Thanksgiving in Canada

So, after hollering that I wouldn't get on another damned plane again until someone died, I realized that I actually might want to see my dad before...well before he fit the terms of my threat. Especially after my Ultra Wheedling wasn't working on mom.

Turns out dad's not up to traveling anywhere anymore.

Thus the abrupt about face on the topic and all 5 of us getting up and out with our 2 car seats, 1 booster seat, 1 giant rolling suitcase, 2 smaller rolling suitcases, a giant baby bag, a computer bag, 2 umbrella strollers and Caitlin's knapsack. Plus a whiny 8 year old ("I'm bored!" Girl, we're just on the BUS leaving the airport PARKING AREA. Can you hold the whining for the moment?!), twins that don't care to be strapped into their umbrella strollers and two adults loaded down like pack mules. This is the part that I loathe. Fortunately we can put the big heavy stuff in the care of the airline and then just lug the twins, strollers, Caitlin, and carry-ons around.

And this is us traveling light. At least, as light as we can.

So we make it through security (Hey, guess what? The security level is still at Orange. Which still doesn't mean a damned thing.) with a minimum of screaming and get on the plane when we realize that in all of the frenzy we didn't pack any toys or books for the twins. Um...snacks I have, plus water bottles. No toys. So I spent the better part of the first flight making the inflight magazine as fascinating as possible for Emma. Eric had Logan, so I assume they were discussing the finer points of computer programming or something. Since I had the snacks, Emma was happy.

They all travel pretty well, those kids. There were only two incidents of screaming and once Emma told me "Ears! Ears!", I was able to resolve that problem with the rapid application of chocolate chips. To eat, you see. Popped her ear drums very nicely and kept her occupied.

So we made it to Canada, with all of our children and all of our gear. Mom and dad met us at the airport and we all piled into this e-NOR-mous vehicle they rented. It was bigger than a small moon and had not one but two DVD players mounted into the roof, seating for 7 and heating controls to make just about everyone perfectly happy. It handled like a pregnant yak, but boy did it ever fit everyone nicely! We dropped mom and dad off at their place and then drove over to Cindy's house where we woke almost everyone up upon our arrival at TWO A.M. local time. Yup. Fortunately, she forgave me for that and for bringing sniffly germ-ridden twins to stay at her house for a week.

"Iz OK. I got de drugs!"
And yes that is yet another black eye. Sigh. He fell on a toy truck. Face first.

The twins were excited to have Natasha to play with...

Natasha - my only niece! Cheek squeeze!

and all of her toys.

"Yes, I AM playing with a pink castle. What's it to YOU?!"

My nephew Daniel was thrilled to see Caitlin again and they two spent alot of time together doing this:

Videos. Braiiiiins leaking out on the floor.

Caitlin also enjoyed playing with buckets of toys that weren't hers and reading tons of books she'd never seen before.

Transformer Buzz Lightyear? Who knew?!

Cindy has this ingenious device across the doorway beween the living room and the kitchen.

Stormin' the gates, 2 year old style.

I believe it's called a "gate". I totally want one that will keep the twins out of MY kitchen.

So we squeezed 4 adults and 5 kids into Cindy's 3 bedroom house and it was great.

My long suffering brother-in-law, Jason. I broke the kitchen sink. Sorta. It was totally breaking before I got there! I swear!

We hung around, talked, and ate. I got suckered into reading Twilight and the other three books in the series because Cindy made me. Then she made me watch the movie. It's totally all her fault. Yup.

Cindy snuggles Emma and Natasha, who totally looks like she has a secret in this picture.

The fudge, peppermint bark and all of the jam I brought all made it there in one piece, so I handed it all out as early Xmas presents. Cindy cooked up a storm, made some really awesome Amish bread and put up with me making a mess in her kitchen to make some AB5M Challah bread, cinnamon muffins and rolls from the same batch of dough. (I love how versatile that stuff is!) We didn't really go anywhere, other than grocery shopping. We didn't really do anything other than hang out.

It was good.

Mom and dad came over to visit a couple of times.

Waiting for Grandpa.

The kids wreak havoc on my father's nerves with the Alzheimer's thing going on, so they don't tend to stay for very long.

Us? Nerve wracking? We don't know what you mean, mother!

We celebrated a late Turkey Day on Friday, since Jason was working on Thursday. Mom brought tons of food because that's what she does. A turkey AND a roast beef. And stuffing and chips and several sides. Also, dessert and rolls that a friend at church gave her since they knew we were coming. We were swimming in food.

"Gramma? You gives me choklits? Peese?"

Emma clearly is practicing her wheedling skills on my mom in this picture. I don't know what she wanted, but I'm pretty sure that my mom gave it to her.

"I gonna eat dis pie. I like pie!"

It struck me, after dinner was over, that if I didn't take some pictures quick, I'd completely miss the chance since we would be leaving at 3 a.m. So I started snapping away.

This is what it would be like to have triplets. Only, louder.

Turns out that Daniel isn't overly excited to have his picture taken.

Four of five cousins.

We had to threaten him with dire consequences, so this is the only picture I have of all five of them together.

Because, of course, once Daniel was ready, Logan was done.

"Do you SEE what I have to put up with? Amateurs!"

No, they wouldn't look at me.

Gamma, I hang out wif you now. I heer you gots choklits.

Aunt Cindy, Emma, Dad, Logan and Mom.

Finally, after everyone was gone, I realized that I didn't have a single picture of Cindy and I together. Until now.

My baby sister and me. She's not such a baby anymore.

There you have it. A week in Canada, in the rain, celebrating the American Thanksgiving and hanging out with my family. I can hardly wait to do it again next year!

Thanks so much for having us Cindy! You're a rock star!

Domestic Bliss

We're back!


We ran off to Canada to have turkey with my parents, kid sister and her family last week. Now I have a bunch of photos to edit before I can really write anything significant about it other than this: I had a great time. As did all of the kids. Four adults, five children, one house. Everyone got along fantastically well except for the occasional scrabbling over toys. Enh. Kids.

Regarding domestic bliss...well, mostly I feel like I'd be most blissful if I could outsource all of the cleaning, cooking, diaper changing, baby wrangling, bill paying and a large amount of the tedious gardening, but when Emma fell asleep on the couch this afternoon I decided on a new definition.

Sleeping babies = domestic bliss.


A lot of it has to do with the fact that once they're asleep, the house becomes very quiet and peaceful, but watching them sleep is so very sweet that I really can't imagine life without them.

So...yeah.

I still struggle with the tedious amounts of work it takes to raise children and keep a house (Where's my Rosie The Robot?!), but there are silver linings in the shape of the people that love me.

First Haircuts!

Oh no you didn't!

Oh yes I did!

Mr. Scruffy

Mr. Scruffy didn't appreciate the cape at all until it was pointed out that Mater and Lightning McQueen were on it, then he let it stay. Grudgingly. He chose a car to sit in, of course. I distracted him with views of the pictures in my camera.

Making a ponytail.

Sniiip!

I almost missed this part. Good thing the stylist asked if I was ready!

Ka-chop!

There go all of those luscious curls! *sniffle* I almost cried, but then I decided that it's just hair and if I really missed it, it was OK since it can all grow back again. Lookit me being all adult!

Wow!

Suddenly you can see his face!

Who IS this?!

He looks just like his cousins, Max and Axl. Probably Daniel, too.

So ready to be outta there!

He was so ready to get down, he wouldn't even let me get a good final shot. Stinker!

And then it was Emma's turn. She was a lot more sanguine about the cape and seemed to enjoy watching in the mirror.

Mirror, mirror on the wall.

"What is that lady doin' to mah hair?!"

A little off the bottom.

A little off the top.

At this point Emma decided she needed to switch from the hippo seat to the snail seat and nothing we could do would change her mind. Fortunately, they're professionals, so we all we just slid over and everyone was happy. Both of the twins were remarkably mellow throughout the whole process with very little head twisting or wriggling.

Look at those curls!

One day, if she gains more volume, we might just try cutting it in layers to see if it will all curl. Eeee!

Time for a fancy 'do.

Eric reads to Emma to keep her in the chair. New 'do is almost complete!

Then, suddenly, it was all over. Painless and pretty.

It is a pretty serious change, to look at Logan now. We'll probably keep doing double-takes when we look at him, for awhile!

"Got mah cell phone. Gonna call mah boyz."

Emma sits, enthralled with a book and her pretty new hairdo.

Surprised?

Not everyone likes snow

We had another snow day (although since it happened on a weekend, no schools were closed this time) and since I finally had snow boots for the twins, clearly an outing in the snow was required.

Did you know that it takes about twenty minutes to dress a pair of twins in snowsuits, coats, gloves (one refused), hats and boots? Yup. And then you have to say a little prayer to the Powers That Be that neither twin decides, once they are fully dressed, that they suddenly need a diaper change.

So, 20 minutes after my fantastic! idea to take them outside into the snow to mess around for a bit, I popped them onto the deck. The snow came up to their knees. They stood there and stared.

Dis stuff iz code.

They were stuck. I had to kick a pathway in the snow for them, in order to get them down into the yard. Then they stopped and stared again. Then, overloaded by hats, gloves, boots, snowsuits and coats, they fell over one by one, like toddler sized dominoes.

Seriously unhappy snow covered, dominoes.

"Hep me!"

Logan refused to wear gloves, so of course, he started screaming about his cold-pained hands.

"Aaaaaaiieeeeeee!"

Yes, I photographed them screaming in the snow. Why? Because after 20 minutes of wrestling toddlers into snowsuits I'd better get something out of this than just soggy, screamy toddlers!

Now that it's been a few days and the snow is melting, the twins like it a lot better. Puddles are clearly meant to be jumped in. Puddles are fun.

Snow isn't. At least, not yet.

Maybe next year.

The Great Mouse Invasion: 2009

Yes, it's begun again.

Winter has finally struck. It got very very cold

This is the back deck after the first day of snowfall.

So much snow it built up on the trellis!

and the mice have decided to migrate indoors. Into my boiler room/pantry in the basement. Then, just for grins, they decide to scamper around inside the heating ducts on their way to the kitchen and take a sniff around.

Unfortunately for them, there are cats in the house.

Domino receives credit for the capture this year. I was reading with Kaboom on my lap and heard a great deal of scampering in the kitchen; not wanting to get up (and with a cat on my lap, I couldn't), I ignored it until I finished my book. Then I went off to find out what Domino was up to. Kaboom, however, had other plans and stole Domino's new toy.

That doesn't look...comfortable.

I find it odd that the scaredy cat is the better mouser and the more aggressive one will defer to him until he saw an opportunity to steal his mouse back from Kaboom.

Domino (white cat) makes his plans for mouse retrieval. Kaboom (black cat) double dog dares him to take it.

I also learned that it's apparently difficult to growl and hiss with a mouthful of mouse. I didn't know that until this episode.

In the end, I called for Eric to come and take the mouse (still alive) away from Domino who was in danger of losing it in the front entryway amongst all of our shoes. Did you know that water glasses and paper work just as well for mouse removal aids as they do for spider removal aids?

Yes, yes they do.

Eric tossed the mouse outside into the 2 foot plus drifts in our front yard and that was they end of that.

The question I keep coming back to in my mind is not: "Why do we have mice?". The question should be "Why don't we have MORE mice?" It's crumb central* around here with the Twin Food Flingers. We should have entire ARMIES of mice.

Where are they? I don't think the 17 I caught in the yard this summer made a serious dent in the local mouse population and the two we caught inside in traps, can't have been it. I guess I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Well, it could be worse. They could be [stage whisper] cockroaches.

[Shudder!]






* How often is "normal" for floor sweeping? Once a day? Once every other day? Once an hour? Cuz this floor could be swept hourly and still I'd be catching crumbs and that just ain't right.

Twenty Five Months

Wait. Do I still have to do these by months? Two years and a month doesn't have the same ring about it, does it?

A lot has happened over the past month. Here's the recap:

1. Since Emma looked like she was about to vault over the side of her crib, we removed both cribs and put the mattresses on the floor. The twins now sleep, side by side, on the floor without bars keeping them from escaping. We do make sure we shut their door, though.
   
   "Dis mah bed. Dis mah brudder. He crazy."
   
   
2. Emma finally said Logan's name...yesterday. He can say her name, as can she, but neither said Logan until I asked her to yesterday ("Yogan"). She still just calls him "Brudder" or "baby".
3. Both of the twins refer to Caitlin as "Kay-Kay" or "sissy".
4. We've started trying a little potty training and Emma peed in the potty once (this past week!)! Singing and dancing ensued. No further potty action has taken place. Phoo. Logan wants nothing to do with the potty, but is happy to tell you that he needs a new "diapah". As in, "Diapah wet." or "Poopie! Poopie diapah."
5. We took the whole family out to see Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs this past Sunday. It was the first movie the twins have ever seen in a theatre! It went pretty well! They stayed on our laps for the first half of the movie and then needed to get down. Since we were in the second row of seats and it was a pretty empty theatre, they had the entire first row to walk around in and the main aisle to run around in while the movie played on. At one point, each twin separately came up, sat in my lap, grabbed my head and gave me a big old smooch. Just 'cause. Sweet!
6. We stopped using the highchairs and now have the twins eating at the table with us, on regular chairs, with regular spoons and forks. The Mess Index just shot up by a factor of 10. Ugh.
   
   "Oat meeuhl. Iz gud."
   
   
7. They've gained a huge pile of words in the last month. I'd like to tell you what they are, but it's been a blur. Except that they no longer like to say just "No.", but "No way!". At some point, I'm sure they'll switch to "Oh hell no!", but that may be awhile. Logan's new phrase is "Come back!", mostly uttered to escaping kitties. Emma likes to say "I gonna getchu! I gonna getchu, fishies!" and no, I have no idea how that originated. Too much Finding Nemo?
   
8. At their 2 year wellness check, we again verified that Emma is 4 ounces heavier than Logan and a couple of inches taller. He's still in the 3rd percentile, but still totally trending upwards on his very own curve. Emma is in the 10th percentile, but also still curving upwards. Yet they both have 50th percentile noggins. Go figure.
   
9. Their ridiculous levels of agility and fearlessness means they like to climb to the very top of the play structure and slide down the biggest slide. Oh yes, it does.
   
10. Both twins have discovered a new, unholy love of chasing Domino around and laughing like complete maniacs. The cat does not appreciate the exercise. I have to fight to not cackle out loud and instead insist they treat him gently and move them away when it seems like they have him cornered. I'm pretty certain there's only so much he's going to put up with before he comes out swingin'. Kaboom, on the other hand, is totally happy letting either twin pet his belly. And he's the scaredy cat!
11. Logan has discovered a new and enduring love of cars. He received a little wooden one for his birthday and slept with it for weeks. Now when we go out, he has to have a car and his blankie. And a water bottle. My arms are getting awfully full.
    
    Tiny orange car in kung-fu action grip left hand.
    
    
12. Emma is a monkey. Yes, you already knew that. However, on Monday she climbed straight up a 6' tall seedling rack I had in the backyard. She was able to go up, but not down. Caitlin, who had been outside with the twins, yelled for help. When I came out onto the deck, I saw Emma almost all the way at the top and had an inner freak out. Then she started saying, "Hep me! Hep me!" in her tiny voice and it totally cracked me up; she was my kitten stuck in a tree. I plucked her off the rack and she clung to me happily. I don't think she's "learned her lesson", but I do think she was relieved to be rescued.
13. The twins have been practicing going down the stairs like big people do: forwards. Mostly this seems to involve yelling from the top step "Hand! Hand!" until you oblige them and help them down the stairs. Sometimes they hold onto the rail as they go down instead, but they sure seem to like yelling "Hand! Hand!" a lot more.
    
    "I go downstairs. I gotta take dis call."
    
    
    
    In case you're wondering why she's wearing a winter jacket and pjs, the answer is: she's two.
    
    "I'm comin' down, you bedder move."
    "I'm goin' up. YOU bedder move!"
    
    
    
14. I feel certain they had their first sentence in this last month, but damned if I can remember what it was! "Dat's good!" comes up often in reference to something I made for dinner. "What's dat?" or "What's dis?" comes up all the time, but doesn't count as a sentence.
15. There's been a big increase in the amount of "Peese!" I get on a daily basis. Color me "pleased".
16. We've got them working on the concept of "Trade", when yelling "Share!" wasn't getting them what they wanted. Trade seems to work about 75% of the time. The rest of the time is screaming and crying and possible sibling whacking which doesn't work at all, but is oddly satisfying to the 2 year old mind.
    
17. The twins really like to drink out of regular cups, but I'm not willing to put up with all of the spilling. Yet. Occasionally we'll give them a tiny cup with 1/2" of water in it to try and limit the damage they can do. Bet you didn't know that a 1/2" of water can be spread in a 6' puddle through which short people can frolic and splash. It's twin magic.
    
    "Mmmm! Wadder!"
    
    Nakies!
    
    
18. Still have no clue when Logan is going to sleep all the way through the night on a regular basis. Maybe next year. ACK!
    
    "I don't need no sleep! I borned caffeinated!"
    
    
19. Cellphones. Madly in love with. Madly.
    
    "Mom! No pictures! I'm on da phone!"
    
    
    
    "Yeah, I'm gonna have ta call you back."
    
    
20. They've discovered the thrill of running in different directions when we're at school, picking Caitlin up. I've discovered the thrill of overalls-as-handles. Freakin' awesome!
    
    "Run! She can't possibly catch us both!"
    
    
    Squee!
    

I'm still waiting for it to get easier. Good thing they're still cute.

Broken Hearted Crying

I unwittingly reached a new low in parenting my eldest on Friday.

She's joined the school choir this year and had a performance at a local retirement home on Friday. I knew this. I was going to pick her up at 4:30 after it was done, instead of attending since a) the twins would be with me and b) the school concert is this next Tuesday where I'd get to see the whole show in relative comfort (e.g. with more arms available to hold squirmy twins).

Then I got the call from Eric where he told me that she told him that I'd be walking her to the performance after school. Uh...what?!

Suddenly, I was on the hook.

Well, okay then. I packed up the twins and the stroller and went up to her school and waited in the hallway with all of the other parents that were walking. I did not, however, walk into the classroom when all of the other parents walked in because I had the twins running up and down the hallway to try to burn some energy off of them.

This was my fatal mistake.

Lined up outside the classroom were the choir snacks, so I knew that if I just waited, Caitlin would come out to grab a snack and we'd say Hi! She did come out, eventually, in the last group to get snacks and her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot.

"Caitlin! Hi! Wha--what's the matter? Why are you crying?"

Caitlin threw herself at my legs, wrapped her arms around my waist and choked out that she didn't think I was coming. That she looked and looked at all of the moms and didn't see me and thought I wouldn't be there.

I was utterly crushed. She was utterly crushed.

I had no idea how important it was to walk in that door. I had no idea she was looking forward to seeing me so much. I had no idea that she cared THAT MUCH. I crushed her and I never knew it until I was patting her back and hugging her tight and apologizing for not walking in the classroom door.

We fight so often these days that I actually forget that she's 8 years old and still loves me dearly, even when she's being a terrific brat. I forget that our fighting and yelling and rounds of punishment for rudeness and door slamming and talking back is not the same as hating me. Even when she says she hates me. I forgot that sometimes it means more to just show up to an event than it does to actually participate in it (I spent half the time watching/listening and the other half showing the twins the home therapy dog and fish tank and responding to questions from the staff about the twins.).

This parenting gig is hard freakin' work but it's the stuff like this that blindsides you that makes me feel like a failure.

She's fine now. The performance went really well and she sings like an angel. I'm looking forward to the school concert where I'll get to hear it again with the rest of the family and maybe even take a picture or two.

My hard lesson for the day: Don't forget to walk in the door.

If I ever...

decide to write a book about, you know, all this [Wild gesture to encompass crazy household of 2 year old twins, 8 year old girl , 2 cats, 1 husband, several thousand plants and a dying, weed infested lawn and the skeletal remains of a vegetable garden.] I have a title.

You know, in case I can ever sit down and write anything. Also assuming anyone would read such drivel.

The title?

Remain Calm.

Don't steal it. It's totally mine.

I'm warnin' ya!

Die in a fire!

During one of our recent grocery story runs, Caitlin noted to me that she and the twins would be perfect for the parts of the children from A Series of Unfortunately Events.

"Emma could be Sunny, Logan can be Klaus and I can be Beatrice!" she announced happily.

"So wait," I responded with evil intent, "You want daddy and I to die in a fire* just so you can have an adventure?!"

"No! Not like that! You could...um...you could be some of the nice people we run into!" Caitlin's eyes grew wide with shock.

"You mean the people that keep being killed off in terrible ways? Those people?!" I absolutely leered at her, enjoyed her discomfort.

"No! Well...um..."

"Sorry honey, we're staying alive. No adventures for you!" And then I grinned my big Evil Mommy grin.

Because clearly if you want to have adventures, your parents have to be dead (See Harry Potter.). At a minimum, your mom has to be (See Nancy Drew.). Moms don't allow adventures.

They interfere with bedtime.





* I then spent the rest of the evening randomly whispering "Die in a fiyah!" to Eric. I'm so mean! Hee!

The "D" Word

The following post is not for the faint of heart. Just so you know. Leave now if you just don't want to hear any Debbie Downer stuff. Some of you don't want to hear it. You've even told me so, so here's your fair warning.

...

So...you may have noticed I haven't been writing much. Not too many photographs, either. Perhaps you're thinking, "Oh, she just must be sooo busy with all the Happy Homemaker crap! Maybe she's canning tomatoes or something?" No such luck. I'd give my vegetable gardening a C- this year. I sucked at it and the weather didn't help any. I had a poor tomato harvest, not even enough to make a single soup.

I've been feeling depr down. Very.

Very.

Down.

Quite frankly I'm tired. I'm so tired, I've gone right through exhaustion into another dimension. Apparently it's call The Crazies. I've always suspected that long term sleep deprivation leads to The Crazies. Hey look! I'm right! Um...yay me? Now when I say long term, you'll have to believe me when I tell you that I haven't slept for 8 hours or longer more than about 3 times in the last three years.

I am not fucking joking.

Recently, Logan has decided that he needs to wake up Every. Single. Solitary. Night. for the last several weeks. Right as we get in bed, whether that's 10 o'clock, 12 o'clock or 1 am, he wakes up just as we've snuggled up in bed. Right after I've found the comfortable spot on the pillow and exhaled deeply after a long day of twin rangling, the first cry goes up.

Why? I don't freakin' know. We've tried feeding him (Maybe it's a growth spurt?!), we've tried rocking him (For two HOURS.), we've tried ignoring him (He can cry longer than we can last and his semi-hysterical crying then wakes up Emma.) and now we're back to re-Ferberizing him (Don't chew me out in the comments about this method. It works on our kids. Also? I am not co-sleeping with twins. There is no bed big enough in this house.). So. Broken sleep. A lot of it for a very long time.

Then, to make matters worse, after spending all day wrangling screaming short people, I'd like some time to myself and possibly with my spouse. This often leads to getting to bed even later. Every night I plan on going to bed at 10 pm, but then wind up One-More-Thing-ing myself until midnight. One more email. One more blog. One more lolcat. I try to eke out a little more "me" time and then, yes, suffer for it in the morning.

Yelling and crying follow.

I know that exercise would help me feel better, but it's lonely as hell exercising by myself. I know that vitamins would help me feel at least slightly more energetic, but I'm too depr down to take them. I get out at least once a day, with the twins, to go pick up Caitlin from school. On good days, I walk the mile uphill (All uphill and that's not an exaggeration.) to go get her. I'm trying to click with the local moms and am having a rough time of it. My Crazy probably seeps out when I'm talking to them and they all move away from me on the bench there. The wild look in my eyes probably gives me away.

Now before you say, "Well, why don't you go Get Some Help, dumbass!", let me tell you this: we are the face of the current healthcare crisis. We are the fucking poster children for it. We don't have HC through an employer and therefore are paying for catastrophic coverage out of pocket, which ain't cheap. Anything I do to get "looked at" and potentially "treated" will either shoot that payment up to unaffordable levels or will put me on some List and then somewhere in my future someone will be all "Pre-existing condition" up in my face. Yay for the health insurance companies and the Free Market system! It's working for ME! Woooooo!

And now you know I am all for socializing our healthcare because this is just stupid. It's a stupid position to be in and I know that I'm not the only person out here that feels down and isn't talking to a professional about it because of the potential repercussion on their coverage.

So.

I mope.

I am a bad mother. A bad wife. A crappy friend. Oh and I talk badly to myself about myself. My inner dialogue is vicious. Surprise! Few people can be as mean to me as I am to me.

Except for once, a few months ago, someone said something so awful to me that our relationship took a heavy blow. I was already down and it was like being kicked repeatedly in the face. So. That was fun.

Um. Yeah.

So the writing isn't happening. The photography isn't happening. The sleeping isn't happening. The weight loss reversed and now I'm right back where I was 2 months ago because the baking is still happening.

I'm so far down, I've got tunnel vision trying to look up. I'm not so far down that I can't get up and get moving and smile, laugh, change another fucking diaper and go grocery shopping (I hate grocery shopping. Why does my eldest need to touch everything in the store?! GERMS! Fuckin' SWINE FLU, child! Cut it out!). I spend most of every day thinking about food: what to cook, when to cook, what will they eat, why aren't they eating, cleaning up after baking and cooking, making breakfast, lunch and dinner and then cleaning up what comes out of short people that aren't potty trained yet (Insert hysterical laughter here.) and cleaning up the mess they leave behind when they do eat.

I'm fucked up.

So, please, whatever you do, if you don't want to know, DON'T ask me how I'm doing, or how I'm feeling or how things are going. Because, you see, the evil part of me will want to unload on you. The desperate part of me needs to unload on you. The cynical part of me knows you don't fucking want to know and are just asking to Be Polite. Don't bother. Maybe you are down and feel like you can't handle one more thing, or someone else's personal crisis. That's totally cool. I get that. You should note, however, that I am very careful how I greet people and only really ask "How are you doing?" if I

• want to know the answer and
• am willing to take the time to hear the answer.

I've also discovered, with help, that when you're down, sharing your pain with someone else really does lighten the burden on both parties.

Now what?

Now I wait. I'm waiting out the dark times. I'm waiting for us to have enough cash for day care. I'm waiting for yet another spring. I'm waiting for the day when I have something good to write about.

In case you're wondering why my garden looks like shit and why my house is never clean, it's because I'm waiting. I'm waiting for a time when I don't suck.

How are you doing? Because I'd really like to know.

No Impact Man Movie! In Boulder! Tonight! (And an anti-plastic rant, because apparently I woke up on the Ranty side of the bed this morning.)

Guess who's going to a movie tonight?!

That's right! ME!



It will be at CU in Boulder at 7pm tonight. If you're interested, you should go! And look for me! I'll be the one with the crazy look in her eye because I'll be out of the house without children!

So yeah, you should go. Maybe we can all learn a little something more to help us reduce our impacts on the environment. That's my plan, at any rate.

On a related - yet separate - note, I just weighed our week's worth of trash today and we came up at 15 lbs for our family of five. Unlike Julie, though, I didn't weigh our recycling. It's compost week over here, so the recycling is half in and half out of the house. Next week, maybe I'll have a look at that weight as well. We're cutting down and cutting back partly due to the economy and partly due to my environmentalism. It's really nice to look back and realize that by baking my own bread since February, I've kept ~96 plastic bread bags out of the trash (~40 English muffin bags and another ~40 bagel bags as well). Although we would have put cat littler into them before tossing them anyway, not using them in the first place is even better. We still have plenty of cereal, cat litter, oatmeal and assorted other plastic bags to use instead.

When you think about the fact that every single one of the plastic items ever created is still on this Earth, it makes my changes seem infinitesimally small in comparison. However, not trying to make a difference is not an option for me. We're poisoning ourselves, our oceans, our wildlife and our children.

Dead albatross. Photo: Cynthia Vanderlip/Algalita Marine Research Foundation, from Plastic Oceans.

Living deformed turtle. Photo: Dino Ferri/Audobon Institute from Plastic Oceans.

We must step up and take responsibility for our actions, demand change from industry and our government and fix it before it's too late. Hopefully it isn't already.

For a detailed breakdown of the garbage patch, click this link to view the illustration by Heather Jones, from Plastic Oceans.

I'm not suggesting we all become pioneering monks. What I am suggesting is that there's a better way to live. That if we demanded stronger environmental protections of the government (Make those calls! Vote! Write those letters!) and demanded change from industry (Buy wisely! Vote with your dollars! Write those letters!), we'd see changes in packaging, new choices in the marketplace (e.g. the boom in organic food) and a reduction in pollution. Why am I responsible for disposing of all the plastic waste that every damned thing comes packaged in these days? Why isn't Industry responsible for their product from cradle to grave? Do we really need those crazy blister packs surrounding every small techie device made now?

There has to be another way.

We just have to look for it, demand it, strive for it.

So yeah. I'm going to the movies, but it's about a whole lot more than entertainment.

Updated to add: Believe it or not, after all the run up, we didn't get to see the movie. The projector at CU broke. We went all that way, waited around, at 7:35 pm they called it and said they'd refund our money. Now I have to wait until it comes out on DVD. If any of you get to see it, tell me how it was. I'm so bummed.

Forever Fourteen

Why is it that I feel like I'm stuck with the same set of insecurities I faced as a young teenager?

• Who are my friends?
• Does this new person like me?
• Will they be my friend?
• Why doesn't anyone want to hang out with me?
• What's up with my hair?!

There's this group of moms at Caitlin's school that I've seen and waved to since kindergarten, but since I'm always worn out with the twins, I've never had time/taken the time to get to know them. This year, since the twins are a lot more interested in hanging out after school and playing in the sandbox, I've taken the time.

You know, hang out and chat. And I think...I think...they might even like me! Today I even went on a walk with one, after drop off. It went well! The twins got to go on an hour long walk/ride and I got to talk to an actual adult during school hours.

Imagine that!

So what I want to know is this: is it really this hard to make new friends and click with people? Gah! Has nothing really changed inside since I was 14? I'm still worried about making and keeping friends. I still freak out (quietly) when they don't call me for weeks on end. I still wonder what I've done or said or should've done or said that would have kept someone my friend longer. I keep wondering if I'm ever going to get over this feeling that I just don't fit in.

Besides, how do I explain all of this to Caitlin? Do I really tell her it never really gets better? That she's going to spend the next 32 years wondering if they're talking about her once she leaves the room? Ack!

Is it just me? Do you ever stop feeling like the kid on the other side of the fence?

humpf. I bet your grass is greener, too.

They Turned Two!

Blowing out a pair of tea candles.*

They made it through another 365 days, believe it or not. And what do I have to show for it? Not very many pictures at all. Fortunately for me, Misty stepped in to do some shooting, because I was so busy messing with the cake that I didn't take any until the party was ending. Of course, to make matters worse, I didn't take the time to empty my card, so there are even fewer photos than there might have been. Sorry Misty!

It's been a tough year, alrighty.

Anyway, yeah. The twins! Are two! Holy moly!

Emma wants to know what the big deal is.

I just wanted a clean house and a cake. I got a mostly clean house and a chocolate cake. The twins got to eat cake with Grammy and Grampy in the backyard, who didn't realize that the twins would eat the entire piece I put in the bowl and had to come back for more. I was gonna say something, but they moved so fast out of the kitchen and the massive pile up around the cake that I never had a chance.

Small surprise that those two can say "Cake" really clearly, isn't it?

I realized, later, that I was so busy cleaning right up until the first knock on the door that I never changed my own clothing into something nicer or their clothing into something more festive. Dang it! So. Hmm. Scruffy.

Year Two is all about The Scruff.

Logan showing off his chocolate face.

The company was good, though. Even though I keep trying to keep the parties small, once you get past immediate blood family, you have close friends that you always have to invite and then suddenly it's a party of 8 adults and 9 children. Eek! That's my version of small, alright.

Otter was there and cute as a button, although still terrifying to Logan. Again. (Photo by Misty!)

Everyone brought snacks to share and there was general hanging around, snacking, singing, cake and ice cream. By request there was only one present to open (Because this house is Full. No Vacancy to new toys.), which the twins descended upon once everyone said goodbye and we were entering the Calm after the Birthday Party Storm. Turns out that Grammy and Grampy need not have bothered with anything other than tissue paper.

The real thrill of birthdays: wrapping paper.

Oh and they liked the little cars, too, once the tissue paper went away.

Over all, it was a good day with little explosions of melodrama as these days usually are, but that just seems to be how we roll.

Happy birthday to my monkeys! Onto the Terrible Twos Times Two! Yeee-haaaaa!


* I've got a pile of number candles. Where are the 2s? Why can't I find any regular candles? Did someone eat them or something? Had to make do with tea candles. The twins didn't care since they didn't blow out their own candles this year anyway. Maybe next year.

Jam On!

Wonder Canning Powers...activate!

Form of:
Jam. And ice cream toppings. Because once you start canning, it's kinda hard to stop.

My first set:
Spiced wine peach jam and mango-raspberry jam. There's a whacking lot of sugar in jam! Yow!

Second set:
No sugar added peach jam and no sugar added cherry jam. This was in direct response to the huge amount sugar in the first two batches. Next time, I'll probably just use a cup or two of sugar instead of none at all. Strangely enough, these are a little tart and considering I was using really ripe fruit that seemed odd. Those two tablespoons of lemon juice packed more of a punch than I realized!

My third set:
Pecans in praline syrup and walnuts in a maple syrup sauce. Just because.

I noticed when I jumped into the first batch that it was really easy to run a second batch immediately after you finished processing the first one, since you were already set up with everything you'd need and the water was already hot. Thus the seemingly enormous different types of jams. I have plans for shipping several of them off to my mom and sisters (Shhhh!) as early Xmas presents. Hopefully I did a good job processing them!

I'm pretty sure I did, they all did that "Ping!" thing to let you know the jar was vacuum sealed.

I found out that while I really liked making all of these different jams, it's really hot work and is better saved for cooler days. Also, that it's only possible to get through one batch before the twins wake up.

Oh and that the twins really like my jam.

"Oooh! Pretty!"

It's funny how cracking out a new skill for me, which is actually a very old skill, makes me feel all industrious. Next thing you know I'll start collecting farm animals, churning my own butter, and wearing gingham aprons...

Or maybe not.

Have you ever canned before? If so, how'd it go?

Are you STILL using disposable plastic water bottles?

Watch this trailer.*




* Totally stolen from Fake Plastic Fish.

I think because our trash is taken away by large trucks and hauled off somewhere else, we don't realize what kind of an impact we have collectively. It's only when you either see the giant trash heaps or see the giant garbage pile swirling around in the North Pacific gyre. So in case you're wondering why it is I keep on making my own yogurt, kefir, sour cream and buttermilk when I have so many other things I could be doing, that's why. Reading that article is what made me want to stop buying bread all the time and instead, make my own. It's what led me to make more of my own dairy products, buy more products in bulk (loose leaf tea, flour, oats, etc.) instead of individually wrapped bits, use cloth diapers and make Caitlin's lunch. It's why we cook at home most of the time (that, plus it's less expensive plus twins).

All of these things add up to less trash to dispose. Less plastic for turtles to eat. A smaller carbon footprint. Also? A smaller trash bill.

We have the smallest trashcan (33 gallons) we could rent from our trash service. We have two larger recycling and compost containers that handle twice the volume that our trashcan does. I still compost all of the vegetative matter, but now the service will take all of the icky stuff I couldn't compost: meat scraps, bones, fat, dairy, and the giant seed-filled weeds from my yard. Of which, this year, there are a lot. Maybe next year the twins will be safer in the yard and allow me to get out there and weed without worrying about them ripping green tomatoes off the vine or crashing into the miniature pond. Either one makes mommy cry.

Does it take more time to make these things at home? Certainly. However, knowing what goes into all of these different foods that we're putting into our bodies and reducing the amount of plastic waste that we produce makes it worth it to me. So much of the plastic we consume in our society is completely useless. Everything is disposable. Getting out of that mindset is more important than you might think. Have a look at your own trash and note how much of it is plastic. How much is recyclable? How much of it can you compost on your own or, if you're lucky like I am, send off with your curbside composting service?

Thanks to Julie, over at Chez Artz, here is a link to some trash facts. There are some scary numbers in there, but without opening our eyes and acknowledging what we're doing, we can't change.

What are you doing to make a positive difference in the world?

Quiz Time!

1. Burn it all down and start over?
   
   OR
2. Burn it all down and cackle madly?

Answers and reasoning in the comments! For bonus points, explain how you'll get away with it all.

No.

Most of my days are spent uttering the following:

• No.
• Put that down.
• Leave that alone.
• Not for you.
• Stop.
• Leave it.
• Leeeeeeeave it.
• Close the door.
• Put it back.
• Don't touch.
• No, baby.
• What?! No!
• Stop!
• ARGH!
• Why can't you leave that alone?
• Did I mention that that's not for you? Because it's NOT FOR YOU.
• No, you may not.
• Quit it.
• Why are you doing that?
• Should you be doing that?
• Wait! No! [Crash!] Siiiigh.
• Get down.
• Where's your father?

Most of those things are said while I have something in my hands. Or on my hands. Or the oven door open. Pretty much, I'm always tied up when short people decide they need to get into trouble.

They're plotting against me, I tell you!

Ayup.