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I love me some Friday night tired.  It's the content warm tingling of an exhausted body, having completed a full week of work, child rearing, good wifing and healthy "ish" living.  As with all good Friday nights, I'm still stuck in my work clothes because I've spent the night not worrying about schedules and routines, instead indulging each family member with time.  Time to recap the week, catch up on the drama, plan the weekend.  I don't cook on Friday's, we grab and sit in shifts, so that each person gets their own time with each parent.  Some of us eat, while the other's play cards.  Some play cards while one of us gives Liam a bath.  Fridays are a free for all love fest with no rules about what you eat, when you eat it or where.

On a weeknight, I enforce a fairly rigid schedule of chores, homework, dinner time and bedtime.  There is always a smattering of dance parties and orange soda happy hours because all work and no play makes momma freak out a little. But every night at the exact same time the kids heads hit the pillow...I turn into a pumpkin.

A couch pumpkin.

But on Fridays, I'm in it until the end baby.  Did you know that "the end" of a Friday night is 11pm?  True story.  For me it is anyway and if I make it that long, I fee kind of like a rock star.  Sometimes I worry I'm making my kids super lame.  My 15 year old daughter just woke up from a half hour nap on the floor to tell me she is going to bed.  15 and turning in at 10pm on a Friday night.  Does that mean I'm doing a good job?  Or a terrible job?

2.6.12

I cannot prove this, but I know Liam lays in his toddler bed, waiting to hear the sound of my ass hitting the pleather of my office chair.  Waiting for the sound of fingers being gingerly placed on the keyboard and for the deep cleansing breathe his momma takes at the end of the day, when she thinks she has some time to her self to write, or edit photos, or blog stalk.  Or maybe have a good laugh at Damn You Auto Correct.  Or a good cry in front her her computer so that she can blame it on something there, but really just cuz she needs a good cry.

He waits and when he hears any combination of these things, he gets sick.  BAM.  And stays sick for days, irritable & adorably pathetic, needy and cuddly, demanding and helpless against his booger nose.  And this guarantees my undivided attention day and night, I'm locked in.

This phenomenon is the reason I cannot piece together a blog more than once a week if that.  I have dozens of one paragraph blogs, all begun in a sincere moment of inspiration to write, to share something, interrupted by the crocodile tears of a my little prince.

His little voice breaks me down to the very core.  When he looks at me and uses his new big boy words he gazes into my eyes.  He is like his dad that way, always flirting, always looking into you, never just at you.

"Momma sleepa Liam?"
"Come on momma...follow me follow me!"
"One more book?"

And when I give in and climb into his narrow twin bed with him, suffering the panda pillow pet as my only option, he touches my face and confirms "Momma sleepa Liam?"

"Yes baby, momma will sleep with Liam."

He touches my face, tracing my eyes and nose, whispering what he knows "eyes...nose...cheeks...boca".  Almost without exception, he puts me to sleep with his face tickles.

And this is why my blogs are so few and far between these days.  I thought you should know.

::

I have never felt like I had to go out looking for inspiration for my writing or photography.  I don't do either as a source of income, just for creative therapy which allows me a lot of room to move in.  I'm accountable to no one and if suddenly no one read this blog, I'd still write it.

With that big a playground to play in, virtually no rules about how and why I do this, it's easy to do.  Inspiration is automatic, just write what I want.

But you should never ignore inspiration when it kisses you right on the mouth.  That would be rude.

I was gifted inspiration once before and it about sent me into orbit.  I've been gifted inspiration again.

I love this book, this journal.  I want to carry it around with me at all times and live the life that I imagine as I fill in the blanks.  So I have been.

I'm going to tackle each unfinished answer here as well.  One by one, on no particular timeline with no particular agenda.

I'm feeling like stretching myself, exploring and learning something new about myself.  I'm feeling like growing and moving towards something.

::

I made the cake.  I'm making a lot of cakes lately because of a cake plate we found at a thrift store.  It's perfect and begs for a cake.  See...inspiration.

I did not make the lovely pot holder, but I want it.

I did drink the wine and the beer.

There is that Superman t-shirt again.  Heaven help us when he outgrows it.

We got snow!  It was short lived, but it allowed Liam the chance to wear his new snow pants and boots.  Wouldn't you know it, the first year I've EVER had my poop in a group enough to have everyone geared up for winter before it starts, and it doesn't start.  Unbelievable.

But for one day, I had some snow babies.

I needed there to be some kind of cold snap, some kind of warm cozy snowed in day.  I was pouty about the non winter winter.  I guess this will have to do.  At least I got pictures.  And now spring can come.

::

We've given the girls a choice:

Quinceanera

Sweet 16

Autumn chose Quinceanera - (lit. meaning One (f.) who is fifteen), sometimes called "Fiesta de quince años", "Fiesta de Quinceañera", "Quince años" or simply "quince", is the celebration of a girl's fifteenth birthday in parts of Latin America and elsewhere in communities of people from Latin America. This birthday is celebrated differently from any other birthday, as it marks the transition from childhoodto young womanhood.^[1] The celebration, however, varies significantly across countries, with celebrations in some countries taking on, for example, more religious overtones than in others.

Good thing they can vary because her's is a Japanese flavored quinceanera lacking entirely in religious overtones.

I am so very excited for this party.  It's all her, I'm just here to make sure it all comes together for her.  It's Japanese food and language,  anime and cosplay and of course...the Anime Detour. It's a weekend party in Minneapolis, it could be no other place with no other people.

The invitations are done, complete with origami crane gift from the birthday girl herself.

I am so very excited for this party.

Back to the book...or rather the journal.  Feel free to play along, it's simple. Just finish the unfinished.

Chapter 1 - A Handmade Life (identity)

My body is holding onto...

baby fat

mystery pain

youth

the dance

the urge to go...somewhere

it's early morning internal alarm

the force

power

junk food

the rhythm

fatigue

 a more comfortable version of itself

Ahhhh a completed post.  Feels good:)  XOXOXOXOXOXO

ode to the joy of a couch

Note:  For the 33 of you that have already read the sleepy, first edition of  "Ode to the couch" blog, stick around for the photos.  For the rest of you...this is all new information.  Kisses.


::


I'm coming to you live, from my new couch.  The one that feels like a velvet covered cloud and is the soothing color of a perfectly sweet creamed coffee.  We've had the couch for a week and 2 days and I haven't done one single bit of evening physical activity since this beautiful creature came in to our lives.  I cannot resist the chase lounge, the over stuffed pillows.  We've even spent the night on it.  Both of us. And we slept better than we do in our bed.  This could be very very bad.


I've caught up on about 5 tv shows that I never even heard of before.  Which is easy because I don't really watch tv.  I have accidentally found some tv I enjoy via the netflix, but hulu is a different game entirely.  Hulu and this couch have given me blogger's block.  Every time I belly up to my desk to write, I get tense and figity, distracted by the siren song of the couch and the hulu.


It took me a week and 2 days to give up the fight and cave completely, bringing the laptop to the couch.  My giant comfy blanket and my holiday jammie pants are made of the same material. I'm encased in velvety goodness, velcroed to this spot, peering over the top of my laptop fearful that the witch hunters will burn to to get rid of her dark magic.  Name the terrible CW show.


But the writer's block is gone:)  When you can't move your ass from the couch to the desk, bring the desk to the couch I guess.  And then write about said couch.  


This is no way to get ready for the Warrior Dash or a Tough Mudder or even the Pumpkin Festival 5k.  I feel an intervention coming.


Or, it could be that my body needs this little piece of heaven just now.  I have been crazy content, it's been building day by day since December.  I'm taking deeper breathes, reading books, cooking new meals from new cookbooks.  I'm journaling meals, complete with pictures, giddy with the idea that someday the girls will pick up this "cookbook" to find not only delish recipes, but their momma's sense of humor, and memories of how we always partied in the kitchen.  


I'm not crashing on the couch every night.  I'm sitting here reading.  Real books, from start to finish.  I've been reading the same 3 books for about 3 years.  This couch comes along and BAM!  New book done in less than a week.  This couch is making me smarter.  Fatter...but smarter.


When I'm not pining over furniture, some good work is getting done around here.  A massive purge of excess toys brought more organization to several rooms in our new house.  Finally, I feel like these rooms have their own purpose, a specific function rather than just places we dumped our stuff 6 months ago.  We've lived in a lot of houses over the last 10 years and each time, there is a moment when I realize the house has become our home.  When our people arrived last weekend for Autumn's 15 birthday, and everyone was settling into their rooms and tossing suitcases around like they would stay for ever...I felt that moment.  


I love walking by a room and seeing suitcases open, things tossed about.  It means someone is visiting:)


Fast forward 24 hours.  After a peaceful snowed in Sunday at home, I just jumped on here to enjoy some of my frick'n amazing chili and finish this blog.  Add some photos and call it good.  But what I saw was 33 page views.  For a blog post I did not send out into the universe. Except... I did.  In my couch drunk stupor, I must have "posted" the blog instead of "saved" it.

I am too cool.

::


My girl turned 15 on January 17th. 15.  Fifteen.  Quince.  It blows my mind.  Of my three children, the story of how Autumn came to us is my favorite .  She was the unplanned game changer of my life.  In 3 minutes my life went from one of total self absorption to one of possibility.  The possibility of knowing love so intense and overwhelming, you lose yourself in it.  You would throw yourself in front of a freight train for it.  That 15 seconds of peeing on a stick, followed by 165 seconds of watching a second blue line appear, forged a bond between myself and that cluster of cells that would forever change the course of my life. In 3 minutes, I become a mother, without hesitation, reservation or regret.


By the time I got pregnant with Annika I knew I was capable of sharing this love with however many children the universe blessed me with.  


I knew I loved being pregnant and could rock it.


I had breastfeeding down.  I could feed nations.


I could work off the baby fat in 12 months with out sacrificing Mexican food. 


And when we decided to see if God and my old eggs could rally one last time, I was content with what I had, so Liam was the cherry on top.  He is ALL dessert baby.


And as much as I believe each of my children is nothing short of a miracle, the truth is that neither Annika or Liam would have ever even had a chance...without Autumn.


My girl.

Well hello baby girl. 

Look at my girl now.  Totally confident in her style...eat'n an apple.  I think she is the coolest.

My favorite part of birthday weekends?  The long, lazy mornings.

with superman...

and Grandmas...

Grandmas who wear Ed Hardy glasses rule.

Grandma's who wear Superman t-shirts rule.

and favorite cousins...

I'm not a big shopper.  As a matter of fact, you could know me for a very long time and never hear me utter the words "Let's go shopping!!"  No, it's typically more like "Ugh, I have to go shopping, will you go for me?"

But for some reason, my 3 Aries loves can sweet talk me into just about anything, even a Saturday of shopping.  How do they do it?

From left to right: Libra, Aries, Aries, Scorpio (me), Capricorn and... Aries.

The Aries.  They are lovely, complicated creatures.  I seem to be wildly attracted to them as well, even though as a Scorpio their over the top enthusiasm for life and right on the surface emotions require a lot of focus.

I have 4 Aries in my "inner circle" already, and I recently befriended another one without even realizing it. There is something going on here.  I'll get back to you when I complete my research:)

I love it when family hangs out in my kitchen.

And it always happens.  I've lived in houses where the kitchen is the smallest room in a tiny house and without fail, we end up piled high, sitting on counter tops and floors with wine in hand chatting away.  Standing room only, the rest of the house available, but no...the kitchen is the heart of the home in my family. 

My family + my husband's family + our family + eating a giant breakfast in my house = over the moon, swooning, gushing, cheesy joy! 

Yup.  We are home.

Speaking of my home.  I need your help.  

I have A LOT of windows that need A LOT of help in the window treatment department.  At the moment there are blinds on them.  I hate blinds. I'm grateful the former owners left them on, because this would be a giant fishbowl peep show if not for the terrible beige blinds.  But we aren't really "beige" blinds kind of people.

Having said that, I am struggling to find a beautiful, creative and affordable way to cover all these fracking windows.  I would like to spend less than 300.00, but so far that seems unlikely. 

The big issue is that anytime you are going to toss up this much fabric, it needs to not overwhelm the room.  I want to make them myself, but what fabric?!?!? 

There are more, I just can't get them all in the photo.

Please, please help a sister out.  

Happy Chinese New Year!  And don't forget to give my other little project some love when you can! XOXOXOXOXO

my shorts

Hola! from booful kimass land.  That's what our little village in SD is called on our way home from daycare everyday.  "Oh Momma!  Oh booful kimass!"  I will drive in circles, down every street I see even a hint of kimass lights, to hear his little voice exclaim the beauty of Christmas.  And when a block goes dark for a house or two?  "Oh no Momma!  Where kimass go?!?!"  Kimass, where are you?"  That voice...I win either way.


We hung probably the most amazing wreath ever at work today.  It was a gift to our company and honestly just stunning.   When it was finally up, I stood in the middle of a noon rush, coffee lovers on one side, road warriors on the other, and exclaimed "OH KIMASS!  IT BOOFUL!"  I can only believe I'm a joy to have around.  No picture here, but check out my other blog later:)


I'm thinking in shorts these days.  I'm feeling in shorts these days. By "shorts" I mean that I feel like I am moving along at mach speed, barely touching the surface of the earth.  It's all good, I feel joy and love and pride and accomplishment, but it's all just whizzing by.  And if I look back at the last year, it becomes a blur.  Life changing decisions were made, we took off on a great new adventure, left the city to make a home in a small town and couldn't take our people with us.  I look at us now and still know it was the right time and we are happy here.  But we are moving at mach speed. Which only leaves time for these shorts.


What the hell are "shorts"?  They are the moments when I feel deeply connected to what is going on around me.  Or when I recall a memory that lives so vividly in my mind and heart, that I can live in every minute detail when I bring to the front of my mind.  


I used to live in those connected moments all day, every day.  I maybe had a small disconnect here and there while at work, but even then my job as a Human Resources professional largely left me knee deep in moments with people, connecting with them.  But that is not what I'm talking about.  What I'm talking about is the fact that for a very long time, I was blessed with years and years... of seemingly endless moments of the planets aligning and everything always turning out perfect.  Feel free to vomit now.


I can tell you that was not the reality, but even in times when anyone would argue my life was swirling around the toilet bowl, I was connected to the meaning of what was happening, why it was happening and how it would turn out for the best.  There was always  some control, and therefore, always the ability to pause...connect...ponder the meaning...and move forward.


So when things outside my control started to happen, it messed up my mojo a bit.  


Over this last year, here on my little bloggity blog I've referred to these shorter moments as finding the "sparkle" again.  And maybe if you read my posts again, there are other metaphors for these shorts out there.  I'm sure.  But recently I've been thinking and feeling in short bursts so much I had to name the feeling. 


::
A birthday short:
I cannot stop thinking about my birthday.   I relive looking up from my Caribou "teaching and training" moment and seeing their faces and yelling "WHAT?!?!?!?"  And then crying and running. And the dancing and waking up knowing they were in my house.  The birthday dinner, the missed football game and happy hour beers, the perfect music mix which began with "Invincible" by Pat Benatar.  I yelled "oh Autumn...you HAVE to see the legend of Billy Jean!"  and having Barrett magically appear with it in his hand.  The tattoo.


Perfectly connected moments, like a higher power was orchestrating our every move.


I also kept the perfect birthday card.  
My sister in law brought it to work and I read it and laughed.  But later, when I read it again I thought...it's perfect.  It may be the most perfect card I've ever gotten.  So it sits... on my desk at home and I laugh every time I see it, and I show it people who come over.  And they agree that it is perfect.


Christmas shorts:
The daily drive home from daycare...or what I call "The Center".  I happily take the detour every day because his joy touches deep roots in my Christmas soul.  It feeds my holiday freak every day.


 


Oddly enough, wrapping presents late last night while my husband lay sick on the couch next to me also fell into the category of good stuff.  The Christmas freak and the nurturing wife freak were both getting their fix of connecting to a moment.  I love it when my husband needs me.  Like...really needs me.


Homemade gifts ground me. Even though I always...always end up in a hot mess of panicked all nighters, I see the finish line and know that handing over a hand made gift feels just slightly better.  The time I spend at a table crafting a gift is time I'm forced to slow down and re prioritize things.  It feels good to choose to get in over my head on a gift.

MAN DOWN AT THE CRAFTING TABLE!!!

 

Work/career shorts:
These are tough these days because it is this 50+ hours a week that is driving the faster than the speed of light bus.  It won't always be this way, but it will be for the next several years.  Here, there are mere seconds where I can pause and feel the roots dig in and connect to a task, or a work center, or an accomplishment.  But the second is over in a flash, replace by "great but...how do you make it better."  It's good.  It's tough...but it's good.


Family shorts:
Here is where I'm getting the most bang for my buck. My time with my daughters cannot fall into the "short" category.  These days, my Autumn Zoe and my Annika Willow are my roots.  The move  and the change that came with it have bonded us together in a way that resembles their infancy.  Right now, we are a team, every day, mother/daughters.  There is open and honest dialogue, openness to my advice, a need for each other to remind us of our roots, our beliefs, our sense of what is right and what is not.  Daily I feel Autumn reach out us for support when she is going to go against the norm at school and for now our support is all the strength she needs to stay true to herself.


   


For our  family, these are good, strong days. 




And then there is moving home, being near my parents, near my grandparents.  There really aren't words to describe how right that was, how necessary for all of us.  If you have been away from home for a spell, and are struggling with the thought of going back...do it.  Everything is temporary, you can always leave again.  But go home at least once.

And right now, in this very moment I'm uber connected.  It is reason #1 I blog...to sit quietly and contemplate this life I'm living.  I don't always publish what I write, but I always write.  And regardless of what comes out, I'm always more grateful for this life after I've spent some time here. 


Photo shorts ::


Oh the joys of little girls and little boys this time of year.

A perfect holiday short:  One night, as I'm drinking eggnog out of my new thrift shop holiday mug, Autumn says, "I wish I had a big fun mug to drink hot chocolate out of."

 

BOOM! Another thrift shop find.  It's a regular Christmas miracle.

Addiction short: Someday you will see me on Intervention as my family and friends desperately try to express how my addiction to little Laughing Cow cheeses has negatively effected them.  This photo is a cry for help.


It's the holiday season, time for me to dig in and stop with the shorts. Time to take the time to pause and connect.




 T minus 9 days until Christmas for us and however many days until you celebrate your seasonal connections. Dig in baby. XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

toddler warfare

An epic battle over the cool chair.

Happy Rainy Sunday!

Before I lay me down to sleep...

Why am I awake at 10pm?  A question for the ages.  My alarm, be it Liam or the clock will wake me up at 5am, with no regard with how I spent my time the night before.  Ruthless.  I sit here in the brutal light of my computer, the always present faux waves in the background on the baby monitor, inspired but tired.  I wonder how many truly inspired works of art we never see because they live in the minds of tired mothers.  Mothers who pause in the midst of the whirlwind of their day and think a single, clear, poetic though to be written, photographed or sung later, only to tuck it away in their dreams as they pass out on the couch at the end of the day.  While this blog may not qualify as an inspired work, it is often my only clear thought for the day and more often than not, it gets tucked in at night, never to see the light of day.  Tonight though, I am toughing it out to give Internet life to photos that make me smile.

This photo makes me exceedingly happy because it contains what I believe to be some absolute requirements for a content life...books, and a little red rocking chair.

This is Liam's space, my little book worm.  Anywhere he can spread out his books, becomes the most exciting place in the universe for him...and me. 

For him right now, the world exists in two places:  the arms of his family as we connect the monkey noise with the monkey face and in books.  God bless him.

For Annika, who is on the brink of so many difficult and wonderful changes, her room is her sanctuary.   A place where a 10 year old girl can take off her training bra and still play with her baby dolls.  A place where a laptop and old coloring books can live in harmony. 

A place where a girl can invite her 13 month old brother, her mom and her dad in to play animals.

And who doesn't love to play animals? 

I take a fair amount of crap about being over protective of my girls.  I have been accused of raising very smart, but nerdy kids.  Funny, but slightly inappropriate.  They know about the world and in fact have a better than average understanding of politics, religion, sex and the world they live in.  Logic & reason balanced with passion and curiosity.   Yet we don't allow them to watch cable news, or even much tv at all.  They don't have facebooks, and they spend a TON of time with their family.  Oh and they have daily & weekly chores.  Oh the horror!!!

And when Autumn's OCD mom isn't making her clean out her closet...what is my stunning 13 year old doing?  

Knitting & sewing of course.  Just like all 13 year old girls in the city........no?

It's difficult to capture the elusive 13 year old on film.  They are like vampires and a good picture of me...nearly impossible to catch a glimpse of.   I can tell you this, she was there when I made the salsa this weekend. 

When it comes to cooking, baking, canning...she is always there with her hair in a ponytail and an apron on, begging to learn how.  "How does great Grandma make those brownies?"  "How do you can salsa and pickles?"  "How do you just make up recipes mom?"  She is in my most peaceful space, my shadow, making me feel like a master chef, when really, I'm just winging it.

Almost everything that is important happens in my  kitchen.  The most heartfelt, life changing conversations I've ever had with my baby girls have happened in my kitchen, this one in particular as they have become young women in this house.  

I found out I was pregnant in this kitchen.  I left the stick on the bathroom counter and instructed my husband to look  as I was sick of seeing negative pregnancy tests.  It was in my kitchen that he laughed and smiled....and I jumped into his arms.
 

I love my stove and think my dishwasher is sexy.  But at the moment, I have a wicked crush on my kitchen windows. 

My mom knows how to shop for me better than I do:)  See the blue bird house out there on the fence?  Autumn made that.

There are so many spaces in our house that deserve a photograph and a story.  But for tonight, they are coming to bed with me, victims of the sleepy.   It's now 10:58pm and I am on the brink of turning into a pumpkin.