, really it is.
Been thinking lately how it's nice to be home with these boys. Lucas is at that age when everyday brings something new. He stands longer or "gets" something we've been trying to teach him, or tries something new. It's a pretty exciting time. David is turning more towards philosophy it seems and comes up with some good reasoning now and then. Mostly it's about how he's bigger/faster/stronger than his brother, but he always adds a caveat: "but someday he'll catch up to me...someday" like he's hoping that maybe it wont come true.
I really believe that Lucas will handily overpower David in a few years. He really has this brutish force about him at times. Of course it's all done with a smile, so it's hard to not champion his little feats as a mother, but for both their sakes, I have started to scold Lucas when he doesn't play nice. I think this appeals to D's sense of fair play and it's important for him to know that his brother will have to tow the line just like he does.
We've also laid laminate and started on trim work in our bedroom in the last two weeks. It went as fast as we could have hoped for given two kids in tow. It looks great, and now we are on to painting the rest of the doors, casings and trim. Starting to look at flooring for downstairs and I am daunted by the idea of tiling and have been trying to find a way out of doing that, but it seems my glimmer of hope that came in a new "loose lay" vinyl may not pan out, because I can't really find anything I like. I dread tile. The dust, the noise, the "what are we doing/you aren't doing that right/don't talk to me like I'm crazy" conversations that go along with home projects newly attempted.
Kiel and I have worked out our roles in these things fairly well; which means we pretty much know where not to go with each other when patience runs thin. Every once in awhile though, we've got to make up for things said. The worst was our block retaining wall in the back yard. Two months of digging, stacking, backfilling, replacing, seeding, etc. There were several times that we had it out and neither of us was willing to concede defeat. It was bad. Then came the rain, flooding rain, and we joined forces in a last big effort on the few rainless days, to get it done. When you have a 4x20 dirt wall being supported by plywood and 2x4's and the rain doesn't end-you find an inner reserve to forgive and forge on. We laugh about it now, and the yard looks great, but we both know that wall tested our relationship on several levels. Live and learn right? We have I guess as this last project went off without a hint of 'tone' or condescension. Tile though, may cause us to backslide...still looking for a way out. Which probably means that I leave for a few days. I know, I know, put the control freak to bed chelsea...it's ok, really it is.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Today I had the rare and pleasurable experience of driving down the Seward highway for no other reason than to see the mountains and listen to music as loud as I desired. I usually travel with kids in the car, so it's a nice break when I can turn up the volume and don't have to have the same conversations over and over again:
"No, we are not going to Fred Meyers. We are going to Costco. Costco! yeah for Costco!"
"Stop kicking my seat. I've asked you three times already to stop kicking my seat. It's hard for me to drive when you kick my seat."
"It's OK Lucas, we are almost home. You're going to make it baby, just hold on a bit more."
I ended up at Beluga Point, one of my favorite writing destinations. I love to sit and watch the tourists face the wind and snap pictures and try to find sheep and whales. Kate Bush was my musical companion as I reviewed last years poems and journal entries. I ended up revising a few lines and working on a short story that I started almost two years ago. Just like me, it's all a work in progress it seems.
The biggest gift of the day was the drive home. Every mountain range in sight was out in full glory. The Talkeetna's could be seen, still snow covered, in the northeast, the Alaska Range held up the southwest skyline with their tall and impenetrable peaks forged up from the sea. Redoubt stood alone with his lopped off top, while Denali and Foraker rose above them all to the north. The Chugach, our local range, stood on my right, looking a little weather beaten, like a well worn shirt, and across Cook Inlet, Susitna, wearing her snow white death shroud, lay serenely against the blue, blue sky.
Just another blessed trip. Alaska is synonymous with home for me; even on the worst day, there is nowhere else I'd rather be.
***Thanks Honey for the time off!****
"No, we are not going to Fred Meyers. We are going to Costco. Costco! yeah for Costco!"
"Stop kicking my seat. I've asked you three times already to stop kicking my seat. It's hard for me to drive when you kick my seat."
"It's OK Lucas, we are almost home. You're going to make it baby, just hold on a bit more."
I ended up at Beluga Point, one of my favorite writing destinations. I love to sit and watch the tourists face the wind and snap pictures and try to find sheep and whales. Kate Bush was my musical companion as I reviewed last years poems and journal entries. I ended up revising a few lines and working on a short story that I started almost two years ago. Just like me, it's all a work in progress it seems.
The biggest gift of the day was the drive home. Every mountain range in sight was out in full glory. The Talkeetna's could be seen, still snow covered, in the northeast, the Alaska Range held up the southwest skyline with their tall and impenetrable peaks forged up from the sea. Redoubt stood alone with his lopped off top, while Denali and Foraker rose above them all to the north. The Chugach, our local range, stood on my right, looking a little weather beaten, like a well worn shirt, and across Cook Inlet, Susitna, wearing her snow white death shroud, lay serenely against the blue, blue sky.
Just another blessed trip. Alaska is synonymous with home for me; even on the worst day, there is nowhere else I'd rather be.
***Thanks Honey for the time off!****
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Walk the Talk
Today I learned that you can buy a nine year old girl as a sex slave for $50 in Haiti. You could just use her as a housekeeper, or for both occupations if you wanted. All you have to do is feed, clothe and shelter her. You do not have to pay her. You do not have to care for her. She is your slave. You own her.
It appalled me to hear this on NPR this morning. According to Benjamin Skinner, slavery is more rampant and less expensive than during the big Euro-American slave trade 200 years ago. I listened to this story and yelled at the radio for a moment, then stormed off in a self-righteous huff down the hall. But what use is that? My anger wont stop slavery unless I take a stand, join some organization that is trying to stop the trading of human lives, and put my money and time where my mouth is. Hmmm. That seems like a lot of work.
Here's the thing: our indignation needs to extend beyond our apathy if we are really going effect a change in our world. We may not reach Haiti, but we might make a difference in our own locale. We have to do more than talk about it though. It was one of my resolutions this year to volunteer my time, not just my money. Today's news was a reminder that I haven't done that yet. I'll keep you posted.
Disclaimer: I have not read this book-but if you are interested here it is:
A Crime So Monstrous: Face-to-Face with Modern-Day Slavery
by Benjamin Skinner
A Google search will give lots of other info on this topic as well.
It appalled me to hear this on NPR this morning. According to Benjamin Skinner, slavery is more rampant and less expensive than during the big Euro-American slave trade 200 years ago. I listened to this story and yelled at the radio for a moment, then stormed off in a self-righteous huff down the hall. But what use is that? My anger wont stop slavery unless I take a stand, join some organization that is trying to stop the trading of human lives, and put my money and time where my mouth is. Hmmm. That seems like a lot of work.
Here's the thing: our indignation needs to extend beyond our apathy if we are really going effect a change in our world. We may not reach Haiti, but we might make a difference in our own locale. We have to do more than talk about it though. It was one of my resolutions this year to volunteer my time, not just my money. Today's news was a reminder that I haven't done that yet. I'll keep you posted.
Disclaimer: I have not read this book-but if you are interested here it is:
A Crime So Monstrous: Face-to-Face with Modern-Day Slavery
by Benjamin Skinner
A Google search will give lots of other info on this topic as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
