Aaaaand We're Back

The last time I posted was way back in October and I had plans to try and post at least once a month, but as usually happens, life got crazy.

Turns out quitting my job was a good things. That inability to be on my feet for 4-6 hours at a time was something I should have taken a little more seriously. On November 17 I went in for a routine prenatal appointment. I had felt a little crampy but I wasn't concerned. I should have been. I was only 34 weeks along and already dilated 3 cm. My midwife sent me straight to the hospital for monitoring.This was not good. Two hours later I was at 5 cm, despite shots and meds designed to stop labor. My midwife and the nurses were prepping me for the reality that if my baby arrived (and it looked like should would) she would spend at least three days in NICU.

While all this was going on, my older two kids were at home with Papa and a massive windstorm was devastating the area. A power line went down in our front yard and burnt the grass. Johnny tells me it was very scary.

Thankfully labor stopped on its own but I spent another two nights in the hospital. Partly to make sure it stayed stopped, and partly because we had no power and therefore no heat at home. When I did get home, we still had no power and I was on strict bedrest for 2 weeks.

The night I went home, my grandfather landed in the ER and was transferred to the ICU with meningitis. It was bad. My aunt drove through the night from Seattle and my sister was on the next available flight from Denver. He pulled through, though he is still in a rehab facility getting his strength back.

Long story short, life has been super crazy.

Evelyn Gayle very wisely stayed put for another 4 weeks and arrived only 10 days early on Dec 15 weighing 7 lbs 2 oz and measuring 20 inches in length. She was perfect and spent no time in the NICU.

Evelyn at just over 2 months old.

After Christmas, Lily turned 6 in January and the Seahawks didn't quite make it to the Super Bowl (there is always next year).

I had my tubes tied over Valentine's Day weekend to prevent this kind of chaos from happening again. Three kids is enough for me and I am exhausted.

Life is just now beginning to settle down, or maybe it just feels that way because Evelyn is learning to sleep through the night and so I am feeling a little less tired. That said, she is asleep, and this being the third time around, I know the wisdom of sleeping when she does.

Saturdays in Redneckville: A Sunday Hike

Like any blogger who is convinced they can become famous, I try to drive traffic to my blog by reading and commenting on other blogs. I'm not sure it works, but I have come across some blogs that I really enjoy and have begun reading regularly (because as a full time mother, full time failing housewife, and part time fabric store employee I totally have hours to waste devote to reading blogs online for the sheer enjoyment of it). One of the blogs I have become addicted to is Tilting at Windmills authored by CWMartin. He regularly writes about walks he takes with his dog, Scrappy, complete with pictures. One of these posts inspired me to take a hike as a family. Lucky for me the Seahawks had a bye week and Larch and I both have Sundays off. I told Larch I wanted to go for a hike, but I wanted a trail or a road or something to walk on because I am a wimp and smart money says at least one of us will be carrying at least one of the children at least part way back to the car. He thought about it, and picked probably the most awesome last minute destination ever.

We drove for an hour, maybe more, I was distracted by the view.

On any good hike, we start with food.

This is not a no trespassing gate. This is a keep the motorized vehicles out gate. My son pointed out that someone just drove their four wheeler around the gate. 

Lily never wants to hold Daddy's hand.

This was about a half mile in.

According to Larch, these are hallucinogenic. I will take his word for it as they also contain arsenic. 

This is blurry, but it is a really old wheelbarrow. This is how we knew we were getting close to our final destination.

Old Mine shack/shaft. Well played husband.

So what does any good North Idaho family do?

 We get closer...

and closer...

and look inside.

And we go around and find another building. We think it was an office, living space, or MAYBE a secondary entrance.

See...Daddy has to carry Lily at least some of the time.

You can't tell from this picture, but we think this is the remains of a cooking stove.

It's hunting season, so we make our dog wear an orange vest.

Still carrying Lily.

That blue out there between the close mountains and the far mountains, is Lake Pend Oreille.

While I was busy taking picture of the distant lake, the kids were doing this...

We ended the day at Superman and Lois Lane's. Superman and Larch brewed some beer that should be ready around Halloween, while we watched movies and the kids played in the dirt. And Johnny lost another tooth.

He could be a Jack O'Lantern for Halloween this year. Or a cage fighter.

Saturday in Redneckville: Football Fever

You would more or less have to live under a rock to not realize that it is football season in the USA. I mean the kind with a brown oval ball and big black men in pads and helmets, not the one with the round ball and men in shorts running around. I happen to be a pretty decent football fan. Wait, I am a Seahawks fan, not really football in general. I watch games in which my team plays but I don't take time out of my Monday and Thursday to watch teams whose merchandise I don't buy.

I am not going to give you a run down of the Seattle/Denver game. We won and that's all the matters. The fact that it was in overtime just means that my heart rate and blood pressure were very likely temporarily at unhealthy rates.

 I brought up football because, I learned this weekend that my husband could take it or leave it when it comes to watching football, but I might have a conniption if I miss a game. If the fact that I kicked my husband out while the game was on (the Seahawks play better when he listens on the radio at his brothers) wasn't weird enough, I "watched" the game with my sister via Facebook messenger.  She recently moved to Denver. (I should maybe call her and make sure her Seahawk loyalties didn't get her killed or maimed today.) While we aren't, and never were, very close, she, like me, lettered in football in high school, so we do sort of bond over football. And it's no fun to watch by yourself.

Also, these amazing  pictures of my kids amusing themselves while I screamed at the sweaty young men on my television.

Johnny made himself "overalls" out of a plastic shopping bag while on time out.

I have no idea what Lily was doing here. She was just sitting there making this face.

P.S. I guess I better clarify the lettering in football. Neither my sister or I actually played football. She did get tackled once though. We were the statisticians.  We ran up and down the sidelines during the game keeping track of yards run and yards passed, interceptions, fumbles, and all that wonderful stuff. Our duties included traveling with the team to all away games. For anyone who thinks keeping stats for two years in a row doesn't really qualify you for a letter, try taking hour plus bus rides home with a team of football players. Most of them shower, but their pads still reek. I paid my dues.

What I Did Last Summer or Why I Now Hate Cops

I'm back! Again.

I was forced to take a hiatus from blogging so that I could play the leading role in one of the situations you read about where a parent is dragged through the court system because they let their children play outside while mom stayed inside to clean up the hurricane that is two school aged children in the middle of the summer.

Here is the short version:

Johnny was riding his bike around the block with his friend. You know down our street, around the corner, up the next street over around the corner again and back down the sidewalk in front of my house. Every three or four houses there was a house occupied by a friend or family member. Lily asked to go play outside. I said, "Yes, but stay in the yard, don't follow Johnny he doesn't want his kid sister hanging around." I then went back inside to finish packing up to go camping. 

Fifteen or twenty minutes later I went outback for a smoke break. I didn't see Lily but I heard her and from the direction of the sound of her giggles I assumed she had crossed the alley to play at Tenielle's house with BossyPants and BellaRose, something she is regularly allowed to do. About the time I finished my cigerette, the cop showed up. 

Mr. Motorcycle Cop asked if I knew where my daughter was. Apparently, She had been running after Johnny and his friend and while they were on the next street over, right in front of Tennille's house where they regularly play. A kind and concerned (read nosy) neighbor lady saw a small child running down the sidewalk without an adult and flagged down the cop. 

The end result is that I was charged with misdemeanor injury to a child. I got a public defender and would have tried my case before a jury, but since the outcome would have been dependent on the jury liking me and this whole ordeal has thrown my BPD into chaos (I went from minimum diagnostic symptoms to all nine in a matter of 24 hours), I chose to plea out. I am currently on a year probation with a years withheld judgment. That means that if I meet all the conditions of my probation (no problems with the law more serious then not wearing my seat belt and completing a parenting class by January 15th) then the judge will likely dismiss the case. Until then, it isn't even put on my record. As long as I go take this stupid state mandated parenting class that tells me to negotiate with my children and coddle them rather than putting my foot down, none of this will show up in a background check.  Because you know, there isn't enough crime in the US so we have to waste time and taxpayer dollars telling people how to raise their kids and prosecuting them for not doing it they way the 30 something with no kids from California* thinks they should.

*I do not really hate or discriminate against people from California, They just seem to be the ones moving into the very conservative area I live in and trying to make us all liberals**. In this case, the woman really did move here from California.

**I also do not have a problem with most liberals, just the ones who try to tell me how to live and parent and what I can and cannot buy, own, or eat, while telling me that I am close-minded and intolerant.

Saturdays in Redneckville: How to Camp in Large Groups for Less Than $100

We FINALLY went camping this weekend. It's mid-June and this was our first camping trip this year. We are so behind. The most redneck part of the weekend I can't write about yet. I really want to, and hopefully I will be able to soon. You will understand why I can't write about it right now when I do finally write about it in the future.

This weekend's camping trip was a first for me, and not just because it was the first trip of 2014. Rather than driving to a spot and unpacking, we drove to a lake, unloaded all our crap out of the car and into a fishing boat, a canoe, and three kayaks and crossed to the other side of the lake. The three families that showed up the first night managed to get all the gear across in 2 hours. We all decided this was great fun, but really was quite a lot of work. Worth it though, like childbirth.

When we camp, we go big. Everyone comes. Tim the Toolman, The Hot Italian, Dorkfish, and The Hot Italian's two teenage boys. Superman, Lois Lane, BamBam, CJ and Lois Lane's parents. The Artist and JZ. Mama T and Mark. And of course, our little family of four. I don't think any of us know how to camp in small numbers.

Because we camp in large numbers, we have spent YEARS finding an efficient way to camp. We used to all bring enough food for our respective family units and then we would share and swap among the other campers and everyone would go home and eat camping left overs for a week. The biggest problem with this is that we all spent way to much money on food that sat in a wet pile in a cooler all weekend and then went bad in our fridge at home in a matter of days. Then we got smart. 

When we decide to go camping, the men decide things like where to camp (heavily influenced by the women) who is bringing the chainsaw, and how much beer to buy (this is determined by calculating how fast they can drink it, how close the nearest gas station is to our camp site and how many women are pregnant, nursing, or just unlikely to drink). Lois Lane, The Artist, The Hot Italian and I then text each other endlessly for three days to arrange meals. 

If we leave for camp Friday afternoon and come home Sunday afternoon, there are 6 meals that will need to be prepared over the course of the weekend. With four families camping we each pick one meal and the other two (normally lunches) are picked up by who every volunteers (generally who ever feels rich that week). Most times we only have three of the four family units camping and two families take a breakfast and a dinner and the third family provides lunches for the who weekend. Then each family brings snacks to share and drinks for themselves. This allows those of us with small children to make sure they eat if those without chose to feed more sophisticated palates (and to feed the kids breakfast while we wait for the heavy drinkers to wake up). We went from spending between two and three hundred dollars each for one weekend of camping, to $100 or less per family for the weekend. Hallelujah!

The men would be content to eat hot dogs and chili all weekend. Us women, we have to share tents with them. 

I like the make ahead kind of meals. I made a Taco Soup for Friday night, packed it up in gallon sized zipper bags and reheated it on a camp stove in my cast iron dutch oven. Breakfast was biscuits and gravy. The gravy was made from packets and the biscuits were baked at home before we left with the help of Tennille.

About those biscuits. I didn't have any biscuits and I didn't have time to run to the store, so we made them from scratch. The first time, Tennille grabbed what she thought was a measuring spoon, so we had to eyeball our baking soda. They tasted off and salty so we tried again. This time, she read the recipe as tablespoons when it was teaspoons and again we had salty weird biscuits. Larch said they tasted like fish. Our final two batches were perfect. (With ten adults, three teenagers, two kids and two toddlers, you need two batches of biscuits).

Including the alcohol, hand sanitizer and band aids I think we spent about $85 on this camping trip. 

A Reply

If you haven't read "To My Friends Who Became Mothers Before Me" at Scarymommy.com, go here first and read it. This is my reply.

To my now knowledgeable, and therefore guilt-ridden, best friend who has finally taken the plunge into motherhood.

You are forgiven.

You are forgiven for uttering the words "I'm tired." You didn't know. I didn't know before kids either. Take heart, it gets better. It will be years yet, but eventually your children will be less demanding and you may get to sleep in or take a nap.

You are forgiven for your welling meaning baby food book. To be honest, I don't really remember you giving it to me, much less where I put it. 

You are forgiven for thinking it would be fun for you and your boyfriend to be my house guests days before delivery. I was the fool who said ok. I was thinking pregnancy is miserable and I needed a distraction from all the waiting.

You are forgiven for calling me with all of your single girl drama. Yes, talking on the phone is torture with young kids, but maybe more for you than for me. I was the one who kept interrupting you to yell at the kids. To be honest, I was feeling nostalgic about "the good old days" and you reminded me that my life as a mother was hectic but much less drama filled. And I was dying to talk to someone who could use words longer than two syllables.

You are forgiven for talking to me while sleep deprived. You didn't know. And don't worry about rubbing my feet. That's my husband's job.

You are forgiven for not bringing me food, or folding my laundry, or doing my dishes. (You are a better cook now, then you were then). Thank YOU for not commenting on the disastrous state of my house. For finding a place to sit amongst the clean but unfolded laundry piles with nary a word. And for holding the baby while I made you that lunch. I am human. I didn't tell you then, but all I did was warm up the leftovers from dinner the night before. I'm glad you liked it.

Please do not apologize for asking me to come downtown for margaritas. On the occasions I did go, I really needed an excuse to shower. On the times I didn't, I really wanted to, but passed out while putting the kids to bed. Speaking of margaritas, do you want to go out and have one, or should I bring the ingredients and the blender to your place after bedtime?

You are forgiven for your baby envy. It happens to everyone. Even when you have kids. Sometimes especially when you have older kids.

You are forgiven for not knowing my children's nap and meal schedule. I may have grumbled then, but it taught them to sleep anywhere and be flexible. And if you stayed with me through their crankiness, you have paid your penance. 

You are so welcome. Loving someone means putting someone else's needs before your own. I knew that before the stupid snowman said it to the girl who sang the song I can't get out of my head. I will always stand by you. You stuck it out with me.

Thank you. Mothers often feel under appreciated. You too, are doing an amazing job. You are an awesome mother. I am proud of you for taking on motherhood after having seen me struggle through it. You are truly brave. I will always be your friend.

The Great Skirt Experiment: Day 3

We spent the weekend at my sister-in-law, E's house. The first batch of 2013 beer was ready to bottle, and the second is now brewing.

Brewmaster Larch

I let E know what I was doing, since she doesn't see me regularly enough to catch on. I'm not sure if Larch has caught on yet or not. On Friday, I realized I didn't have enough skirts to really pull this off, so I went to Ross and bought myself three new skirt, a dress, and sandals. Since Larch knew this, I think he might just assume I am really excited about my new clothes and want to wear them all right away.

When I wore my new strapless maxi dress today, he asked if I was going hippie on him. But all in all he has liked all of my new outfits.

I am really loving that I feel feminine and pretty, even when I'm just playing board games in the yard, getting a massive sunburn.

The Great Skirt Experiment

I'm starting an experiment today.

Growing up my mom never wore pants, she only wore skirts or dresses. She did, for a period of time, wear a pair of overalls when she gardened. This last Christmas, she bought a pair of jeans because everybody else was wearing jeans for family pictures and so my kids have not experienced Grandmama in only skirts.

While I was deciding what my style is going to be this summer, since I'm no longer ashamed of my weight, I started buying and making boho skirts. I figure they will provide a nice but casual look and will allow me the comfort of shorts without blinding my friends with my pale skin.

Starting today I am NOT going to wear jeans or pants for a month. I am also, not going to tell anyone of my intentions, except, obviously, for you my dear readers. 

Johnny doesn't think I can do it. I want to go camping for Mother's Day and he thinks you have to wear jeans when you go camping. Every memory I have of camping as a child, my mother wore denim skirts, not jeans. 

The experiment part is seeing how long it takes the people in my daily life, my husband, my brothers-in-law, friends I see regularly, etc, to notice that I haven't been wearing pants . Also, when I start wearing jeans again, I want to see thier reaction, if they have one. 

These are the things that come from being a bored stay at home mom with very little social life

A History of Cake

Today I will be discussing the history of cake. Sort of. I will be sharing pictures of the cakes I have made over the last 6 years. 

The first awesome cake I made was a frog. I threw a 6 month birthday party for Johnny. It was an amazing first shaped cake. Regrettably, I cannot find any pictures. I'm sure they are around, I have just misplaced the disk.

The second cake was for Johnny's first birthday. It was a Noah's Ark. I am also missing pictures of this cake, but that's alright. I had the cake all made, complete with a bowl of blue jello under the cake stand, when it started to fall apart. It was a 3D cake and I did not glue the layers together well en

In January of 2009, Larch turned 30. I cranked out these two awesome cakes:

Two thousand nine was the year I discovered Bunco and so threw myself a Bunco Birthday Party. We ate ice cream cake for months. But, if Johnny every wants a Transformers birthday party, I can always make an Allspark cake.

After the Noah's Ark catastrophe, I was a little wary on Johnny's second birthday. I was just not up to creating a cake that looked like Elmo. So, I put Sesame Street cut outs on a sheet cake.

In 2010, for Johnny's 3rd birthday I had my confidence back, and created a 3D racecar.

January 2011 I got to create my first girl cake. I constructed an amazing pink and purple castle. Unfortunatly, I am unable to locate any digital pictures of this cake.

Johnny decided his fourth birthday would be a dinosaur party and that he wanted a cake from the store. His loss.

Last year, for Lily's 2nd birthday I formed this adorable monkey.

Johnny's 5th birthday was all about camo, he got cupcakes with little green army men on top.

This year, after only 24 days, I have built my two best looking cakes yet. For all thier simplicity, you can tell my skill is increasing.

Lily requested a Frosty the Snowman party. With Christmas decor on clearance, this party was really inexpensive to put together. And the cake looked amazing, if I do say so myself.

Here's my January run down: My nephew Emmett was born Jan 8, Lily is the 16th, Larch, my mom, and my dad celebrate their birth on the 18th, my Nana was born on the 19th, and Joe was born on the 22nd. AND Casey Joe joined us this year at 1:22pm on 1/22. Yep, Joe got a baby for his birthday and I now have 8 birthdays to celebrate in two week time span.

With Larch and Joe's birthday's being so close together, and not as big a deal as the kids, we generally throw one event for the two of them. This year we went bowling followed by tacos and cake at my house. Since Larch and Joe are both into military aircraft, I spent three hours planning, cutting, and frosting this masterpiece:

I can't wait to hear what Johnny plans for his 6th Birthday. I am up for almost any challenge he can throw at me.

+

That pretty little boy is my daughter.

Lily's attempt at a one-sided mullet.

Monday morning I had a major melt down. I was tired, my kids weren't listening, it was time to walk out the door and my son couldn't find his shoes. Then he looked down and I saw a little bald patch on the top of his head. "Johnny, did you cut your hair?" I asked. "No, Lily did it," he replied. It took me a second to formulate a reaction. Johnny is 5, Lily is not quite three. "You're two year old sister cut your hair? You LET your TWO year old sister, cut your hair?"

His hair was an easy fix, we buzz his head about one a month anyways. A bald spot on his head at school for one day wouldn't hurt, there wasn't time to fix it right that minute. I threw my hands up and went to dig in the couch cushions for Lily's shoes. The couch was covered in hair. Long hair, darker than my son's. Lots of it.

I took a deep breath. Ok, it was more involuntary and gasp like. I fought tears and I turned around and grabbed my daughter's head. She had cut all the hair on the left side of her head off. Not a little choppy trim job. She had cut her hair almost to the scalp. My baby girl had given herself a half mullet.

Captain Lily waits for Storytime

I wanted to fix it right away, but I wasn't going to let anyone do it. I needed someone who could look at her hair and fix it in the cutest, most feminine, least redneck kind of way. I was taking her to MY hairdresser, not  Great Clips. But she didn't have an appointment open until today.

It actually worked out well. She was a pirate for Halloween and the choppy, messy look was just perfect.

This morning Lily got her professional hair cut. I was all for a pixie cut. Actually, my parents, sister, and husband were all for a pixie cut, I was holding out for a mullet so I could put the back in a ponytail with pink bows so she still looked like a girl when I went to Wal Mart. (Yep, I'm scoring big points on the redneck team today.)  Kim looked at Lily's handy work and we decided an asymmetrical cut would be a little more girly and easy to keep looking nice as long as we keep it trimmed every two to three weeks.

Shot side 

Head on

Long side

Lily still looks like a really pretty boy. Kinda. I guess we will be wearing lots of pink and dresses for a while. My daughter got an edgy haircut before she was three. What can I say, she's more fashion forward than her mom.

Part Time Single Mom, Full Time Failing Housewife

A couple of months ago, Larch went back to work. After being a framer/sider for the last ten or so years, he is now an apprentice electrician. I changed jobs too. Instead of just being a stay-at-home-mom, I am now a part time single mother. Larch's job takes him half a state away, so for three to four nights a week, it's just me and the kids.

I've learned a few things in the last two and a half months.

1--I do not envy my single parent friends. They do everything I do, plus hold down a job to pay for all the same bills, plus child care. AND they are either perpetually lonely, or they have to fit time into their already busy lives to date. Nope,I do not envy them, I have a whole new respect for them.

2--Sleeping alone sucks. Even though most of the time the kids sleep in bed with me, it's different. Instead of my ice cold feet searching for a warm spot on Larch's side of the bed, I am experiencing Lily's ice cold feet in the small of my back.

3--I cannot eat what my kids eat three times a day.  I need more variety than mac and cheese, corn dogs, chicken nuggets, and peanut butter sandwiches. Did you know that one cup of prepared kraft mac and cheese is around 400 calories! Add a hot dog and you've just used half your daily intake for lunch. EW!

4--Phone calls are not the same as good night kisses.

5--I do not miss grocery shopping with my kids. It takes twice as long to do a weeks worth of household shopping with two children in tow.

Now that I know I don't like being a single stay at home mom, the idea has gotten into Larch's head that I should go back to work part time. HA! I am willing to go, but I can't keep up on the housework being at home full time, I don't know how he expects me to keep a clean house, cook meals, and provide clean clothes if I go back to work. I supposed I could try, but I wouldn't put money on my ability to do both.

P.S. I hope to have something interesting to share next week. We are going on our first camping trip of the season this weekend. Please pray it doesn't rain.

Playing the Part

I've had an interesting week. The weekend saw my son's 5th birthday. And some harsh words that caused emotional pain. Well suffering my pain, I posted to Facebook something I probably should have thought about first. It seems to have caused quite the scandal amongst my family. While using the term "bleed out" to refer to my emotional draining, I seem to have inadvertently put forth that I was contemplating suicide.
This was not and is not the case. I could not see how this was a possible explanation for what I wrote. But when speaking with my husband, he pointed out that I like to play the part of the emotionally disturbed crazy woman.  This is true.  And I may have been playing my part too well. Yes, I have trouble coping with normal emotions. I take things that are said to me and twist them into something painful. I retreat into myself when I feel vulnerable or hurt. I can make stupid ,rash and harmful decisions when I am hurt. But ultimately, I am not as crazy or disturbed as I put forth. My husband said it's a cry for attention. I want to deny this, but it is likely true.
I have decided to stop playing this part. Here on my blog and within the safety of my parents in my husband, I will still deal with the real emotional issues that come with having bpd. However, I am going to stop playing it up and making it the center of my life. My cousin said to me last fall,  you have to define your mental illness, you can't let it define you. Unfortunately, I have been living bpd rather than living with it. I cannot get better if I try to fit the mold of what a crazy person should be. I have to decide to be healthy and then overcome the hurdles and obstacles as I encounter them. This may be the most productive step I have taken forward since starting treatment. Here's to getting better.

W is for Weekend in the Country.

Last weekend, we spent the weekend at my sister-in -laws, in the country. We were celebrating her husband's 27th birthday. ( I am exactly 13 days older than he is.)
The boys, there were about 12 of them, spent all day Saturday in a paintball war. L and I stayed in the shade playing Scattergories. After dark, we all met out front for a large bonfire.
JZ decided he wanted a keg for his birthday this year. The keg was kept cool in a steel drum that was originally purposed for lemon juice from concentrate.
Around 10 o'clock at night, after L had gone to bed, the boys decided to have a paintball hunt in the dark. I wanted to participate but Larch talked me out of it. Instead, I was the paintball equivalent of WACs. Okay not really. It was my job to refill ammo and air cans when the guys ran out. It was actually quite exciting.
The next morning, most everyone had gone home. Only family was left. Larch, B and JZ decided they were too tired to havens another war. They declared war on the mud swallows instead. While these birds can be pretty, they really are just pests. They build their nests in your eaves, leaving their crap all over your porch. It is not so easy to hit a mud swallow with a paintball. However, it is not impossible. In the course of 6 hours,the boys took out 2. I think they feel they have invented a new sport.

Add caption

R is for Roses

My favorite flowers are Lilies. This is probably because I named my daughter Lily. My daughter is also the reason I have a giant waterlily tattooed on my back, even if it does look like a lotus flower. Once upon a time, however, roses were my absolute favorite.

Gramps, my paternal grandfather, has been growing beautiful roses for as long as I can remember. I'm not just saying that because it's been a long time; I really cannot remember a time in my life when he was not growing roses in  his backyard. 

When we all lived in the Seattle area (the first 11 years of my life), Gramps' entire backyard was a stunning garden. There was a large deck that my dad built over an aggregate patio (this is the same aggregate patio I drug my sister across while "helping" her learn to walk), a small patch of grass, a sparsely wooded area (that grew into thicker woods if you crossed the fence), graveled paths, flowers, and roses.

From the deck, there were two paths to get up into the terraced garden/wooded area. One gently slopped up right in front of the roses. The other started at the top of a very short set of steps by the dog kennels. Star, the mommy German Shorthair, would always bark very loudly walked near the kennel. To a young child, it was very scary and mean sounding. When we took this path, we ran.

The roses were all planted in one large square bed. As a child I was sure Gramps had every color of rose possible. There was even a very light purple that looked almost blue. This one was my favorite. That's probably why I remember it being in the front row, but that may just be where I’ve placed in my mind. I'm old enough now to know that he did not have a large enough lot to grow every possible color.

There were three things my sister and I loved to do in the rose garden: smell the roses, help Gramps cut blooms, and chase the garter snakes. There were two garter snakes that slithered the paths of the garden. Realistically, there were probably more, but we had only ever seen two at once. I blame these snakes for my current desire to own a snake as a pet. Larch keeps telling me no.

Last year for Mother's Day, my children gave me a purple rose bush.  We planted it in the planter box they had made the year before. They should have learned, or at least my husband should have learned, that I cannot keep plants alive. I remember thinking I should call Gramps for advice on keeping the rose alive. I might have called him, but with two kids under 5, I just can't remember. It hasn't sprouted leaves yet this year, but then our maple tree just grew buds this week. I hope it comes back. Perhaps, lilies are not my favorite after all; maybe, I am still in love with roses.

Ten Things Tuesday--O is for Occupational Hazards of Motherhood

1. Your hair, face, and clothes will get covered in bodily fluids, and possibly stuff you can't identify.

2. A Growing Waistline. This can be avoided, but don't ask me how.

3. Fatigue. The sleeplessness does not end when they start sleeping through the night, it just takes a vacation until nightmare season.

4. Inability to Concentrate. My theory is that they ate my brain while I was incubating.

5. You will experience the loss of a sex-life. The libido doesn't die, you just don't have the energy. Or time.

6. Your social life will change. I was gonna say suffer, but it just changes. Your friends are the other moms. You hang out while your kids play at the park. You don't really talk, you just drink your coffee on the same bench.

7. Modesty is not an option. From the moment you step into the delivery room, nothing about your body is safe. Just try to take a shower or go to the bathroom without company. I guess you could lock the door, but then they just scream.

8. Free Time. It does not exist.

9. Lack of Funds. Everything you make will get poured into your children. From diapers, to toys, to new shoes and clothes. And don't forget food.

10. Inexplicable Joy. Even when you are the angriest you have ever been, chances are they will do something to melt your heart and make you love life so much you can't imagine life without them.

N is for Never Alone

Sometimes, when I get overwhelmed, I feel like no one is on my side. I feel so utterly trapped inside my own head and my own malfunctioning emotions that it seem everyone who cares about me and loves me, hads abandon me.

I know this is not true. My husband, the rest of my family, many of my friends will always be there for me. They care deeply about me and want the best for me. More importantly, I know God will never leave me, even if the world was ending. He loves me more completely than any human possibly can. Knowing this, however, does not stop the desperate feeling of hopelessness.

One of the coping skills I am learning to use through  DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) is to self-soothe when dealing with intense emotions. Since music has always been a huge part of my life, it makes sense to use this as one of my methods for soothing myself.  I have a playlist titled SOOTHE on my phone for just such situations. The first song on the list is Never Alone by BarlowGirl. It reminds me that no matter how alone and abandon I feel, God, at least, is always there. With Him, I am never alone.

L is for Love Languages

I am a very odd duck. Instead of reading in the winter when it's cold and smart people are curled up inside, I read in the summer. Ninety percent of my reading gets done between April and September. While my family is playing outside or camping or fishing, I am sitting in the sun, reading.

I just finished reading The Five Love Languages by Gary Champan Wednesday night. (Actually it was Thursday morning). I would definitely recommend this book. There are several different versions: there is the original (meant for couples), the men's edition (so that your husband might actually read it,maybe), the Love Languages of Children, of Teenages, for Singles, and about a bazillion others.

The basic concept is that everyone in the whole world expresses love in one of 5 ways. Kind of like if the whole world only spoke English, Russian, Chinese,Arabic, or not some random African Language. There are lots of dialects within the love languages. Most people "hear" love best in one way over the other four. Knowing this, you can better love your spouse by speaking their love language.

Now that you are already confused, lets look at the 5 languages. They are: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Acts of Service, Gifts, and Physical Touch.

Words of affirmation are spoken. It's saying things to your loved one. Things like, "I love you," or "I'm proud of you," or "you do that really well," or even "you look hot."

Quality Time can be anything from going out to dinner, going on a hike, just sitting and talking or playing board games. The point of quality time is to spend time with your loved one, giving them your full attention and energy.

Acts of Service is doing stuff for people. Most often in marriage, in my opinion anyway, this amounts to doing stuff around the house. Stuff like taking out the garbage, or cooking, or vacuuming. This could also mean getting up to get your mom a glass of ice tea because she prefaced her request with "how much do you love me?" (True story. My mom did that to my sister and I growing up. I tried this with Johnny and he was like "I love you mom, but not if you want me to get you that piece of bread." He's really smart for four years old).

Gifts is sort of obvious. But gifts don't have to be expensive or store bought or even things. Dr. Chapman talked about giving the gift of your presence. This is like when, even though it was a pain and he didn't want to, my husband flew to New Mexico for just under 48 hours to be with me at my family reunion. I wanted him there; it meant a lot to me, and he gifted me his time and his presence.

Physical Touch also seems obvious. This is not, however, just about sex. Physical touch can mean, kisses,  hugs, massages, just touching an arm when you pour his coffee, anything that brings your person in contact with their person in a kind and loving way. This does not including beating your spouse black and blue, unless they like that sort of things, in which case, I really don't want to know.

I am certain Larch's love language is acts of service. He is happiest when the house is clean and dinner is cooked or even if I get up and get him a beer when I don't need anything in the kitchen. I think I speak quality time. My parents think I speak gifts. The assessment at the end of the book say's I'm tied between physical touch and quality time. It is possible to be bilingual. I think my son speaks quality time and my daughter speaks touch. I just started The Five Love Languages of Children this afternoon, so I may change my mind.

I would recommend reading the book. Or at least checking out the website, http://www.5lovelanguages.com/. You can learn the languages, take an assessment, buy the book. It's an easy read and very insightful as to why
marriages start to feel stale and loveless after the honeymoon phase is over.

P.S. Happy Friday the 13th. Maybe my post should have been on luck. ;)

K is for Kindle

I am finally the proud owner of an e-reader. I off buying one because I really enjoy the smell and feel of books. I don't, however, enjoy the bulk and the weight of carrying them around. And when you're reading in the bath, it's hard to keep your fingers dry enough to turn the pages without leaving little watermarks.

I didn't actually buy myself an e-reader; I received my Kindle from my sister, A, for my birthday. I knew it was coming, but not because I am a sneaky present peeker. I was planning to buy myself a Kindle with our tax return, and when I called to ask for my sister's advice (she has had a kindle for a little over a year now) she told me not to buy one. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together; it was only 3 weeks before my birthday. Also, a week before my birthday, she emailed me to ask how important it was that my Kindle could read out loud to me. I didn't even know that was possible.

My Kindle skin. source.

My brother in law, J, and his wife, B, presented me with a $25 gift card for Amazon.com. I was so excited I logged on right then to buy a book (Mercy Blade by Faith Hunter) and a skin for my kindle. (I like to personalize my things.) I also signed up for a free trial of amazon Prime. Prime offers free two-day shipping and access to one book a month from the Amazon readers library.Eighty dollars a year is a great price, it's just not in our budget right now, so I will be cancelling my Prime account after my 30-day free trial is over.

I love my kindle. I can borrow books from my local library and I can borrow from and lend books to other kindle owners. (This is possibly why my sister gave me a Kindle; we read a lot of similar books.) I can also subscribe to a feed from my favorite blogs, but I haven't gotten that part figured out yet. Also, I have very iffy wireless access.

I really love that with the kindle app on my droid smartphone I can sync my devices and read my books even when I leave the kindle at home.My bookmark is in the same spot on my phone and my Kindle. It's great for those moments when you don't plan on being anywhere you have to wait, but lo and behold your child needs stitches and you rush out of the house to the doctor with only your child, your phone and hopefully your ID. Or maybe you just spontaneously decide to take the little ones to the park in the middle of running errands. With the kids, a purse, a diaper bag, a phone and myself to get out the door, my Kindle is not on my list of things I can't leave the house without.

I would totally recommend getting an e-reader. I'm not being paid to say this, I just think they are very cool. I feel very Star Trek reading from an electronic device rather than a paper and ink book. I am 57% through my current book, so if you don't mind, I'm going to go read now.