Random Ramblings

A Romp in the Holly

A couple days ago, we were heading out to door to go to the store when I fell. No particular reason, my ankle was just feeling snarky I suppose. Right into the bushes. I was holding Talitha but thankfully I have experience with that particular type of falling. So she pretty much stayed upright and I faceplanted into the holly. Kate screamed like she was in a haunted house (there is a slight chance she is over dramatic). Jack, to his credit, scurried right over to ask me if I was ok and to take Tali from me. Noah was most likely estimating the distance to the road and plotting his escape. I pulled a sprig of holly from my hair. Like I was about to grab a mug of wassail and go a-caroling. Perhaps sprig is not quite the right word - a small branch is more like it. And it was pretty tangled. I fought to get that thing out, bits of bark flying everywhere, neighbors rubbernecking as they slowly drove by the house. I got up and brushed the sand and the last remaining shreds of dignity off me and marched myself off to the store where class is out of place anyway.

Random Texts

Yesterday I got a text that read "We're heading to Orlando to get away from it all and we're going to stop by Ikea. Do you want me to pick up anything for you? Look at the website and send me a list." I didn't recognize the number so I replied "I do enjoy things from Ikea and while I appreciate your offer, the fact that I don't know who this is is somewhat creepy."

(Here I'm thinking it's my sister's fiance. He loves both Ikea and messing with me.)

"This is Nancy."

"Nancy?"

"Nancy (Last Name). Don't you remember, you were at my house yesterday?"

"At this point, I am convinced this is the wrong number. I spent yesterday eating truffles and wallowing in self-pity."

"Isn't this Robert? Tatiyana's husband?"

"No. But I do wish my name was Tatiyana if that helps."

"Sorry about this. Are you in Jacksonville (based on area code)? We live in Mandarin."

"We're outside of the city a bit. Hey, you could stop by on your way home from Orlando. I'll make scones and we can have tea and you can show me all the pretty things you bought me."

"Haha. I like your sense of humor. You're funny."

"Thank you. So...about my list..."

A Hat Fit for a Kid

At a recent garage sale, I found a John Deere baseball hat and picked it up for $.25. Being the financially responsible (eh, cheap) parents we are, I set it aside for use in Jack's Christmas stocking. He was thrilled and wore it to my parents' house later that day. An astute adult noted that it's not actually a John Deere hat. It's green with a yellow tractor. On closer inspection, it says "Kenny Chesney" under the tractor. Turn the hat around and there's another revelation. In curving letters is the saying "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy."

On an 8 year old head.

So now I'm thinking of taking a Sharpie to it.

"She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy Fuel Efficient."

Glad Tidings and Stuff

Christmas is over and I am feeling a little sad about it. In the last couple days, I heard a few adults make comments to the tune of "Thank Goodness it's over" but I love the season. The hot chocolate, the wrapping, the movies, the anticipation. It's funny how we experience the same thing year after year and know what's coming but it's still exciting. This year we all got to watch Talitha enjoy her first Christmas. Unwrapping her birthday presents was a befuddling experience for her but by Christmas, she quickly realized the happiness that was awaiting her just beyond the wrapping paper. I watched her with joy with past month, knowing that the Author of her life was being introduced to her: that her Great Hope was being born in a manger.

Christmas Eve party - Soup and bread, chicken wings and crab legs, my sister's birthday, cake, and White Elephant presents. Oh and sock monkey hats.

This train table with a box of trains and tracks and bridges and stuff? $15 at a garage sale. It was Noah's gift but we seriously could've gotten it as a family gift and been set.  It is loved.

On the way to my parents' house. Toddlers out.

She is not amused.

We enjoyed Christmas morning at our house with Matt's parents. Matt and I got up early and made a fire and sat and drank warm things waiting for the kids. We opened presents and lit the Advent candles and had breakfast. Around noon we headed over to my parents' house for round 2.

One thing that makes me all squealy happy is that my parents and Matt's parents are friends. They've been friends since I was 6 and Matt was 9 and we lived on the same street in NY. I like the fact that holidays are happily shared now.

The couple days after Christmas the kids and I recovered. By that, of course, I mean that we watched movies and ate truffles.

Yesterday we went to my best friend's parents' party. It was, and I say this in all sincerity, a square dance. The barn was festively lit up and there was a chili cook-off and hay bales. Kate and I did the chicken dance and the electric slide. Matt, as per his usual, sat on the sidelines and tried to pretend the dancing wasn't happening. Jack got roped into the hokey pokey by his friend Will but by the time I ran back with my camera, he had figured out that he was about to be involved in a dance and walked off, disgustedly shaking his head. We had to leave early due to the fact that we brought both 2 year olds to an outside party in the dark with a bonfire and we are stupid. I told Matt that next year we'll get a sitter for the younger two, put on our cowboy boots and dance the night away. He nodded his assent but I'm pretty sure he wasn't really listening and this will be an issue next year.

Cake and Waffles

Today Talitha turned two. It's a momentous day in our family, most likely the first birthday for her that has been celebrated and her initiation into a presents and cake and togetherness that is birthdays.

She has transitioned so well into our family that sometimes I quite forget that she hasn't been here from the beginning. The other day I mused about the fact that Matt and I are brunette and yet all of our kids are blond and I completely forgot that Tali was Chinese. The funny thing is, I think she favors Kate. Little and flexible with Elfin ears. She's the Asian Katie.

Sadly, Matt had to leave yesterday for training so Tali's party was sans Daddy. I made Lo Mein and Honey Sesame Chicken and never did I miss Matt more than when Tali and Noah were each grabbing onto a leg, screaming and crying while I stirred the vegetables. I struggled my way over to the fridge and pulled the ketchup bottle out of the door. That's when I realized that the bottle of caramel ice cream topping had spilled. All over the shelf. On all the bottles, dripping down the back and sides of the fridge door. While the screaming toddlers competed over who could wail the loudest despite roiling bubbles of snot on their faces.

Complete and utter despair of the soul.

The birthday dinner was quite nice. My parents came early and Dad immediately began wrestling with the toddlers while my mom passed out tiny chocolate muffins. It was like Ed McMahon passing out checks.

Matt's parents and my older sister and her fiance came as well. It was wonderful. The food turned out ok, despite my offsprings' best attempts to thwart it. We lit the candle and sang happy birthday and immediately Tali stuck out her lip to cry. I really think the whole thing scared her. I'm sure it was her first time experiencing the whole birthday thing. Which is rather odd, to be sure. A whole bunch of people encircle you, singing in unison, while we place a lit stick of wax in your face.

Face of confusion and terror. The big siblings stepped in to provide comfort. Out the the view of the camera, Noah is staring at the cake and thinking "Shut up with all the singing and serve me, peasants."

 The gifts were a huge hit with the little ones. Noah unwrapped Tali's presents with enthusiasm and cried "Mine!" repeatedly while she admired the Christmas tree lights. I think he's suddenly happy to have Talitha as a sister. His birthday is in July, hers in December. Every 6 months, Noah gets presents - hooray!

She's super serious when she eats. Really - don't bother her when food is involved.

Birthday waffles! Again, no smiling with the food.

Katie was sad that her cupcake didn't have a lot of frosting. Complete despair of the soul.

I let Noah sleep with me last night since Matt was gone. Then Tali wandered in with her little lovey blanket (thanks Deb!) so she got into bed. The big kids came in and we all hugged Tali and said happy birthday. Jack and Kate sang a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday Dear Talicakes!" and we had waffles. I kept trying to get pictures of Tali and her gifts but she doesn't stop moving so most of them are a blur. I had a little birthday playdate with my two friends and their kids. We finished off the day with baths and a chapter of Secret Garden.

Happy Birthday, sweet little Miss Talicakes. I hope you sleep well tonight, in your own crib surrounded by dolls and handmade blankets - with a peace in your soul that you belong to us.

Random Ramblings

Holiday Confusion

A couple of days before Thanksgiving I went to the store. The gas station in front of the store was crazy. No pumps open, cars circling for an opening. Cue my confusion. Was there an apocalypse I wasn't aware of? Did something happen in the Middle East and now there's a run on oil? Why oh why don't I listen to talk radio?

Then I went into the store and it was a madhouse. Like a bunch of toddlers trying to evade naptime. While hopped up on marshmallow fluff. Then it hit me: it was right before Thanksgiving and people were getting their food, filling up their gas tanks on their way to vacation. It bothers me that every Thanksgiving and Christmas I'm confused by the rush of people. You'd think I would've learned by now. But no, I wander around, feeling slightly put-out that others are impinging on my grocery shopping and wondering why there is so much frozen poultry in the store.

Life with Noah

What a ball of cuteness and terror this little guy is.

 He blames his dirty diapers on Talitha. I'll ask "Noah, are you stinky?" and he'll reply "No. Tali pooped." And then I'll check him and say "Noah. You did." And still he'll persist. The evidence is stacked against him and he'll look up at me with his sweet blue eyes and say "Nuh-uh. Tali did."

 Last night at the dinner table, Matt told Noah to sit down and finish his dinner. Noah told him no. We've been stern, we've been sensible. Time-outs, sent to the room, whatever. At that moment, however, Matt stumbled upon Noah's true currency: the bink-binks. He loves those plastic germ-fests. Matt picked up a pacifier and told him "If you ever want to see your bink-bink again, you sit down."

Naturally, I thought of this:

A bink-bink hostage situation. Note scrawled in crayon - If you ever want to see your precious bink-bink again, you'll bring graham crackers...

Then today in the store, I put Noah in the cart (while Tali sat in the buckled seat) and threw a couple cans of crescent rolls in the cart. A few minutes later, I noted that he was setting them up like blocks. "He's growing up," I thought with parental satisfaction. A few minutes after that, I saw that he had somehow popped one open and was quietly gnawing on the dough oozing out from the top.

Yes.

The doughboy.

 

A Stroll in the Park

Today my best friend and I took our kiddos to the park. There's a pavilion there where hooligans hang out. Hooligans engaged in shenanigans. So when we got out, I decided to lock the minivan. Unfortunately, it's a really loud beep when you lock it so it announces to everyone "I don't trust any of you. And I have potentially expensive things in my car." Baby wipes, lonely socks, fuzzy gummy bears. I know you want it.

It's always fun taking eight kids to the park, all under 10 and four under 3. If you see the two of us at a park with furrowed brows, it's because we're mentally adding kids - looking at each other in confusion "I got 13. That doesn't seem right. Are they multiplying?"

The park seems to be on a downward trajectory. Aside from the pavilion of hooligans, we noted that her sweet 2 year old was sitting on a park bench with the phrase "F the police" on it.

Katie on the swing shouted gleefully to us "Look how high I am!"

My friend and I looked at each other. Probably lots of people there could say the same thing.

Southern Living but for Actual People

Last week, I was spending the day at my parents' house while Matt was tirelessly making me money. I thumbed through my mom's latest issue of Southern Living and read aloud all the outrageous and ridiculous things contained therein. On the front cover was this cake:

                                        

You have to make this cake days in advance. It's red velvet and cheesecake in alternating levels. My mom noted that there were only 10 steps to the cake but each step is a novel. Rolling things, stirring things, pouring things, freezing things. For a cake. I don't even put that much effort into my education, for goodness sake. Then they had a whole other section for those decorations. The things on the cake are coconut balls and chocolate leaves. Like painting actual leaves with chocolate and then pulling the dried chocolate off the leaves and placing them artistically around the cake. That's a fair amount of effort for something to be scarfed down by small humans who then finish up the dessert by foraging on the floor for Cheerios and dog fur. Not the mention the red dye-filled diapers I would be changing for days afterward.

Also in the magazine was a spread showcasing the dining rooms of three interior designers and their tips. One had on a ball gown in a red and gold gilt decorated dining room. The place settings had like 17 forks and napkins in the shape of various Mercedes-Benz models. Some of the decorators' tips were things like:

-Never use paper napkins, always cloth. Because I love doing laundry.
-Always use assigned seating with elegant placecards and place people together with similar interests. A table for those who can belch the alphabet, a table for those with IBS, a table for those who would like to discuss how snooty this dinner party is...
-Dinner prep consists of high heels, Christmas music, and a glass of wine. A snuggie, Judge Judy on the tv, and a shot of whiskey...

I was reading these pretentious tips aloud to my mom, who was pouring boxed brownie mix into a disposable aluminum pan and remarking on the broken bits of toys strewn all over the counter. Meanwhile, my toddlers were pushing their baby strollers around. Noah had dutifully strapped his naked baby doll into the stroller before tearing down the hallway and crashing. Safety first. Behind him, Tali was taking an empty container of yogurt raisins for a walk.

It's going to be a classy Christmas this year, I can already tell.

An Insulting Tradition

My family often shows love by teasing. And animosity, come to think of it. It's a fine line.

My older sister and I used to play a game on bus rides to school by telling each other "This is what you sound like" or "This is what you look like" and then acting completely absurd. 

My dad would routinely call us dunderheads and pick us up by our heads. They're actually some of my favorite memories.

Side Note: We moved to Alaska about 10 months after we got married. A couple months after we settled in, we were having dinner with his parents and his dad teased me. I clearly remember thinking "Aw, he loves me, he really loves me!"

When Matt and I first got engaged, it always perplexed me how he reacted to my sarcasm. He went mad with joy if I insulted him, like a gamboling puppy. There were times when I wondered if he had some serious issues. Then we got married and I settled in to the small NY town he grew up in. All the women around him were sweet and kind and fawned over their young youth pastor. 

"Matt, you're so funny"  "Matt, you're such a nice guy" "Matt, you're the epitome of everything that's wonderful in this world."

Stuff like that. What he really needed was some loving insults. Needless to say, we're pretty happily married.

I always bug Matt about starting traditions. Traditions for holidays and birthdays like funny hats or cupcakes for breakfast. I once mentioned making homemade marshmallows for Christmas and he teased me so much that nary a mallow was ever made. Last week I was wasting precious time on Pinterest and found an article on couples Christmas traditions. Images of romantic and sweet activities danced in my hand. Matt and I in front of the fire, wearing chunky turtleneck sweaters, intertwining our steaming mugs of hot chocolate and staring soulfully into each other's eyes...

I bounced into the kitchen and start telling him about this article. 

He gets this look on his face. He is getting ready to mock me. Hands aflutter, voice falsetto. He says:

"We could make snowflakes! Every year we'll cut out a special snowflake and decorate it with glitter. Then we'll put them into a scrapbook and we'll look at it all the time and say "Oh, here's the snowflake from 2016! Aw, remember that?" And then we can take our snowflakes outside and dance and recite Christmas poems to each other."

To which I say "Fine we won't do anything at all. Ever. And I'm making this into a blog post." Which is now my insult of choice.

Getting to Know You

I kept meaning to write a post at 1 month post adoption, 1 month home, 2 months post adoption, whatever. But life is messy sometimes and I am just not good at keeping things together, as anyone who has read my blog at all before knows. We've had Talitha for, eh, 9 weeks or so. In some ways, it seems strange to have her here and we're still getting used to things with our brand new toddler. But mostly, it just feels right. She has fit in really well and while there are certainly some difficult things, it has gone smoothly so far.

Here are the things we know about our sweet Tali so far:

• She is sassy. My goodness. She is very opinionated about what she wants and likes. If you try to hold her and she doesn't want you, she will slap your hand away and turn her cute little face away. Denied! 
• She eats most everything. Especially noodles, which she ate and ate and ate in China when we first got her. She is not crazy about the spinach in salads but we're working on it. She still raises her bowl or plate to lick it clean and she's gained 3 lbs since we've had her (from 15 to 18 lb). 
• She started walking about 3 weeks ago. She still walks like an adorable young toddler, arms out for balance, concentrating hard on what she's doing. She'll be running soon on her getting-stronger legs.
• She adores Jack, distrusts Noah (with good reason), and tolerates Kate with indifference. It breaks Kate's heart as she wants to baby Tali and snuggle her. It doesn't bother Noah one bit, he is too busy screaming "No" at everyone to care.
• She wants to be loved. Really, really wants to be loved. It's sweet and heartbreaking at once. Biological kids want to be loved, of course. Everyone does. But this is markedly different. When I walk by her without picking her up, she screeches a high-pitched cry of "Mom! Mom! Mom!" It's a cry of distress, unlike anything I've heard in a child. She will often take my hand and stroke her face with it which makes me want to cry. It reminds me that she is a child who has lost her mother a couple times and didn't have one to constantly hold her and hug her and kiss her. My biological kids like to be snuggled but not too much. They will tolerate it for a bit and then take off. Tali wants to be stroked and kissed and held often. I am making up for lost time and happy to do it. 
• She understands more and more when Matt and I kiss her. I often pucker up my lips so she can see my face and then slowly kiss her cheek. Now she expects it. She will lean in with her lips puckered, expecting a kiss from us. When I kiss her cheek, she will pull back a little and then lean back in for the kiss, over and over. Every time she is kissed and held and hugged, she is healing a little bit and it is balm to this Mama's soul.
• She is adorable. And she is loved.

Halloween and Freedom

The afternoon of Halloween, we had to run to a couple stores. The kids wanted to wear their costumes. I had a purple and black witch hat and the kids asked if I could wear it to the store.

Why not? It's probably how they see me anyway. They're looking around "But Mom, where's your costume?"

Everyone was all smiles as we paraded through the stores. The kids were darn cute indeed. Especially Noah, in his soft racecar costume, weaving through the aisles. Lots of people grinned at me, wonderful parent I am - showing up in a witch's hat and making my children's holiday that much more special. 

It wasn't until I was loading Tali in her carseat after both errands had been run that I noticed the top 2 or 3 buttons on my blouse had come undone. 

I wasn't a witch - I was a slutty witch. I, who hate the degradation of women's costumes, had become one of them. 

Later that evening, we had soup and bread and went out trick-or-treating. 

Tali didn't really go trick-or-treating. I think it's such an obvious ploy for parents to get candy if their child is too young to understand what's happening. It's much better to have a child like Noah, who can walk up and ask for candy but is young enough that I can reach into his pumpkin and steal his candy without him caring.

After awhile, his carsuit got all smushed from getting in and out of the back of the van so much. He ended up looking like an advertisement for a lawyer referral service. "Did you recently have a car accident? You might have whiplash and need to sue somebody..."

The glare on the glasses makes it more comical than creepy...

The next day my best friend and I had our weekly playdate. Between us, we have 8 children. 8,7,6,5,2,2,almost 2, and newborn. Needless to say, we are both looking pretty scruffy. I had cleaned out the fridge earlier that afternoon and a nastier job is still to be found. My hair had not been washed in a couple days and I just shoved the mess back into a ponytail. She has recently given birth and was wearing a shirt with what I can only assume is spit-up on the shoulders. She had braided her hair at some point, maybe a week ago by the looks of it.

Neither of us have worn make-up or shoes with heels in who knows how long. Our time together consists of screaming and tantrums. Sometimes the kids act up too. We were talking about how much we'd love to be able to just shoot off to the store by ourselves. 

After I got home, I was telling Matt that I'd like to go to a nearby shopping center with my mom. I was asking him his plans for the next day (Saturday) and whether I could leave a couple kids with him. He said "Tonight would be better. You could even go by yourself if you want to."

You can bet your sweet bippy that I was on the phone to my mom before he could realize the full implications of what he was saying. 

Kate overheard me on the phone and when she realized she wasn't going, followed me around the house crying. 

Earrings in, shirt changed to something almost nice, small purse with no diapers or pacifiers taken...

Crying, screaming, gnashing of teeth. Oh the humanity. 

As I kissed Matt goodbye (and hugged him fiercely - oh, I was happy!), he held out a fretful Tali. "Are you sure you don't want to take her with you?"

"Can't hear you, I'm practically in the car already!"

I kid you not, as I was backing the van out of the garage, I cackled with delight. Cackled like a, well, you know. When you stay at home with young children, it's amazing how exhilarating a trip to Target by yourself can be. It's like winning the lottery or being elected President of the country. I don't think I'm exaggerating. 

One of the local stations was playing pop music from the 90's so I sang Beyonce and TLC at the top of my lungs. I made that minivan look good.

I walked into Kohl's like this:

Giddy. There is no other word for it. My arms felt weird too. Like they should have been holding someone or carrying a diaper bag or pulling a toddler away from the lingerie section before he yells "Mama's boobs?" too loudly.

My mom and I tried on shoes (I got short boots so my huge calves wouldn't take away my joy of the evening) and went out for dinner. While waiting for our check, my mom signaled to what she thought was our waitress.

"Mom, that's not our waitress."
"It's not? What does she look like?"
"This one is blonde with hair around her shoulders. Ours has brown hair pulled into a bun."
"Oh."

Not 2 minutes later, she's trying to get the same woman's attention.

"Mom! She doesn't have our check. It's not our waitress."

Then one last time, trying to flag down the blonde not-our-waitress.

We were laughing so hard that people around us were becoming concerned.

I went shopping with my mom, had some good food and girly drinks and not one time did I ever say anything remotely close to "Don't put your hand in your diaper! It's poopy!"

Now that's a good time.

Diapers on the Doormat

We had a friend over for dinner a couple days ago. It's hard when people come over sometimes because the children act like we have never seen another human ever. We're spinning and leaping about and shouting things. If you listen real hard, you might hear the faint sounds of "Look at me! Look at me!" coming from every pore in their bodies. I asked them why they go crazy when people are over and then immediately sit and read quietly after guests have left. Kate said it's because they're used to me being there and it's boring.

I am so sorry you are not constantly entertained. It is breaking my heart.

As in keeping with the tradition that we are overenthusiastic about guests, the kids waited by the road for our guest and danced.

Kate made a nice sign for our guest. 

 I made brownies earlier that day for dessert so my 13x9 pan was out of commission. I put the ground beef in another container but realized halfway through cooking that the breaker to the oven flipped off for no apparent reason. This baby isn't cooking fast enough. So I split it into two pans and cut it into squares. Because for me, presentation is everything.

Darn right that's how I served it.

Then your guest comes over and you notice your kids doing things like this:

Yes. I got a picture before I told him to stop. Parenting high fives all around.

Then today a good friend came over. My goodness how I love her. She is kind and encouraging and full of God's goodness. I was telling her about reading a great article about the importance of obedience in children. Jack had disobeyed me earlier that day so, article in mind, I proceeded to lecture him. Because we all know that lectures are the way to a kid's heart. I don't know why I blab on long after the glassy stare has set in. But I always do. Perhaps deep down I'm expecting my kids to look at me with wide eyes and exclaim "Thank you Mother, you have changed my life. I see the error of my ways. I will always remember this day, the 29th of October..."  Something like that.

This particular lecture was amazing though. It had dramatic pauses, poignant phrases and eye-opening examples. I told Jack that actions always have consequences, good or bad. When you choose to disobey, you're also choosing a consequence. There were examples like running a red light and getting a ticket, throwing a ball up and it falling back to Earth, and even marrying a not-so-great person. I was even inspiring myself. At the end of my lecture, all Jack says is: "You don't have to talk about a ball falling back to Earth. I already know about physics."

It was soul crushing, y'all.

Anyway, I was having a great talk with my friend about obedience and parenting and not being able to keep the house clean (all while my kids are acting like crazed dingoes and the dog fur has given the baseboards a lovely golden hue). Then I opened the front door (probably to yell at somebody) and spot a diaper on the welcome doormat. The dog had apparently gotten a hold of a used one and taken it outside to thrash about and deposit on the front steps. 

Yes, my friend had stood there and knocked on my door, right next to a dirty diaper. 

I lamented this shame to my friend and in keeping with her awesomeness, she said "Who cares?"

She told me to focus on what matters and the rest is just french fries.

Well amen to that.

Love and Cakes

Today some friends gave a welcome shower for Talitha. 

Is this cake not the cutest?

She happily spent several minutes going from arms to arms. 

                                     

We are overwhelmed by the love we have been shown. Every step of this adoption process, we were covered in prayers and kind words and good wishes from all around. One day Talitha can look at these words and pictures and know that she was loved and wanted from the very beginning.

Adoption is hard. Super hard. By far the hardest thing I've ever done. I've never been so emotionally drained, so stressed, so elated, so focused on pieces of paper. There were bitter tears and prayers from face-down on the floor, lots of zeros written on the checks and moments of panic.

All along the way, though, love was there. Love came in the form of friends and family who prayed for a girl they didn't yet know; love kept a little one with a broken heart alive in an orphanage - one blue-faced day at a time.

Our pastor often says that hurt people hurt people. The opposite is also true - loved people love people.

Today I was reminded yet again of His goodness and kindness towards me. Today I read sweet cards and unwrapped boxes of diapers and gift bags of pink clothes intended for an beloved daughter who was once a sick orphan and I saw a glimpse of who He is and who He is pressing me to become.

Those of us who have been swept up in the all-consuming love of the Most High? We love. We're not always the best at it but the closer we get to Him, the more His love rubs off on us.

We are surrounded by people who know know how to love well.

I want to love better. I want to love even when it's hard - no, especially when it's hard. When it's costly and painful and nothing is certain. When the risk is great and hope lingers just beyond view, that's when it matters most.

Loved people love people.

And Matt and I? Have been greatly loved.

Random Ramblings

Family Pictures

We had family pictures done the other evening by our wonderful photographer friend. Before the pictures, Matt and I were getting ready and said to him "Aw, I have a zit on my face." He replied "That's ok. She can photoshop that right out. I'm hoping she'll give me a full head of hair."

After the applying of the makeup (during which I ran out of eyeliner and couldn't find my new mascara so I had to use the old tube - my makeup skills are like a cry for help), I went out to get dressed.

Immediate depression.

I finally found an outfit I was halfway satisfied with and decided to wear one of those bodyshaper tank tops underneath my shirt. If there's ever a time to wear something that slims, it's during a professional photoshoot. Have you ever put one of these tank tops on? Good gravy, it's like being born. After several minutes of struggling and grunting, I finally got the top on. Sigh of relief. It was then that I casually looked down and saw the tag sticking out. Yes. It was on backwards.

I whip it off (well, it took several minutes to get it back off). Forget it. It's not worth it. So I'm a little extra cuddly in the pictures, so what?

Beware of Dog

I went back to work for the first time after we've had Talitha home (I work about one 12 hour shift a week, usually on the weekends when Matt is home. I am a kept woman and I like it).  After I came home this past Saturday, Toby was really excited and kept wagging his tail and licking me. It couldn't be that I smelled any different. Surely I've come home drenched in MRSA before. At first I was really touched. He missed me. Then I remembered reading stories about how dogs can sense things about people. It depressed me a little, thinking the dog was just happy to have me home again when in reality he was probably just trying to warn me of a brain tumor or something. He's over there spelling out CAT SCAN with his kibbles...

A Batch of Disappointment

You know when you're pretty good at making something so you feel pretty confident before people come over? I was baking cookies for our small group yesterday. Basic chocolate chip cookies, I've made them hundreds of times before. Usually they turn out really well when it's just my husband and kids at home and they get eaten without anyone stopping long enough to admire them. But when you have people over? That's when the bread burns and the lasagna is watery and the cookies come out all flat and weird and it's painfully obvious that you don't know what you're doing in life.

Cover those puppies with some ice cream and serve them anyway, that's what I say.

Social Skills and Bachelor Classes

Excuse me, your homeschooledness is showing again...

Taking all four kids to the store is an interesting prospect these days. Noah used to be quite content sitting in the front of the cart. I could let him sit them and hold Tali in a wrap but she gets so hot it's uncomfortable for both of us. So Tali sits in front and Noah sits in the main section, wreaking small havoc on the groceries as they are placed in the cart. Once we reach the produce aisle, he is let free. Exhilarating for him, exhausting for me.

A sweet potato! Grapes! Sprinkler system on over the vegetables! Guacamole mix! I love everything!

After the harrowing 15 minutes in the produce section, he is corralled to the check out lines. Or what is known as toddler hell. Candy on one side, toys on the other and nothing at all for sad, poor Noah. He clutches the 3 pack of Matchbox cars to his chest and I tell him we can get them for Christmas. He has no sense of calendar or time and deep down I know this but I still tell him.

This past week we were being checked out and I was making small talk to the cashier, a girl around 20 or so. She asked the kids "Are you skipping school today?"

(People ask this all the time. Listen, if we were having a skip day, grocery shopping at Walmart is not where we would go.)

Jack replied that they were homeschooled.

The look appeared on the cashier's face. Eyes slightly widened. Thoughts racing in their heads "My goodness, I had no idea."  "Where are the denim jumpers?" "Why is this mom buying wine - and a box of it, no less?"

She then told my kids "It always looks so cool in the movies (what movies?) but I would hate to be with my mom all day."

Thank you for that.

Then she said to me "How will they meet people?"

Hello??? 

We're at the store...talking to you.

She asked them what grade Jack and Kate were in and they told her 2nd and 1st. She jokingly asked Noah what grade he was in. Jack replied "He's just learning how to behave in the world. He's only been here a couple years." Then he pats Noah on the head and says "He's learning to be self-conscious."

She looks at me and says "Yup, he's homeschooled."

Walking Around

We went for a walk today. Kate made sure she was appropriately cute.

You know how you have an idea of how something is supposed to be? Like when you go to Disneyland and expect it to be like a commercial - everyone laughing and holding hands, riding rollercoasters, fireworks, Mickey picks you a flower and bashfully hands it to you? And then you get there and the water is $6 and people are complaining of the sun in their eyes, the lines are ridiculous, and Mickey is making obscene gestures at Minnie.

That's what going on a walk with kids is like. Or really anything, for that matter. The older two were trying to race each other, strollers up on two wheels rounding a ditch. Someone was burning leaves and the smoke was irritating everyone. One house has a pack, literally a pack, of hunting dogs who get all Miley Cyrus crazy when people walk by.

You get home and everyone's all grumpy. Endorphins my foot.

Bachelor Classes and Om

The professor of the nursing bachelor classes is very sweet and has a lot of interesting ideas on stress. Once before a test, she had everyone hold a rock and transfer their worries to the rock.

Yeah.

This past Tuesday we began the class with a tai chi routine. Nothing like starting off the class with an acute loss of dignity. Later we wrote down 3 things we wanted to have more of and 3 things we wanted to get rid of. We then inhaled while raising our arms and receiving those things and then exhaled the stuff we didn't want.

Except I got confused so in my mind I said things like "I receive body fat and I get rid of joy. NO WAIT! I didn't mean it - I take it back!"

Now I'm all stressed.

This and That and Soup

First off, Talitha is doing well. She and the other kids are all doing great with each other. Sure, there is the occasional tug-of-war over mom but it does make me feel super popular. Talitha will be sitting next to me on the couch. As long as she's touching me in some way, she's happy. Noah will spot her touching me and all of a sudden he loves me dearly, even though for the majority of the time he doesn't seem to notice me at all. I am the giver of juice and that's about it. So he'll pile on me and lay his head on my shoulder like he actually loves me. She will squawk and try to edge him out. They are both fighting over my affection and I think "I finally know how the cool kids feel."

Yesterday the kids played in the pool. Toby killed a snake, which he was quite proud of. It seemed like a harmless garden snake, which was very sad. We watched a toad hop along and ate fresh figs from our tree. Good things.

The marks on the fence? That's me with the lawnmower.

Mmm, figs!

Today I had planned to make cauliflower soup and biscuits and take some to my bestie, who just had her fourth baby. Noah did not sleep at all for naptime but I had to run to the store for ingredients this afternoon because I am nothing if not a good planner of time. Tali was fussy so I carried her in the sling. Noah sat in the cart and rubbed his eyes and generally looked stoned. At one point, I was wearing Tali and pushing Noah and making threatening remarks about behavior to Jack while Katie sadly nodded her head at him, like she was disappointed in his choices. It was around that time that someone I knew turned around the corner and ran into us. From threatening my kids through clenched teeth to a very bright "Hi, how are you? How are we doing? Oh, just fine - couldn't be better!"

Says the mom with a clingy sweaty baby on her hip, a red-eyed toddler in the cart and two young kids, both of whom are probably scouting the crowds for a nicer mom. "Look at the juice she's buying. No preservatives, organic, and each fruit picked gently in the moonlight. That's the one."

I got home around 4 pm. Here's a rundown of me making soup tonight:

-I browned the butter in the pans and chopped the veggies. I'm making a triple batch, one for my friend and two for us. Lots of math. Which was probably my first mistake.

-Realized that I only bought two heads of cauliflower when I needed three. Why did I think I already had one? Looked in the veggie drawer - oh. That's a cabbage. So my family got a nice mix of cauliflower and cabbage in the soup. They both grow in the ground. Similar enough. 

-I forgot to buy chicken broth. I have one box, which is 4 cans. I need 24. So I googled 'Chicken broth substitute.' Among them is white wine. So I rummage through the cupboard. How about a wine cooler?"

-Big kudos to me that I remembered that chicken broth has a lot of sodium so if I was just using water and boullion, I would have to use salt. Sprinkled liberally throughout cooking. It was after I dropped the meal off at my friend's that I noticed the salt shaker was closed. I do that so the kids can sprinkle away without actually using any salt. So...not much in the seasoning department.

-I made some biscuits in my beloved cast iron skillet. I placed the skillet on the counter after the biscuits were done. Minutes later I saw that the milk lid was sticking out under the pan. I lifted the pan up. The one that minutes ago was in a 450 degree oven. Lid melted. Fingers burned. I drove the whole way to my friend's house with my hand in front of the air conditioner vent to cool it off.

Later I carried Noah and Tali to the bathtub, as they were both covered in broth and biscuit crumbs. As I passed by the mirror, I noticed that my one-day-old haircut was not quite what it was yesterday. My side swept bangs have now feathered. I've got a popular haircut. It's just 30 years late. 

Then Talitha had an unfortunate accident in the tub. We got the rubber duckies out just in time. She clenched her teeth when I tried to brush them and Noah stuck one of her flower petals from her towel in his mouth and pulled her head over til she screamed.

Stick a fork in this day. It's done.