This, is us.

another chicklet gone and I think Alex is now carrying more cash than me.

2012-02-09T08:26:00.000-08:00

Alex lost her 6th tooth this week. It's official. She has more cash in her wallet than I do.

My glorious week explained in photos and videos. (Sarcasm is present in this message)

2012-02-09T08:23:00.000-08:00

So, Sean was lucky enough to piggy back a work trip to DC and attend his brother's engagement party last week. I was not jealous AT ALL and really not resentful of this, AT ALL. I was however, very happy he could make it as we are both so thrilled for the exciting year his brother and adorable fiance' have ahead of them.

The timing was not ideal as I was heading into my 'close' period at work. For those of you 'non accountants' or finance guru's. This is basically the week where you don't see the light of day and go cross eyed from number over-dose. For me it's the day I curse my decision to obtain my finance degree and solemnly swear to buy a lottery ticket. Plus, five days with no backup on the kid front can be a long 5 days anyway. To all the single mom's and dad's in the world. I salute.

Both kids thought this perfect timing to get sick. Ian with an ear infection, and Alex with bronchitis. With three combined days at home during this 'week where I shouldn't see the light of day and go cross eyed from number over-dose' I found myself working well into the night while the kids were asleep and managing the best I could in between catering to their very demanding sick needs. It was super fun. And boy did I ever just have a positive attitude about it all.

Here we have an example of any number of moments on my day home with Ian who had a fever and clearly was making it super easy for me to focus and accomplish any work.

We did manage to have a bit of fun amidst the chaos while Sean was gone.

Who knew how much fun playing with TP rolls could be?

Alex got a haircut

Ian blew mom's mind knowing where all the states belong.

Gage eyes me, eying his ice cream at John's Incredible Pizza.

Big Pink

2012-01-30T13:31:00.000-08:00

One of my fondest memories as a child (and there were many) was fighting with my two sisters over 'Big Pink',

Big Pink, was my mom's huge furry robe. To say it was fluffy or plush would be an understatement. I'd like you to think of 'Kitty' from Monsters, Inc. This guy is the closet thing I can think of to explain big pink. Minus the horns of course.

My sisters and I would fight over that thing all the time. We wanted to be the first to wrap that monstrosity around us feeling the cool silk liner on the inside. After many years, the liner started to detach itself from the robe and we'd find ourselves climbing into two layers of softness.

On Friday nights in particular, we'd wait in anticipation to see if Mom would come down for family movie night wearing it, or if it was fair game which would send the three of us girls racing up the stairs clawing our way past each other to reach it first.

Awww, Big Pink.

Over the years, Big Pink started to deteriorate until one day my mom had to toss her. I must have been in college at the time as the separation anxiety I felt was minimal despite my love for her. I assume she was out of site out of mind and my mom just quietly disposed of her.

I still think about her from time to time and today I had a giant warm childhood memory hit me with a wave of nostalgia as I covered my sick little girl into her bed for a nap. She whispered through fatigue, fever, and a

Tylenol coma that she wants, 'big pink'.

Big pink still lives, just in blanket form, and from the nearby target store. I sit here wishing I had another daughter to re-live those moments from my mom's perspective where her girls fought over not plastic expensive toys, or video games but a giant pink, hole filled robe.

a week or more in iPhone photos

2012-01-26T13:52:00.000-08:00

so there is this picture that was taken on our recent trip to black butte and it's awesome. it's so awesome, i can't wait to share it. however, it's on my real camera which only get's downloaded in a blue moon. so until then, enjoy these.

here is my week in iPhone photos.

Ian, (from his sick bed) made me play-doh lunch. Looks good eh?

Alex is now reading on her own, silently. Which allows me to do something fantastic! Read alone, silently.

Ian and Beck's friendship begins to blossom.

A typical day, a typical moment, my typical kids.

I pulled over one early morning on the way to work to snap this. The picture does not do the beauty justice. What a sight.

Tooth #5! Death by cantaloupe.

Ian thanks his sister for finding his long lost buddy! Hiding Place you ask? In the bottom of Ian's closet in my wedding keepsake box. OF COURSE!

A terrible scene left by two dogs. Yes, that's my new carpeting folks. And thanks Stanley Steemer for your prompt arrival.

My nephew

This is what it means to live with a man. Socks have a hole? Shoes have broken soles? Throw them in the tiniest trash can in the house. Brilliant!

The not so shiny, sparkly, and glittery stuff.

2012-01-25T10:00:00.000-08:00

Dear Carrie & Sean,

Just writing you a note, since I miss you at pick up time. It was another rough day for Ian, and I am not sure what is going on. Today he continued to touch people near their private parts, was potty talking, and burped directly into teacher Julie's face and thought it was funny.

If I can give you some advice as a teacher, mother, and grandmother I think his smile and charm have got him far in his short life. I think 'love & logic' is an excellent approach and he may need some tough love.

Please know I am only trying to help. Ian is such a great kid, he is just going through a rough patch and needs firm and constant direction for awhile.

This is the letter we received from his preschool this week. When I first read it, this is what I heard;

Dear Carrie & Sean,

Just writing you a note since I'm never here when you drop off and pick up. Since he is one of the first here and last to leave I hardly get a chance to talk to you. In fact, I barely know you exist. Ian is not just here for preschool but before and after extended care as opposed to some of the other children who have mothers who can raise their own kids.

Ian has been a total shit lately and it's all your fault. Your too easy on him, and instead of punishing him in the 1 hour a day you have with him, you are letting him get away with murder. Please, in the time you do not have to parent your child please read 'love & logic' which should give you some tools you obviously do not have.

I know I'm being dramatic, it's what I do. But that was my initial response. There is SO much guilt involved in being a working mother. And just in case anyone isn't sure, (as friends have commented on this in the past) this is not my 'choice'. Had I the 'choice' to be home with my kids I would. But we are not all so lucky to have that choice. So I've done the best I can, and sometimes SURPRISE! It isn't enough.

A friend of mine keeps a blog and recently wrote a post titled, the scraps of motherhood. This is a person who get's my life, and more times than I can count over the past 3 years has been my lifeline into the light. It's her and I that swear we'll start a club titled, 'extra-curricular activities against working moms' as we've scoured the internet simultaneously looking for dance, karate, and soccer we could enroll the kids in that wasn't on Tuesdays at 3pm. It's her that I text from my car, fighting tears when I forgot to send Alex with her lunch, or for the umpteenth time had to turn down classroom volunteering or chaperoning a field trip. We have both been through a lot in the past few years and picked each other up when we were down, offered a laugh when needed, but most importantly we've been there to say, 'i know it's hard. it's the hardest. you can do it, you are doing it, and your doing a good job'.

It was these words, her words that got me through this one.

After I had some time to let this letter sink in, I did what I always do and came down to a level of sanity and because I cannot change the amount of time I have with Ian I will have to come up with a new game plan in how I spend that time.

Of course we have weekends to provide 'firm and constant direction', and in the evenings it will have to be less about me and filling the void I have from being away from him and more about him and steering him in the right direction. I guess.

Most evenings I get home at 6:15, start dinner and from that moment on I start my barking.

'Alex, unpack your lunch'

'Ian, take off your shoes and coat and PLEASE HANG YOUR COAT UP rather than tossing it in the air'

'Alex, get out your homework'

'Ian, check Chips food and water bowl'

meanwhile, dinner burns and festers.

Some days Sean arrives home and we quickly eat dinner and head up for baths. Other days (and these are frequent as of late) I receive a text that he's 'running late', or 'won't be home til after bed'. These are harder days as I rush them through and maybe/maybe not give a bath. My #1 priority is leave enough time Alex's 15 minutes of nightly reading. If I don't do this, I receive notes from her teacher like, 'what happened this week' and 'please make sure your making time for reading!'. Through it all there is still a lot of barking going on here regarding 'settling down', 'quieting our voices', 'stop fighting', 'Ian please stop running', 'Alex comb your hair', 'Ian, brush your teeth'. All the while the clock is ticking in my ear TICK TICK TICK. It's now 8:11 and the kids really need to be in bed at 7:45 latest so we can yank them out at 6:45am without too much of a meltdown.

With quick kisses and 'I love you's', I tuck them in and leave their rooms to go and clean up the hurricane that occurred in the chaos of the last hour. I at this point feel defeated, and sad, and lonely for their conversation. I then rehearse all the things I could have done differently, how I could have made better use of my time, and how I could have given each of them more. And then I wonder how I can possibly do it again the next day.

So you may understand that I'd rather gloss over the running, kicking, coat throwing, the burping, potty talk, and toy fighting because I do enough barking as it is. And the guilt of working, piled with the guilt of rushing through my only time with them, piled with the guilt of it not being enough is just sometimes crippling.

When I decided to have kids, I was afraid of being able to care for a newborn. There is so much emphasis on having a 'baby'. The long nights, the lack of sleep, the inability to get out of the house in less than 4 hours, the absence of a social life'. The newborn/baby stage was a blast to me. Taking care of physical needs is a piece of cake! Nobody talks about the really hard stuff. What comes next. Raising a responsible, respectful and caring person, citizen, and human being. That stuff is intense. It is only now as my kids approach 5 and 7, that I feel I have entered the throws of parenthood.

I must say that I love Ian's school. With the time and energy I have put into finding my kids good quality care over the years I could have swam around the world by now, but it's important. And his school and teachers mean the world to me. Despite my initial feelings on the letter we received, I can only commit to doing better and thank them for their caring so much for him and his well-being to make this an issue.

Today, after just 24 minutes at work I received a call that Ian had thrown up at school. My initial response was 'oh my god, i just got here', and 'i have so much work to do', and mostly, 'my poor poor baby'. but now, after having some time to process and as he sleeps quietly on the couch I think, 'oh joy!, a whole day with my sweet boy'. It's the little things.

He's got it, ooh baby he's got it. Okay it's not cool what he has, but it is what it is.

2012-01-19T09:32:00.000-08:00

i love someecards.com. in fact, i love it so much i've thought of sending cards to myself. like this one. i can't even tell you how many times in the 13+ years I've known sean he's said these words to me; HAVE YOU BEEN READING WEBMD AGAIN?

it's true. i'll get on there, type in my minor ailment or kids minor ailment and BINGO! I have glioblastoma. sounds bad, right?

kids are bound to inherit traits from their parents. it's also just the luck of the draw that they get some of the good, and some of the bad.

ian got my mild (i like to call it mild because it sounds better) germaphobic tendencies and moderate (as opposed to severe) case of hypochondria. you'd think he took his fair share of challenges with one bum ear.

super.

so most days, he's sick. and now his teachers know to ignore this. and unfortunately for him, unless he has a fever or is vomiting, his not feeling well comments go where the boy who cried wolf cries go to. nowhere.

he comes home upset if someone at school has a cold, claiming 'they coughed on me and now i'm sick'. or grocery store visits end with disgust when he wants to sit in the cart, but 'there are germs all over it'.

it's cute right? not when he's flailing on the floor in the morning before school pretending to be hit with the plague.

sean isn't as sensitive to it as i am. but i too have physical symptoms of illness when those around me do. i live in fear that whatever bug someone has is coming for me so i end up feeling ill 80% of the time. when i turned this age not to be spoken of i finally admitted this condition to myself and therefore have come to terms with it in a way. and just like i've learned to breathe myself out of a panic attack. i can now talk my way off the 'i'm about to die from a varying number of diseases' ledge. so when ian is concerned that the tiny red bump on his arm is the first symptom of the next 'swine flu', i can sympathize.

ian however, has taken this to a whole new level.

now whenEVER he's mis-behaving (which is frequent as he nears 4 1/2) he claims to have been hit with a 'naughty bug'. he goes on to explain that the naughty bug lives inside him and the other kids gave it to him. the bug is telling his body to be naughty and 'sorry, mom. i can't fix it'.

later he said, 'is there medicine for naughty bugs?'

last night in the bath as he was splashing around and ignoring my plee's to stop slopping water all over the floor he simply and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and said 'naughty bug mom'. then for good measure, he coughed. then wiped his dry nose.

i think if i wasn't over the moon in love with this child, i would classify this as annoying. annoying is when he visits the toilet in the night and forgets to lift the lid, sleepily pee'ing all over the toilet and floor. annoying is getting up at 6am and persistently begging to go downstairs. annoying is growing up too fast and squirming when i want to rock and snuggle him.

Annoying, is strategically placing all your toy cars and planes in a 'deathtrap' formation for mom to ski down with a full laundry basket.

A Four Year old's perspective on MLK day

2012-01-17T10:44:00.001-08:00

Denver was kind of a while ago, but is still worth mentioning. Warning: this post could be classified as a novel.

2012-01-17T10:34:00.000-08:00

When life get's busy, and when my list of to do's get's overwhelming I for some reason come here. It's like writing it all down somehow makes things organized or if the past is documented than maybe I can focus on the future.

Kind of like how I could never study in college unless my dorm room was clean. Or even now I can't relax unless the house is picked up. It's a sickness.

I blame my mother.

December was beyond busy. It was a month packed full of fun, but mixed in with the holidays it I believe pushed me over the edge a little. I moved past 'stressed' to having scary panic attacks and heart palpitations which lead to a doctor visit that resulted in a 'try to remove some stress in your life' talk.

For someone with a full time job and two kids you initially say, 'YEAH RIGHT' but it's true. I may have over-did it.

A weekend trip to Seattle for some needed girl time was followed by a weekend in Denver. In between there was a lot of packing and shopping and gift wrapping and planning. This trip was short notice and may have grown from an imminent need for Sean and I to have a break together. In our 'almost' ten years of marriage we have been away together exactly twice. Once for a wedding (3 days) and once to Seattle (one night) so you can probably understand that after 6+ years with little people running our lives we were beyond ready for a breather.

So, we scanned the country for not too far places with not to expensive flights and unanimously agreed to go and visit Sean's sister Lauren in Denver, CO. It didn't hurt that Sean's beloved Chicago Bears were playing and who'd miss a chance to see Tim Tebow down on one knee kicking the Bears arse's.

DAY 1

We flew in early on a Friday morning and spent the day walking around downtown Denver. It really is a charming City. The people are friendly, the buildings unique, and the sunny skies overhead were beautiful. We popped into a pub for lunch had a beer (or three) which reminded us of our elevation.

Sean doing his 'Tebow' move. Choreography credit goes to Chad Bartley who provided Internet imagery for inspiration.

Tebow #2 in front of the baseball stadium

Weird but cool sculpture.

Once Lauren was off work, we ventured out again and landed at a Brazilian restaurant I like to refer to as 'meat, meat, and more meat'. Really, it is called Rodizio's. We went hungry, and excited with the promise of men walking around with various kinds of meat skewered on large swords. Who wouldn't get excited about that.

The pawn of gluttony and the culprit of our pain

We started off slow with a salad bar and eased into the meat carnival. You had this little red/green puck thing you'd flip when you were ready for more meat. Green was GO and Red was, slow down or 'come back later'. Sean kept flipping to green and Lauren and I struggled to keep up with the slabs of tri-tip, salmon, garlic beef (OH THE GARLIC BEEF!) and bacon wrapped shrimp was sliced onto our plates.

That's when it happened.

We got the meat sweats. Our faces flushed from wine and meat we started to slow down. Our puck was red unless garlic beef man came by to which we'd beg for more. It was one of my lower moments in life. And then Lauren and I ordered dessert.

After hobbling to the train, our stomachs full and aching I realized I had pushed the limit. I spent the next 6-8 hours lying in bed freezing, then the meat fever would come again, and then the cold. It cycled like this for munch of the night my stomach clenched and throbbing.

I blamed the meat, I blamed the wine, and I blamed the elevation. Lastly, I just sucked it up and blamed myself.

DAY 2

I woke up feeling tired but ok and perfectly well enough to move forward with our already planned road trip to Breckenridge. Lauren made sure that my dream and an item on my bucket list was fulfilled by riding up a gondola in a quaint little snow village.

It was a beautiful drive. We saw old gold panning buildings, lakes frozen over where people sat ice fishing, mountain after mountain of snow packed valley's and above it all the beautiful sun shined.

Breckenridge, CO

The town of Breckenridge was adorable. The main road lined with cute little shops and restaurants. We huffed and puffed around the small town gasping for air as the elevation was intense. We reluctantly decided we should 'probably eat' even though we were all still full and ill from the previous nights gluttony. And really, I just wanted to sit down and catch my breath.

Next we took the awesome and surprisingly FREE gondola ride up to the upper ski lodges. The view was breathtaking. The picture taken through a horrible scratched plastic gondola wall does not do it justice.

Later that night, we rallied. And I mean RALLIED because any one of us probably would have been perfectly content throwing on our sweats and curling up in front of the TV but we don't get much time to spend together, and we were on vacation! And in Denver! So we did what anyone would do and went to a local hot spot called, The Tilted Kilt. I think it should have been called, the non-existent kilt. Or, the too small shirt. Or maybe even, 'oh my gosh where are these girls clothes'. However, a place that dresses their girls in scantily clad outfits, serves mediocre food and serves beer in large personal beer dispensers is sure to drag in a fun crowd. It also drug in the large population of Bears fans that were there to see the big game too.

We walked around downtown, passing a few of the Bears players and a lot of decked out fans. People were hooting and hollering and yelling 'BEAR DOWN' and I think if Sean could decide his heaven it would have been there. In those bear fan lined streets.

Day 3

Game Day! I'll be honest. This was originally the part of the trip I was not looking forward to. I don't love or hate football. It just is. When it's on in our house, I'm usually puttering around after the kids to give Sean space or cooking food. I don't sit down and pay attention so really after all these years still don't REALLY get it. I try.

So on this day, with a lot of money invested in tickets I was sorta 'WHA WHA' about the whole thing. Plus, it was freezing cold and I hate freezing cold.

But something crazy happened. First we went to Sam's #3. To say this place is good is an understatement. In fact, only a picture can really do our experience justice.

See? There's bacon in my Bloody Mary.

Second, I really got into this game. The fans around us were great and energetic, there were fireworks, sky-divers, fighter jets, blonde girls on horses, and the noise was incredible. I mean, the Bears lost. No, they really threw it away. But we got to see Tim Tebow do his thing and then equally exciting we got to see the thousands of fans freak out about it.

We headed from the game right to the airport and prepared for reality. We really did have a great weekend together and with his sister. I'm so glad we did it, despite the work and preparation to get there.

Thanks so much to my parents for giving us this weekend away and who after the couple days with our darling kids, still loved them...barely.

Mass Picture Dump, aka (no time to blog catch up but lots to show)

2011-12-07T09:53:00.001-08:00

what we have here is; a failure to communicate. well sort of. i basically have ABOUT a month of photos from my iphone some of which are blog worthy, some of which are not. i have neither the time nor the energy to blog about all the wonderful events of the month and we are going out of town this weekend so i need to do this so i can breath and leave with only a million and one other things to do when i get back.

so here goes, these are the days of our lives.

Sean proclaims, 'show mom your superhero pose!' and nobody does it but him. Also, do not fear, my kids are not homeless. They just chose their own outfits and we failed to brush our hair this day.

the winner is!

a pose with our finished christmas tree

a much needed girls weekend in seattle with two of my besties

the beautiful newport bridge

beer flights at rogue brewery makes for a happy dude

alex watches the sea lions

all i can say here is this photo single handedly explains their individual personalities

ian (aka popeye) makes for a memorable family photo

nanna & poppop pose with the kids

argh!

ian doesn't buy my, 'pilgrims totally ate nutella and toast' bit.

dog and pooch spoon on the couch

pooch judges mom's thanksgiving week wine habit

love him when he's sleeping and relatively unable to injure himself

ian experiments with his sense of style and fails. as does mom's housekeeping duties. pay no attention to the background.

nola and alex running towards pinkalicious!

mommy daughter picture pose before the show

alex and mommy pose before pinkalicious. in true fashion, ian kills it with an epic photo bomb.

A chicken party with frozen turkey legs, barking feet, and a side of thankfulness

2011-12-07T08:49:00.000-08:00

i offered to host our family thanksgiving this year. that meant 17 mouths to feed. i'm not gonna lie, hosting dinners for any number is a lot of work. hosting for the most important food day of the year is stressful! there is so much pressure around the food. there is no tree to 'oooh and awww' about and no gifts to make up for dry turkey and lumpy gravy.

i was happy to do it, and actually enjoy getting the house ready and setting the table. it was potluck, which helped so i was responsible for the guest of honor 'franklin the turkey' and my famous stuffing. well, i think it's famous anyway. the kids and i named the turkey franklin because he was deserving of a name. when you stand in line for a bird, practically throw out your back getting him into the cart and bathe him like a child in your sink, he needs a name. am i right?

tuesday night before the big day, i said farewell to work and took wednesday off. as i was leaving the building, saying my 'goodbye's' and 'happy thanksgivings', i may or may not have asked someone when i should take my turkey out of the freezer.

who knew this would create such an uproar.

'WHAT!?!' the woman answered. 'YOUR TURKEY IS IN THE FREEZER STILL?' she went on, 'OH MY, IT TAKES ATLEAST 5 DAYS IN THE FRIDGE TO THAW', and after she said these words, i panicked, 'YOU'RE SCREWED'.

It was two days before thanksgiving and it was already ruined. FAIL.

i drove directly to costco to hopefully stand in another long turkey line and save franklin for christmas but the turkey cooler was empty. there were a few scattered 9 pound organic dudes floating around in there but 9 pounds was not gonna cut it.

turns out, with a lot of time and effort you can thaw a turkey in 24 hours. thanks to google and the internets franklin was in for several cool water baths and would live in my kitchen sink for awhile.

on the day of, fingers crossed i spread open his little turkey legs and pulled out the still frozen innards, threw him into the oven a little early and prayed a little. after putting franklin in the baker, we called sean's family out east. it's always bitter sweet on these holidays to live so far from his family. when sean's mom said, 'happy thanksgiving!' to ian, he replied with, 'no, it's a chicken party'. we laughed and after hanging up the phone were sad that they weren't coming to our chicken party or that we weren't at theirs.

after 7 hours in the kitchen that morning, and when my feet started barking at me (even before the guests even arrived) i leaned up against the sink remembering how easy holidays used to be when all i had to do was come downstairs. happily saying, 'when's dinner gonna be ready mom' only to find her leaning up against the sink, eyes closed, praying the turkey turns out. then, i thanked god for giving me family, and so many of them to spend the holidays with. then i proceeded to be thankful for the food i was allowed to buy, the roof over my head to hold these people, the husband who feverishly moved tables and chairs in 4 different arrangements, and for my two kids who made everything harder and take longer. and let's not forget the bottle of wine i tapped into before i was even dressed.

i didn't manage to get many pictures of the event. none of the tables and they looked lovely (if I do say so myself). i didn't get a picture where we all stood around and passed a thankful jar, reading the notes that we all wrote, and I didn't even get a picture of the bird. well, all of it anyway. you can find parts of it in the two photos i did manage to capture. here are my two turkey's eating both of the turkey legs.

my darling husband who is always so great about helping cleanup tossed the 'thankful notes' so I can't write most of them out as i wished. but, the overall theme was an abundance of thanks for family, new beginnings, and strength of people and support. they were annonymous thoughts as we passed them around but there was no mistaking who the following belonged to.

'i'm thankful for my school' - alex

'i'm thankful for my bed' -caden

'i'm thankful for my whole family' -ian

'i'm thankful for mooris, my bink, (and a whole long list of named stuffed toys and blankets) - gage

Grandma JoAnne

2011-12-07T08:05:00.000-08:00

i think it's when your older that you really start to appreciate your parents and your grandparents for what they brought to your life. as a parent now, i'm starting to see how that delay in appreciation can be problematic as i look at my 4 and 6 year old with pleading eyes to please acknowledge all that i do for them. i imagine that this get's harder still as they enter their demonstrative teenage years where (from what i hear and personal experience) can leave parents scratching their heads and wondering, 'why did we do this to ourselves?'

multiple times in a week i'm compelled to call my mom and apologize for one thing or another, or to thank her for the immense patience and guidance she gave me. oftentimes I do, to which she laughs and asks what happened.

there is another woman in my life who from the day i was born (as I was her first grandchild) gave all she had to this new endeavor of her life. her and my grandfather never failed to make myself, my sisters and my two cousins feel loved. i think it's something special when you look back and ask yourself, 'what did this person do for me that stood out the most' and the answer be not of monetary value or a tangible object. now, let me not confuse you, there was a lot of that. whether it be the contribution to my education, a trip to disney world and washington dc, the multiple camping excursions, or bailing me out of credit card debt after college with a low interest re-payment plan.

what these two people gave me most of all, was time. memories of berry picking in their backyard, reading books, and taking walks. i have fond memories of my grandparents in black butte where we spent a week each summer. my grandfather had a story he'd tell that ended with a loud hoot that would send us all laughing. he'd teach us how to play poker and every year brought a giant jar of coins for the cousins to split. my grandmother could be found sitting by the edge of the pool at their beach condo for HOURS as we swam with this patience i am now mustering as my kids want to do the same. always with a good and gracious attitude, all because she loved us.

my grandfather passed away a few years ago and what has been left in this family is both a giant hole as we miss his presence dearly as well as this huge bucket of fond memories. my kids still talk dearly of my grandfather and mention him always in the long list of people they love at bedtime. my grandmother who despite her loss continues to show great love, and strength to this family and although i don't always have the time to tell her or show her, i am in such incredible awe of her.

in november (i'm behind here), i hosted a birthday party in her honor. we had a theme this year encouraging everyone to dress up. due to it's proximity to halloween, the party was a hit and my grandma was so pleased. the kids and i made a homemade birthday sign. this was important to me, and important to teach my kids that the giving of time is one of life's true virtues. we took great care in designing each letter as i told them all of my favorite memories of grandma joanne.

i don't really have words to express how proud i am to have this woman as my grandmother. an experienced author of a parenting book , who also runs a parent support center here locally, who still takes her daily walk, frequents weekly poker nights, sings in her church choir and still has the energy for her 4 great grandchildren. HAPPY BIRTHDAY and i love you.

hey, if your one of those 'tmi' accusers. go away now, save yourself, and do not read below.

2011-11-14T11:35:00.001-08:00

there is no such thing as 'tmi' once you have kids. conversations between you and your spouse, significant other, and friends are typically about bodily fluids, poop, and that 'unidentified' rash on your kids behind.

so before i continue, you've been warned. this post is about poop, unidentified substances, and the kind of farts that send you jumping out of your chair at dinner because well. that's what happened.

yesterday i got my hair done. which means sean was left to his own devices with both kids for a few hours. god bless him he took them out and ran a few errands and being the great father he is, treated them to some ice cream at the mall. he took them to this place for a tasty treat.

fast forward to 5:45 pm where our little family of four is enjoying a 3 course meal of chicken, brown rice, and squash (see I'm health conscious like that) when alex jumps up from the table, runs into the bathroom and within 5 seconds emits a sound that rivals harry's explosive diarrhea episode on 'dumb and dumber' and leaves us with the same facial expression you get after watching the clip on 'along comes polly' after rueben eats the spicy food. you get my drift. it was bad.

GREAT.

in my head, i'm battling a mixture of 'oh my gosh, she is sick and how will i now handle the logistics of the week. will i have to call in sick? sean is in late meetings all week, and everything is going to sh*t, literally' mixed with a little bit of 'oh my poor baby'.

i get up and run in and what escapes my mouth then, only sean could remember because the shock of what I saw may or may not have caused memory loss.

neon. blue. diarrhea.

i am not kidding. it was NEON BLUE. I gasped and called for sean to quickly come. this was not normal, nor right and we MUST CALL DOCTOR NOW.

after the episode we sit back to the table, obviously we've all lost our appetite when within 5 more minutes ian jumps up from the table and runs to the bathroom. after emitting the same sound and the same end result i'm now convinced my family has contracted the plague and a quarantine should now be in effect.

so i did what any panic stricken mother would do and scarily grilled them on what they put into their mouths that day.

and that's when sean told me about maggie moo and the 'cotton candy' ice cream.

after 20 minutes of google'ing 'blue neon poop' and 'maggie moo diarrhea' i learn by way of 'yelp reviews' that the cotton candy ice cream at maggie moo's (although so yum and tastes JUST LIKE REAL COTTON CANDY) can cause alarming blue poo.

it should say that on your receipt or something, because damn if i didn't shave 5 years off my life for the shear panic that my kids were dying by way of 'the blue death'. after 12 hours of some repeated trips to the toilet, and a night of severe gas and blue smurfskids on the undies i sent both of my healthy kids to school with the fear that the blue poo would be upon them once again.

so let this be a warning for those thinking of visiting maggie moo, she darn well causes the blue poo.

all in one day

2011-10-28T10:38:00.000-07:00

last night was alex's first grade conference. it's a goal setting conference to discuss progress and goals for the rest of the year. alex and i sat down with her teacher and discussed very important first grade things. first her teacher laughed and said, 'wow, don't you two look alike'. i told her how i was the spitting image of her at that age. i told her that my grandparents often call alex 'carrie' by mistake as even after 27 20 years they still see me as that curly haired 6 year old. we also discussed things like what her teacher loves most about alex. 'she always follows the rules', she said. 'she always listens, pays attention, and that is the best thing a student can do for her teacher'. I beamed.

i also kind of smiled and shook my head. this child is me. i always followed the rules in school. i always listened, and i never wanted to disappoint or be in trouble. i mean, a few times the social butterfly in me earned me a seat outside the classroom for 'chatting' and a passed note was read in front of the class. but otherwise, ANGEL.

i wished sean was there to hear. he was doing something equally important (talking to important people about important things) i also wished i wasn't tearing up and acting like a total emotional wreck. i apologized and dabbed at my eyes, 'sorry, i'm just exhausted.' she smiled, 'you should be proud, she's a great kid'.

we then discussed her schoolwork, how she is in the top reading class and according to her teacher, 'I can't really come up with any necessary goals as she's doing great'. she then assigned her some extra projects to keep her challenged which included a book report, and the challenge of over-coming some of her 'shyness' by raising her hand and speaking up in class more often. also, something she acquired from yours truly.

alex can be challenging at times. she is emotional and stubborn. she is not the most independent child and she has a bit of a temper. but, she is also very smart like her dad and i'm convinced has his photographic memory and mixed with her mom's desire to be a 'people pleaser' she makes a great little student. i'm so proud of my little 6 year old.

now let's rewind an hour to where i picked up ian from school. i was approached by his teachers on tuesday with another issue. whenever ian's sign out sheet has a note 'see teacher', i never know what to expect. for instance on friday, sean picked him up and was told that he was running around the playground with his pants down chasing girls. i have never been so thankful to have asked sean to grab him that day. oh the embarrassment. but on this tuesday, the problem was this: 'ian, after 4-5 helpings of lunch is complaining of a stomach ache. we want to know how you'd like us to handle that.'

i'm not gonna lie. i laughed.

my sweet, caring, emotional, empathetic little boy is also a bruiser, a human wrecking ball, and he can eat like a grown man. he is most recently known for running into his room and super man flying onto his bed. when he hurts himself (which happens 90% of the time) he responds with, 'when am i ever gonna learn' crying through tears the phrase we say to him a million times in one week. also this week, during the hectic 30 minutes before we all leave the house was something that went a bit like this:

(immediately following a series of crashes and bangs and an overall sound of what can only be compared to an earthquake)

sean: ian, i just don't understand you. i cannot keep you safe.

ian: i wasn't even being crazy

(another serious of loud noises)

sean: ian, you are going to hurt yourself!

ian: no, i'm not

(tears and wails from ian as he apparently crashed into some cupboards)

sean (mumbling): i cannot keep you safe from yourself. sit on the stairs until it's time to go, i don't know what else to do to keep you alive.

anyway, back to the school sitch. i suggested they cut his helpings down to just 2nds or 3rds and if after a half an hour he is ethiopian style STARVING they could give him something else to eat but chances are, he will have long forgotten about food and be more interested in throwing large objects towards the ceiling, running in circles, and folding paper airplanes. sure enough it worked.

and today? 'Carrie, we did as you said and he's been doing much better'.

i love this preschool so much. for loving my crazy son for the good, the bad, and the weird he brings each day.

all in one day i find myself just so swollen with pride over alex's school report and at the same time oddly proud that ian is no longer eating himself sick at lunchtime.

does this stuff just happen to me or am I the unknowing star of some reality tv show?

2011-10-25T13:19:00.001-07:00

nothing ticks me off more than when good intentions go awry. when you make a concerted effort to do something good and it backfires. when you pump yourself up for something dreary and then it fails.

today = train wreck.

this morning, sean found me stretching and contorting my body in strange ways near the dining room table as we were getting ready to leave. he didn't ask questions probably because the look on my face was something resembling hate. if hate is a facial expression.

what i was doing, was stretching out my jeans so when I got into the car i wouldn't lose circulation to my lower extremities on my way to work. a friend today referred to my current predicament as 'the growth of my winter coat'. well, it's just nearly fall i'm not ready for a winter coat, muffin top or anything resembling it. so quickly, i packed my gym bag this morning. it's time to put a stop to this.

i was actually looking forward to it. taking a break from work, getting out in the fresh air and taking an hour for myself each day is good for my soul. it gives me more energy, it makes me happier, and it is the one thing i can do that is my choice in a days time.

a co-worker dropped by my desk around 11 today and with a look of, 'i'm gonna ask you anyway, even though you always flake on me' asked if i was going to hit the gym today. I say yes, WITH enthusiasm and point to the gym bag next to my desk and say 'I'M IN'. she says we should take the office bikes over and i politely decline because a)riding bikes in jeans makes my teeth hurt much like seeing people in flip flops and socks and b)i needed to hit the atm machine so opted to drive. also c)i'm lazy and working out is hard enough without riding a bike to get there.

after circling the parking lot 3 times i opt to live on the wild side and take a 4 hour 'visitor spot'. i mean, you can get towed but squeezing this workout in with an afternoon meeting looming was bringing up the anxiety monster in me. so i pulled in, put the car in park and hoped for the best. i think this is when karma swooped in, donkey kicked me in the gut, and then slapped me in the face.

I walked around the car to grab my gym bag out of the back. just then, another rule breaking citizen pulled in to the 4 hour visitor spot next to me. to allow him to park and get out of his car, I had to slightly shut my door to let him by. when i turned around i realized i had just shut my keys, my phone, and my gym bag in my car.

all doors locked.

after the gentlemen walked away with his gym bag in tow i stood there and stared at the car for a bit, tried to open each door three times each and then said a few words i won't repeat here. not knowing what to do i threw out some options to my own self. i could call sean, IN SALEM and maybe in an hour and a half he'd be here to what?, call the locksmith for me? i really didn't want to put up with his looks of, 'how did you let this happen' as if i did it on purpose because standing outside my locked car with a blouse in my hands in an illegal parking spot is super fun. i could call my dad but he's leaving for his big annual hunting trip today and nobody wants to stir up flashbacks of the time in high school i skipped school with friends, went skiing, and then my car died on the way down the mountain (also the day before his big annual hunting trip). because, that was not awesome.

just then a co-worker who i had also planned to meet up with walks by and says, 'it's so good to see you here! it's been awhile'. i look at her with sadness, holding a white blouse that had fallen out of my car in the shuffle. 'i don't think this is gonna cut it for the treadmill' I said.

luckily i was able to use her phone to call campus security who after just 25 long minutes in the crispy cold air came to my rescue with raised eyebrows as i was CLEARLY breaking the rules. they used a blood pressure type thing to crack my door just a tinch, and then slid a big pole in popping the locks for me. apparently, it was a record for the gentlemen who made it happen in less than 6 minutes time where their previous rescues were well into the 7 minute time frame.

so with my lunch break gone, and my spirit shattered i got back into my car and went back to work. not without doing a few deep squats to loosen up the jeans before settling in for the rest of the afternoon.

i'll try again tomorrow and maybe ride a bike over, or god forbid walk. and maybe today is the day there's a big fatty check in my mailbox for that new candid camera show that's out there filming my daily drama's. here's hoping.

The trials and tribulations of home ownership and a human wrecking ball.

2011-10-10T14:48:00.000-07:00

there are days that i'd like to sell all i own, and move to an 800 square foot loft in the pearl district. i want cement floors throughout that I can sweep with a push broom in a giant drain into the center of the room. If they are really dirty, I'll hose them down. i want a couch, a chair and a television mounted on the wall AND NOTHING ELSE. we won't have toys, or tiny metal cars to puncture the bottom of our foot on. we'll live the simple, non-cluttered, minimalist lifestyle that does not coincide with child rearing.

so for fun, we'll go to the park and roam the streets of downtown. we'll live the city life and we'll have time to do this because we won't be raking up 9 giant bags of leaves, or replacing the floors in our bathrooms.

one can dream.

3 weeks ago, we wanted to do the responsible thing and upgrade our downstairs toilet to a more energy efficient model. that, and it couldn't handle our son. or, anything for that matter that required more than one square sheet of tissue paper. basically it was worthless. so on a saturday family outing to home depot we picked up a beautiful kohler thrown and left the store shaking our heads at the things you get excited about in your 30's.

sean is now a pro at replacing toilets and this being his 3rd installation thought it would be a 20 minute job and he'd be watching football by noon. hahahahaha.

ahem.

basically it went like this:

1. sean removes toilet

2. sean begins swearing

3. i run into the bathroom and find him scraping the wood floor beneath the toilet WITH A SPOON. that stuff was coming up like chocolate pudding.

so after a brief assessment we realize the entire floor is not just dry rot, but wet rot. so we do what any responsible home-owner does and spent the next few days ignoring the problem. we thanked our lucky stars the floor did not give way while grandma was visiting and we shut the door and weighed our options. put the house up for sale? no. hire someone to come and charge us a million dollars? uh, no.

so we called my dad who over the course of the last three weeks has once again saved our bank account from a significant casualty. so now for steps 4-10

4. sean and dad tear out the floor. FUN!

5. it becomes clear special order wood is needed. YAY.

6. 2 weeks later we locate 'special wood' at parr lumber in albany for $8. SCORE.

7. sean barrels down I-5 with a 12 foot board sticking out the back of his pimp honda accord. TOTALLY SAFE.

8. sean and dad install new floor, replace tiles, and install toilet base. WE ARE ALMOST HOME FREE.

9. somehow during #8 (explanation vague) a hole was put into the sheet rock.

10. i arrive home after a few hours of errands hoping to find the project done, but instead come home to a cracked toilet tank in the middle of the garage floor and a very guilty looking 4 year old who apparently was 'helping'. SUPER.

so although i'm sleeping better knowing raccoons can no longer crawl into my house at will, we still have a hole in the wall and half a toilet which SURPRISE SURPRISE requires a special order replacement tank for a mere $80 extra dollars. here's the crime scene. I took the opportunity to draw a tank and the line below the toilet use to be the raccoon and opossum's entry site. I KNOW THEY LIVED IN THERE FOR A WHILE. with the spiders.

thanks to my dad for getting us through this disaster and thanks to sean for remaining relatively calm and patient during this difficult time.

The week according to my iPhone

2011-10-07T15:36:00.001-07:00

in honor and respect of mr. Steve Jobs, here is my week according to my iPhone.

here we have a summary of what my 2.5 hours in the car looks like. speedometer at zero, break lights as far as the eye can see, and rain.

look what we have here. a collection of my childhood barbies and clothes strewn about the room by the beloved SOB. arms and legs everywhere. i might as well have bought him a $79 chew toy, and allowed him to crap on all my childhood memories.

a happier moment this week where ian asked if we could take a photo kissing. he's only 4, it's still acceptable, right? RIGHT?

i done chopped my hair off.

my gap toothed girl taking a bath, all smiles. love.

and this here sums up my week of words with friends. kicking me while I'm down (100 points) with a bunch of vowels. If only e-i-e-i-o from old mcdonald were a word.

the sick is back.

2011-09-26T18:23:00.000-07:00

it's that glorious time of year again. the time of year that northwester's prepare for their 9 month hibernation by retreating into their homes clutching their bottles of vitamin d (and other drugs) their backs into the corner crouched on their hind legs in the fetal position, rocking back and forth waiting to live again. or wait, maybe that's just me. i am reminded that for those optimistic types this time of year brings that crisp cold air, crackling fires, beautiful fall foliage, homemade soups and fall tv premiers. for 'others' it brings sadness, a deep desire to sell all you own and buy a one way ticket to somewhere, silent fights over the thermostat and last but not least, it brings the sick.

each year, like clockwork as the kids return to school (which i'm not positive is really school but a giant, airless room where kids hold hands, cough in each others faces, and smear snot on every germ adhering surface) i wait 7-10 days for the symptoms to start.

and sure enough. they came.

september thru may we spend the weekends seeking indoor activity for the kids, we take them to children's museums, omsi (a hands on, ~~snot~~ science establishment), and any enclosed plastic padded jungle gym we can find. we travel to grocery stores with antibacterial wipes to swipe the shopping carts down in hopes of eliminating just half of the microscopic vermin waiting to pounce. then, monday thru friday we juggle sick kids and work and sit at our desks waiting for the phone to ring and wonder if fever, cold, flu, pink eye, or the swine will be the culprit this time.

i love this time of year.

last week, a co-worker PISSED at another co-worker decided to park her sick face at my desk and complain in between sneezes. i mean, how ignorant to come to work infecting those around you right? popping cough drops one by one, she bitched. and today, i thanked her personally for spreading the love and with the turn of my heal left her desk with her leftover bag of hall's mentho-lyptus. in cherry flavor.

to make matters worse, ian has been showing signs of what my grandmother (who wrote a book on parenting and teaches classes on the subject) calls 'indulgent behavior' by claiming he's sick, or his stomach hurts at the drop of a hat. it is usually following a request to brush his teeth, or pick up his toys where he will flail to the ground in a fit of pain and grab his legs and cry, 'MY LEGS'.

the kid knows his mother is a)deathly afraid of 'the sick' and b)is a self admitted (mild) hypochondriac. in other words, he get's attention for this behavior in the form of me kind of flailing to the ground in a fit of 'woe is me' claiming the world may be ending and how will i juggle life and work and the sick. all, while sick. people call me dramatic.

i need to work on that.

so, we deliver him to school each day with stomach aches, headaches, and feelings of near death and hope for the best. we've talked with his teachers and received permission to do so and i've gotten pretty good at driving to work and getting through my day, all with my fingers crossed.

this morning ian stumbled into our room rubbing his eyes and in the sweetest (i'm about to melt your heart) voice said he 'hates mondays and doesn't feel good'. he then crawls into my lap, the lap i just drug out of bed after wavering for 15 minutes between snoozes on whether my cough was bad enough to call in sick and says, 'can't you just stay home with me?'

i have never wanted to indulge him so bad in my life. so, here we go. andy williams sang it's the most ~~miserable~~ wonderful time of the year. we'll see about that. please feel free to disregard all posts until may unless you'd like to join in on what will surely be the diary of a crazed woman.

what.

2011-09-07T12:59:00.000-07:00

whenever someone asks me how old my kids are I say, 4 & 6. not like, 'eh they are oh......4 and 6' all nonchalant as if it's old news. instead it's more like, '4 & 6!' while slightly yelling and followed by a million invisible exclamation points. i mean, can you believe it? i'm reminded of this monthly as one of my passwords (OK, it's for my water and sewer bill just go ahead and break in and pay the heck out of it if you want) is '2 and 4'. how did 2 and 4 become 4 and 6?

how did i get here?

yesterday, alex started first grade. and it still feels like just yesterday she was tugging on my pant leg in the kitchen signing 'more' with her itty bitty fingers and then saying 'dee doo' (thank you) after handing her a drink.

last year, i cried for days before school started. i dropped her off, walked her to her room and was quickly 'shoo'd' away with a, 'mom i got this'. i had bought her

several new school outfits, a new backpack and lunch box. her hair was freshly cut and i left her there with all her baby teeth still in tact. i mean, she couldn't even read! i walked quickly from the school swallowing my sobs until i made it safely to my car.

this year, i left for work before the bus came and sean saw her on. she walked herself to her new classroom in the 1 new dress we managed to snag at target while picking up laundry soap. like a pro, she braved a new teacher and new classmates. when i picked her up that afternoon and asked her how her day was she said, 'you know...good. it's school. i only had 1 recess' with a bit of a lisp as she has one big fat front tooth and another dangling. she waved to her friends, dropped a few steps behind me and that was that.

how quickly my life has transformed from diaper bags and bottles, strollers and burp clothes to school, and homework. and soccer practice. and summer journals. what? I am nowhere ready for this but when in the world are we ever truly ready for big change. i look at ian daily with a feeling of loss as i prepare myself to next year walk him to his classroom and have him wave me off as if to say, 'you can't do this for me mom. just go'.

i know it's coming, like a giant freight train. and no matter how many times i sneak into his room at night and wrap myself around his tiny body, it's never tiny enough.

i'm thankful for work this week, for deadlines and due dates. i'm thankful for our busy schedule of work and soccer practice, birthday parties and distractions to keep me feeling like life is 'normal' when deep inside i feel like it's anything but.

being a working mom, i'm used to turning my children over each day. i'm used to seeing them off, and spending hours away from them at a time. and you'd think that the 'dreadful' day i like to call it, when I first had to leaver her at 4 months old would have prepared me for these milestones but it didn't. before you glance below at a photo sean took just moments before i had the biggest emotional breakdown of my entire life, please take into consideration the following:

i was 25 pounds from pre baby weight
sleep deprived
owned a completely inadequate camera that used, wait for it....FILM.
i obviously (apparently) WAY over-did it on the concealer and look far more like a geisha than a financial analyst.
i'm lie smiling here because i was no kidding worried that i'd forever remember this day with horror, sadness and the 2 boxes of tissues i went through if i didn't smile

and now, i just see a fatty and a faker and so, with that...

and today?

it's pretty clear to me that alex was much more ready for first grade than she was for daycare that day. and here i am smiling for the camera yet again when all i want to do is cry, and steal my own child away forever.

i'm so proud of my girly. i hope that every year as we take these photos we are still smiling, that she still lets me hug and kiss her (eventually in private i assume) and that i always get to have a say in the first day of school outfit.

Once a pouter, always a pouter...

2011-08-25T15:40:00.000-07:00

Alex, age 2

2011 Kolmer Family Vacation

2011-08-20T19:29:00.000-07:00

i think we drove 830+ miles in the past 4 days. during the drive, i'd chuckle out loud at two things. first, a feeling of nostalgia as i was actually living the stories played by the griswold's in the 'vacation' movies. no, we didn't go to europe. no, we didn't go to wally world. but we went to southern oregon, and these kids said some funny things.

after 5 minutes on the road, I had torn a piece of scrap paper from alex's workbook and began scribbling the commentary amidst our 830+ miles and 16 combined hours of car time.

our first stop was 3 1/2 hours south in winston at wildlife safari. what an amazing experience to drive amongst free wildlife in what felt like the africa safari. the zebras, giraffe's and rhino's ran free. some others (bears, hippo's and other) were behind fences and I do believe those pesky and disgruntled ostrich's belonged their too. thank god for electric windows.

QUOTES TO NOTE:

'dad, are you a monkey liker?' -ian

'look at those beauuuutttiiifffuuuul butts!' -caden (about the zebras)

next we drove another hour south to grants pass, where we settled in at a super classy la quinta inn. This (according to the kids) was the highlight of their trip due to the indoor swimming pool. who knew 4 days of fun filled activity could be substituted with a dank and over chlorinated indoor pool? we had a nice dinner at a local brew pub where we were served free flights of beer much needed after 4 hours in a car with three kids.

QUOTES TO NOTE:

'can you guys be quiet so Ian can go to sleep? -carrie

'what if I need to sniff really loudly? -caden

'well, that would be fine.' -carrie

'SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF' -caden

'i've never been to a hotel before' -caden

'it's just like staying at someone else's house but nobody really lives there.' -alex

(at restaurant)

'can we go?' -ian

'we need to pay the bill first' -sean

'who's bill?' -Ian

day 2 we headed even further south to the oregon caves. i'm so incredibly proud and impressed that all three kids (without complaint) maneuvered 500+ stairs (some very steep) and over 1 mile of terrain all within temperatures of near 40 degrees. we were oftentimes in the dark with bats looming overhead. they loved the experience and even humored us for a mile hike afterwards.

later that night we made camp at our good friends parents house in medford and enjoyed some fountain play, crochet on the lawn, and a lovely visit with our gracious hosts.

day 3 was spent in central point/ashland/jacksonville with a dear friend of mine ali (and her husband jeff) who i've known since high school, roomed with in college and have kept in touch ever since. she has a spectacular family and we were lucky enough to spend the day with them enjoying breakfast, a jaunt thru lithia park and later, a boat ride on their brand new boat.

QUOTES TO NOTE:

'look at that old car' -sean

'oh man, that must be from the 1970's' -alex

(it was clearly from long before then)

(jeff to carrie at breakfast while enjoying tri-tip steak omelet, and biscuits and gravy)

'i'm on a juice diet. trying to cut weight for elk season'

'how's that going for ya?' -carrie

'i'm kind of loose with it' -jeff

'BURP' -caden

'excuse you!' -sean

'thanks' -caden

'you don't get it' -sean

'hhmm' -caden

day 4, we were up and at em early for our last excursion CRATER LAKE. it took us 2 hours to get there but was well worth the trip. it really makes you realize how fantastically beautiful oregon is. we were reminded of this when we ran across a motorcyclist who asked us to take a photo of him with the snow in the background. He said, 'you live here?' we said, 'yes'. his response, 'damn, you have a beautiful backyard'. it's true, i complain many months of the year about the drear, the rain, the clouds. but it is worth every second for just this week of pure wonderment. crater lake is a must see for anybody and i was so happy to share this with the kids, and sean who was visiting for his first time.

the steepness of the cliffs, the height at which we hovered above the water (i'll be honest) scared me. i envisioned the kids falling over the edge, tripping and flinging over the hill (i know, i'm psycho). i see heinous injuries before they happen, or ever will. who knew that it's size and the height at which we perched would inflict a panic attack? i have these frequently, and usually can breath/talk myself out of them and this one was no different. had i had a paper bag, i would have been the chick in the corner rocking and breathing with my eyes squeezed shut but to no avail i had lives to save. i clutched the kids hands tighter, held onto their shirts, and sean shook his head at his lunatic of a wife.

we circled half the lake, stopping at various viewpoints for photos. we'd point and stare in awe of this giant hole in the earth. it's brilliant blue, the history, all amazing. i'll be honest, getting 3 kids in and out of their seats every few minutes got tiring and soon we set up camp for a picnic to rest for a bit before our 5 hour trip home.

QUOTES TO NOTE:

'we are 5 minutes from crater lake guys!' -carrie

'eh, well. i sort of feel like riding a horse instead....MOO' -caden

'?' -carrie

'most of the volcanoes exploded when the dinosaurs were alive' -alex

'yep' -ian

'uh huh' -caden

(and this was the first time the 3 agreed all week)

'i've seen 5 different license plates. there's 6, 7.....8' -sean

'yeah, this place is like...a national deal' -carrie

(at picnic area about some fellow campers)

'look at those people, they are having a garage sale' -ian

(thinking she's talking about the crater)

'okay everybody, this is amazing. i think my tooth might fall out this week' -alex

we made one last stop for gas, got gatorades for the kids (bad idea) and an orange fanta for myself at which sean scoffed and said it looked disgusting. I drank it with glee and maybe moaned a few times in it's deliciousness. 10 minutes down the road when he got thirsty, he took a giant swig, looked at me with a grin and said, 'this is not good, it's just wet'. moral of the story is: nobody can deny the orange fanta.

from there, we endured a beautiful drive along the umqua river to roseburg where we all lost steam, and damn near got angry with each other. the iPad had lost it's luster, the seats were no longer comfortable, and the snacks no longer tasty. the bathroom breaks got old, real old. and that's when from the very back row of the car, ian says 'i'm just gonna pull all of this stuff out', and that's when we just didn't care anymore. it wasn't long after that sean slapped a dollar bill on the dash of the car and DARED caden to stop talking for a few exits, and slighty before he slammed on the breaks, pulled to the side of the road and gave ian the look of hate. this kolmer happy vacation was o.v.e.r.

for more pictures of the 'happier times', please look here.

Ian Patrick Kolmer, NICU, ER, MBA.

2011-08-04T09:54:00.000-07:00

so far, these are ian's 'credentials'. he received his 'NICU' when he was a few weeks old and the medical and panda express (ambulance) bills started rolling in. we joked that he wouldn't be getting a college education due to the medical bills in his first week of life and we'd surely be paying off the debt of his 1 week stay at OHSU until he was 34. in addition, the yearly visits to doernbecker for hearing tests and screenings would cut into any contributions we could make into a college fund.

last week, ian furthered his education beyond NICU and received a degree in 'ER'. just one short week after i stupidly proclaimed my shock that ian (our rough and tumble, crazy, can't ever walk boy) had never had stitches or some other serious injury aside from your average goose egg.

i'm now eating my words as 8 stitches slowly dissolve into Ian's head.

thirty five minutes before sean and I were to leave for edgefield to enjoy some golf and a fleet foxes concert with friends, cries from the cul-de-sac caused a change of plans. our neigbor (age 6) who the day before had her training wheels removed from her bike, plowed into ian (on his bike) causing him to hit the pavement. then, she ran over his face.

15 minutes later, we are in the ER.

the aftermath

day 2

day 3

day 4

for his quick recovery and his bravery, I'm awarding him with an honorary 'MBA' (major bad ass) degree. what a sport, what a bruiser.

A special Day, An act of kindness

2011-06-30T09:18:00.000-07:00

9 years ago today, I woke up on a beautiful June day. I nudged two of my best friends who were still sleeping and said, 'It's Today!'

Back then, 'Today' was my wedding day. The day went so quick, that if I try to remember all the details it appears like a commercial you fast forward through. It was here, and it was gone. But each year as we celebrate our anniversary I like to sit and reflect and remember everything I can about that special day. I thought it would be fun to make a list of my top most memorable moments. In no particular order:

1. The immense feeling of love I felt that day as all our friends and family came together to celebrate us.

2. All my girls, and mothers, and sisters getting our hair done together in eager anticipation for the day.

3. My grandfather standing before us, such an incredible example of a good man, husband and father asking us to 'repeat after me'.

4. The quiet and 'private' moment we setup where Sean could see me in my dress for the first time. The look on his face, and the giggles and tears from my bridal party who spied on us from around the corner.

5. Walking down the aisle with my dad who sensing my nervousness, patted my arm and just smiled.

6. Brent's (Sean's brother) best man speech. We tease him now, but having him be there standing by Sean's side, and being THAT nervous was so endearing.

7. Dancing with my dad for the first time in my life where I wasn't standing on his toes.

8. A photo I have and still cherish of me with all of my girlfriends. Some of which I've grown closer with, some who our relationship has remained the same, and others who over the years we've grown apart.

9. The moment during our ceremony where the ice sculpture deliverer dumped a bucket of ice that echoed throughout the entire hall and I realized that 'weddings are never perfect'.

10. My first dance with Sean as a married lady and realizing that I could not be any luckier.

11. Watching our family members approach the DJ and request songs like, 'celebration' and 'YMCA' and have them turned down. They sure did stay true to my 'do not play list'.

12. Our friend Darren, and one of Sean's groomsmen removing his dress shirt during a dance and revealing a t-shirt with 'I fear no beer' and then watching him use the dress shirt as a prop in his dance moves.

13. Looking around wide eyed for my grandparents as the song 'baby got back' played. Feeling the judgement, but only caring a little.

14. Looking around during the reception at nearly everyone on the dance floor, jumping and dancing and smiling and thinking, 'now, THIS is a party'.

15. Driving to our hotel, IN my Honda Prelude, STILL wearing my wedding dress.

16. Starving to death (as most brides do), ordering pizza, and falling asleep with the box on my chest (in my wedding dress still).

I knew that day as Sean and I stood together that I loved him. I had no idea how much. I had no idea that with the birth of each of our children it would seem to double and triple. As the years pass we've matured, we gain more respect for each other every day, more understanding, and strengthen how we operate as a team. This is not to say we have not had our rough patches, that we are perfect, or that we both don't have days where we want to ring the others neck.

However, if Sean can make it 9 years screwing the toothpaste lid on for me, and I can pick up the clothes off the bathroom floor for him, and together we can survive this thing called parenting I think we'll be alright.

Today, after a frustrating afternoon, a horrible commute and two stops to pick up the kids, I drug them into the local Fred G Meyer for an anniversary card. I stomped around the store, my hands wrapped tightly around each of their hands as they bounced and flailed and asked for a new pillow pet. I regretted my tardiness in this task. I still had two more stops before home, and a mountain of laundry to do, bags to pack, and food to buy for our 4th of July weekend. Ian's birthday is in 4 days and I have nothing for him. I even maybe laugh out loud a little at the irony of the cards I was reading which said, 'Happy Anniversary'. I thought they should say something like, 'Tired Anniversary' or 'Wish we could celebrate our Anniversary', or 'Let's at least shoot for 5 minutes of adult conversation on our anniversary'.

I looked for the shortest possible line to pay and ended up in a line with just one woman in front of me. As I dig for my wallet I see the MOUNTAIN of clothes and accessories she's purchasing and the (for lack of a name on his name badge) potential brand new employee ringing her up. My eyes grow wide, if it were possible steam may have come from my ears and I prayed for calm, peace, and serenity.

All I wanted to do was beat Sean home so I could write on his card and un-wrap the take-out I planned to pick up on the way home. Maybe if I had the time to put it on a plate (because that is less ghetto) I'd feel better.

The woman glanced over at me and reads the cover to my card which of course read, 'Happy Anniversary'. She then looks down at the bouncing bundles of energetic JOY who were pleading for a snack and says to me, 'Is that all your're buying?' I say, 'Yes, they were all out of straight jackets'. She laughs and takes the card from me, and asks the cashier to scan it for her. 'Have a happy Anniversary' she said.

I thanked her profusely and I may or may not have teared up at this random act of kindness. I try to perform these acts spontaneously throughout the year and this was the first time the karma was blatantly returned. And it was in a moment when I needed it most.

I made it home with our brown bag of food, a card, and some renewed perspective. I don't think that woman will ever know the profound effect she had on me. But I do plan to pay it forward.

To Sean, who after 9 years is still putting up with me I thank you deeply. I was so lucky to find such a dedicated, driven, and 'mostly' patient man to live this crazy life with. Nobody knows me better or deeper and there is nobody I'd rather deal with the bad or celebrate the good with. I write this in hopes that one year from now we are just as happy, and maybe a little tan after a well deserved week somewhere tropical and relaxing where children are not allowed.

And we stifle our laughs...

2011-06-28T16:19:00.000-07:00

Ian is at this hilarious age. I feel like everything he says or does is funny. Even if it's wrong, naughty or inappropriate. In these instances we deliver the solemn faced punishment, advise him of our disappointment and then run with our hands over our mouths into the other room to laugh in private.

We went through a two month period where each and every day I picked him up from school, I would wait for the teacher to pull me aside. I'd see a note jotted on the sign in sheet. 'SEE TEACHER', it would say. I'd tip my head back, roll my eyes and like a kid in trouble would sulk to the teacher and ask, 'what this time?'

Usually it was in regards to his 'potty words'. What is it about boys and these 'no-no' words? I DO NOT KNOW. We don't talk like that in our house. At least not in front of the kids and from a young age we worked to instill the words we wanted them to use that were of our liking. But of course, there is JUST so much you can control about a 3 year old. The final straw was when Ian received a stronger course of action at school for swatting another boy on the rear in the restroom. Now to me, this is just part of being a boy? I mean, he's just advanced, right? Isn't that what happens in the boys locker room? On the football field? Regardless, he rec'd weeks of solitary bathroom use and could not enter the boys restroom unless alone.

As I'd buckle him in the car each day and dole out the punishment for the night (usually something taken from him, (the privilege to drive his electric car, his favorite toy, or the after dinner t.v. show) he would pout his lip, cross his arms and one day he exclaimed, 'I hate you'.

I gasped. I retracted from him shaking my head in disappointment. My 3 year old son hated me.

I remember as a kid the word, 'hate' not being allowed in our house. Low and behold, we are fighting the same battles in our 4 and now 6 year old. Alex started it, surely picking up the word from school and when frustrated, mad, or what have you would scream, 'I hate myself!'. This of course was hilarious to us as, I think she really meant to say, 'I hate this' or that or the situation, maybe even 'I hate you'. Regardless, 'I hate myself' would send us sneaking out of the room to hide our grins. It was time for an intervention.

We buckled down alongside the teachers, working together to nip this problem in the bud and I'm happy to say that after a week or two of swift and diligent consequences for his actions he was on the up and up.

One Friday, after 5 whole days without a timeout or 'potty word' at school I buckled Ian in his car seat, I told him how proud I was of him. I said, 'this deserves a reward with a dinner out!' His response, 'Ah Mom. Thanks! I don't hate you anymore!' After dinner, the kids got to choose a 'shot' of dessert of their choice. These are adorable, tiny sized desserts that fit in a double shot glass. Perfect size, perfect price for our perfectly behaved, non potty word saying angel boy.

I watched Ian finish his dessert with pride, and smiled as he put the last bite into his mouth. We did it! We were cocky in our parenting skills as we glanced around at the Mis-behaving kids in our midst. All it takes is consistency and dedication! Ian then dropped the spoon into the empty shot glass and shouted, 'Butt hole!'. And with that, he was whisked from his chair and taken to the car with a full belly of chocolate lava cake and a smile on his face.

He's also smart as a whip. Our bedtime routine usually goes something like this: He'll bat his eyes, snuggle up to me and sing me a little song. He says 'Mom, did you hear that? I sang you a song and I'm giving it to you. Giving it to your heart.'

I thank him, kiss him, snuggled him and can't let go.

Then he says, 'So...Can I have another story?'

Some of you may remember this post. Not much has changed since these early days of getting Ian to sleep in a 'big boy bed'. We have ourselves a night owl with this one and luckily he stays in his room for the most part talking, singing, quietly playing with intermittent shouts that send us cracking up downstairs. Each evening as we head upstairs to bed we each stop into each of the kids room to fix their covers, kiss them goodnight, and most importantly see what predicament Ian fell asleep in.

He is notoriously in a funny position, toys strewn about, bed completely torn apart, and as of late, resting high on a tower of pillows like the 'prince and the pea'. He pulls the backrest from the mini-couch in his room, stacks on that his pillow, on top of that his pillow pet, on top of that HIM like a king on his thrown. All the blankets (and there are many) piled on top of him. With a gentle push, he rolls from his tower and settles nicely on his bed and I have to use all my willpower not to giggle out loud and wake him.

I never know what each day will bring with this child. Whether it's a head injury, a giant kitchen spill, a stern talk with his teacher, or a stifled laugh. I will say (and I'm going to use a forbidden word here), I hate to imagine a day without him. Good behavior or bad behavior if you can laugh through parenthood, and the ups and downs of it I think you're doing alright.

2011-06-28T15:00:00.000-07:00

On May 19th, 2005 at 4:39 pm, Sean and I welcomed a little girl into the world. She weighed 8 lbs, 3 oz and was 21.5 inches long. We named her Alexandra Reese and today, that little girl turned six.

I didn't keep this blog when she was born, but if I had I would have surely written a novel on that day. I would have in way too many words expressed my awe, my wonderment, and my pure fear in how I would take care of this infant I knew nothing of.

I remember looking at my mom on the day she was born eyes wide, body still feeling the trauma of child birth, tears streaming down my face from both pain and joy and saying, 'Mom, I think I got a fussy one'.

My mom laughed at my instant judgment of the 'wee ones' personality. She didn't know that weeks later, she would admit I was right after we suffered 2 months of agonizing colic.

Each day since, (and I do mean when the colic finally ended) I have fallen more in love with this girl than I knew possible. The way in which she has matured each year has blown me away. She has an incredible personality and spunk and a sense of humor her Momma is so proud of! This year, she went to Kindergarten and lost her first teeth. She made new friends and wowed us on the soccer field. She cares for and loves her brother and shows him only in his most vulnerable moments. She always makes sure he 'knows his role', and that 'she is the alpha sibling' but is always the first to run to his rescue, help him up if he falls, and grab an extra snack on her way through the kitchen.

The older she gets the more I see myself in her. Not just in how she looks as I was a spitting image of her at this age but in her personality. In all honestly, this is good and bad. She's warm, caring, and respectful. She always wants to do good, and be appreciated. On the other hand I'm learning (as myself) she's a bit of a glass half empty girl. This is a character trait I have battled with honestly for several years after many years spent resenting the label. This last weekend, after a fun-filled day at the balloon festival complete with rides, and an elephant ear, Alex cried incessantly in the bath that night screaming, 'this was the worst day of my life'. All because we ran out of tickets and she did not get to go 'fishing' to win a prize. I sat back, hands lathered in her shampoo and like a freight train was hit with the realization of the battles I used to have with my parents.

I've since called my mom and apologized AGAIN as I've done several times over the years for my childhood behavior.

I like to associate being a 'half glass full girl' with just wanting to do and be everything at 100%. When that doesn't happen her and I both get frustrated and discouraged and instead of focusing on what we did do and accomplish, we focus on what we didn't or wanted to. I hope that as I have over the years learned to recognized this and improve upon it that one day she will too. She has a lot to learn from me good and bad, fortunately and unfortunately.

Like me, Alex is an emotional being. Yes, this means that she may over-react, appear 'dramatic' and blow little problems out of proportion. This also means, she sometimes cares more than she should. She is empathetic and caring and a worrier. She can, without words, make my day brighter with a hug she can sense I need.

Alex is smart as a whip just like her dad, and has a photographic memory of sorts. She remembers times and locations and events and is often asking me, 'Hey mom-remember when I was three and....' She blows my mind with her love to learn, write and read.

For her sixth birthday, we had an 'at home party' with a small group of TWELVE kids. This was after she narrowed her list down from 20. Being a social butterfly has it's drawbacks! We converted our garage into an art studio and I do believe she had a blast.

I can't believe how quickly time flies. I can't believe that 6 years have passed. I remember the day she was born like it was yesterday. I remember our first car ride home where we kept looking into the backseat and then to each other shaking our heads in amazement. I remember her first words, and her first steps. I remember the first time I hauled her kicking and screaming from the grocery store. I remember everything yet it feels like such a blur.

My wish for Alex on her sixth birthday is that one day, when she reads this blog she understands even a tiny fraction of how much love her dad and I have for her. That she knows how deeply she's blessed our lives, and how all her traits are so loved and appreciated.

Happy Happy Birthday to my sweet Alexandra Reese, may your next year be as great as the last!

I put my hands up, they're playing my song. The butterflies fly away. I'm nodding my head like Yeah...(but really I'm just going crazy)

2011-05-27T08:08:00.000-07:00

I find it necessary to start this post with something positive. Let's say I recognize a few things I love and we call it good to even out the imminent negative documentation of my arrival home yesterday? I say that's fair.

Hmmm. Let me think.

I love how Ian on many recent occasions pops in on me while I'm getting ready, snuggles up to me on the couch, or as is common these days hops into bed for a good morning spoon and says, 'Hey Mom, watcha doin this weekend?' As if he's just about to ask me out on a date.

I love finding him at 11:30 at night standing at the toilet, head back, arms to his side relieving himself half asleep having un zipped his Jammie's but having failed to pull down the undies.

I love asking him where he got a little bruise on his bum and having him promptly reply that he got it from 'America'.

I also love how Alex refuses to yank out the dangling front tooth that has been hanging by a teeny tiny thread for weeks now. I love how she refuses even though it inhibits all the food she can eat, and affects her speech which she enunciates by talking very matter of factly.

I love watching her at her birthday party with all her new school friends and seeing her smile that the day is all about her.

I love all my new plants I potted last weekend in a feverish fury to start the process of transforming our yard from it's winter induced mess to lovely summer status.

There. Moving on, let's get down to the nitty gritty.

Yesterday was otherwise a typical day. I say typical and mean it was just as long and tiring. It started just as early. Work was just as gruesome and stressful and like most days of late I received a text from Sean that said, 'I'll be home late'.

Super.

So to make things 'easy on me' I did the responsible and health conscious thing and stopped at McDonalds to treat the kids to a happy meal because a)I had a gift card and b)Ian made it another day without ending up in the timeout corner for saying 'potty words'. These days, that's cause for celebration.

We pulled into the driveway and Alex starts hollering from the back. I turn my head and she has opened her apple dippers caramel and it has proceeded to find itself on her raincoat, her lap, the wall of the car door and is smeared up the window. I tell her to hurry up and get inside I'll clean it up (which I wonder why bother my car is a cess pool of food shmears and litter).

Usually when I approach the door to the house I can hear the squeals of the dog as he impatiently awaits our arrival. But, silence. When I stepped inside I arrived to a scene that caused me to drop the McDonalds sacks, my purse, the kids backpacks, a stack of mail that has been littering my car, and 4 coats from the back seat I've been looking for. And that's when the screaming started. Chip, our neurotic and anxiety ridden shelter dog relieved his freakish self's emotional instability by demolishing all items from Alex's dress up basket, two pair of sunglasses, a puzzle, her brand new dry board eraser (hence the shrieks) amongst many other random items. He flung pillows around the living room, drug blankets around the house, moved his dog bed from one room to another and there were SHOES everywhere. Un-chewed, thank god.

Chip meanwhile was hovering (head down in shame) by the back door knowing he was in deep doo doo.

The Kids WERE LIVID. And there are not words to describe my feelings on the matter.

I threw my hands up, put them on my head, spun in a circle and otherwise had a silent emotional breakdown and went into hyper freak out mode. I'd like to think that if you're a mother (or father) and whether you work full time and struggle to juggle all the responsibilities of life in too few hours, OR if you stay home with little people all day and you tell me you don't have these moments where you pray to god someone will just have you committed. I think you're lying.

I took a moment to pull myself together and decided there was just one thing to do. I started cleaning. I picked up the shredded items and walked them over to the trash and my mind starts spinning again. It was like a scene from a lifetime movie where the videography slows down and pauses on specific items to show drama? All I saw was dishes strewn about the counter, a sink full of dirty dishes, a dishwasher flashing that it was ready to be unloaded, syrup was hardened and crusted to the kitchen table from the kids breakfast, and in the middle of the hall were Ian's urine ridden sheets I forgot to put in the wash before I left for work.

When Sean got home he did what any husband of a woman on the verge of a mental breakdown would do and silently started helping to bring our life into some state of livability, just after taking the dog out for a good and proper scolding of course.

From there things turned more 'typical' in nature and after a 'beer mug' sized glass of wine, and some Dreyers chocoloate chip mint ice cream my blood pressure returned to normal, the multiple personalities went back to their homes and Chip got to come back inside.

It was a typical Wednesday night...

2011-04-21T09:33:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here at my desk chuckling and I cannot stop. Every few minutes the mental image of what I witnessed last night flashes in front of my eyes, blocks the dual monitors I work from and makes me giggle out loud.

It was a typical Wednesday night, I was on my own for bedtime as Sean has committee meetings. I was dragging myself through the motions, checking the clock and wondering if it was acceptable for me to go to bed at 8:15.

It's no secret that Alex has what we call, 'emotions'. She's got a temper and at times we find ourselves leaving a room to let her work out her frustrations, to scream ridiculously, or pitch whatever fit she feels necessary to deal with her baggy pant leg, her itchy shirt, or the fact that she left her 'shiny' (sleep blanket) down in the laundry room.

It was one of those nights, emotions mixed with a dose of crazy from some early Easter Candy had her bouncing around on her bed as I tried to tuck her in. I gave up, told her I'd come back in a few minutes after she calmed down and headed to the storage closet to pull out the easter basket she needed for school the next day.

It was when I was deep in the closet and had crawled over suitcases, wrapping paper containers and several bins of tiny baby clothes that I heard the screaming. It was a blood curdling scream which is not unusual when she is REALLY MAD at her untied shoelace or otherwise so I didn't panic.

I took my time gathering what I needed, I even took a few seconds to scoot the suitcases out of the way and slowly crawled out wondering if we ever move out of this house if I could just leave all this stuff here.

The screams continued and I leisurely walked down the hall, head back, eyes rolling wondering if I was ever going to be able to sit down in peace this evening.

I turned the corner into her room and had to stifle with EVERY bit of strength I had from laughing out loud as I found Alex dangling upside down from the foot board of her bed. Her feet were in the air, she was hanging by one arm grasping onto her antique iron bed frame with a look of fear on her face that SHE JUST MIGHT FALL 4 INCHES TO THE FLOOR was priceless.

I lifted her up and asked what happened and she frantically told me her tale that she wasn't jumping around crazily but organizing her pillows. And she somehow, rather than flinging herself off the bed, was SHOT off the bed by the force of nature that is her 'shiny' as she tried to cover herself with it. I nodded, told her I was sorry for what happened and covered her up and left the room and laughed and I have not stopped.

For all the drama we deal with as parents, and for the long nights trying to get them into bed I've learned that sometimes we are returned with just a tiny karmic gift. And next time I find myself exhausted, and frustrated because she has to go to the bathroom for the 3rd time, or needs another drink of water, I am going to remember this moment of her dangling, panic stricken, upside down, by one arm, looking at me as if I am the one person that can save her from death and I'll get through it.

The Tooth Fairy paid us a visit...

2011-04-11T15:59:00.001-07:00

Yesterday morning on the way to work, I missed a phone call. Whether I was still half asleep or the radio was so loud I didn't hear it, it wasn't until I pulled into the parking lot at work that I saw 'missed call - home'.

Of course I panic, I wonder if I forgot something like my computer which I frequently do. Or maybe, one of the kids is sick and Sean needs me to turn around and come home, or maybe Alex's library book is missing and she won't go to the bus until she finds it.

Not this time. When I called back, Alex answered.

"Hi Mom, I lost my tooth"

I grinned ear to ear and cried a little. My baby girl lost her first tooth. I mean, it's no surprise the thing has been dangling by a thread for days but somehow that didn't make it any easier. It's a milestone I'll never get back with her, her smile will never be the same. Her tiny little straight teeth no longer. And again, like many of her firsts, I missed it.

I'm not gonna lie, I'm also afraid. Very afraid. Afraid, that what will come in from beneath her cute little baby teeth will be something similar to mine. Large, crooked, and bucked teeth that took years and years of my parents time and hard earned money to give me the straight toothed smile I have today. We've started college funds for the kids, but not until today did I think we maybe should have started braces funds as well.

As a result, last night was my first chance to play 'tooth fairy'. I took it very seriously. I made a special trip to the coffee cart in my building to break a $10 bill. After the kids went to bed I wrote out on special paper a note from the tooth fairy complete with scalloped cut edges, and a fairy sticker. After a lengthy argument with Sean regarding the $5 (he wanted to trade it out with a buck and I sternly objected and argued that inflation is real and and important consideration) I placed the note with the $5 bill under my sleeping princesses pillow and tip toed out.

This morning she came running into our room to say, "Mom, the tooth fairy came. She used my craft paper and my special scissors and stole one of my stickers. Are you sure she didn't get the $5 out of your purse?"

And like so many things I try so hard to do 110%, I may have blown the tooth fairy's cover on the first lost tooth of my first born child.

Earthquake Preparedness: 101

2011-03-18T08:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, at my quarterly work meeting I had the incredible honor and privilege of hearing a co-worker who endured and survived the recent Japan earthquake speak.

It was riveting to say the least. To hear his story, and what he went through was life changing. For him to recount the excruciatingly long 5+ minutes he endured on the 30th floor of an office building was heart wrenching. 'I reached for my phone from under the table, but could not type', 'The buildings were swaying and in opposite directions', 'I thought this was the end', 'Millions of people in the streets with nowhere to go', 'people stuck and terrified in the monorails'.

It's hard to imagine from way over here the true devastation. We watch news clips and we pray that the destruction will stop. We hope that people eventually reach their loved ones that are still missing. We feel helpless. We feel grateful it's not us and fear that someday it will be.

There is no denying that Portland and the rest of the west coast is at risk for such a catastrophic event and in times like this when I have no other way to help I write.

Over the course of the week I've listened to various news and radio programs, I've read blogs on earthquake safety and preparedness. I heard a co-worker explain what got him through and so I've decided to write down my findings first and foremost to organize the items I plan to gather together but also in hopes that my friends and family may find it helpful and god forbid we ever find ourselves in this horrific situation we are prepared, as best we can be. If nothing else, It just makes me feel better to know I've done what I can.

Before an Earthquake

1. I think the biggest fear people have (or at least mine) is to be at work and away from their children. Or, to not be able to reach friends and family. My co-worker that spoke explained that he was neither able to text or phone his wife for some time. However, he was able to Facebook and Twitter to his loved ones. He used this means for days to communicate. So if you currently boo the social network, use this as a reason to at least sign up in case you need it as a form of communication. It is recommended that your family identify an out of state contact to reach and keep tabs on everyone as it is easier to call out on external lines than local ones. Also, identify a meeting place if your family lives close.

2. Most of us plug our phones into electric wall chargers. In an earthquake, the power may go out so look into battery packs and external charges for your cell phone or computers.

3. Generators can be used to temporarily restore electricity to your home. They are fairly inexpensive for a smaller one and could prove useful for any natural disaster.

4. Bolt down and secure heavy objects in your house. This includes water heaters, refrigerators, furnaces, and gas appliances. Fasten shelves, bookcases, mirrors, and brace high and top heavy objects such as armoire's to wall studs.

5. Locate and identify safe spots in each of the rooms in your home. For those that have children include them in this process. Safe spots include under heavy tables or against an inside wall, and away from windows.

6. Store at least 3 days of food and water for your family. 2 quarts of water per day per person. Children, nursing mothers, and the elderly may need more. Change this water supply every 6 months. Keep liquid bleach on hand to kill micro-organisms if you have to use untreated or contaminated water. 16 drops per 1 gallon of water and let stand for 30 minutes. Ready to eat canned meats, fruits, vegetables, high energy foods such as peanut butter, jelly, crackers, granola bars, trail mix; foods that will not increase thirst. Vitamins, foods for infants and elderly with special dietary needs. Comfort/Stress foods: cookies, hard candy, sweetened cereals, lollipops, instant coffee, tea bags. Pet Food, at least one ounce per animal pound per day. Avoid foods like rice, pasta and dry beans that require a great deal of water and remember to restock your food once a year.

7. Ensure you have a collection of medical supplies: sterile bandages, safety pins, cleansing agent (soap) latex globes, sunscreen, gauze pads. Non prescription drugs such as pain relievers, Antacid, Syrup of Ipecac (used to induce vomiting), scissors, tweezers, needle, moistened towelettes, antiseptic, thermometer, and tube of petroleum jelly.

8. Supplies to keep on hand: paper cups, plastic plates and utensils. Battery operated radio and batters, cash or travelers checks in case banks are closed, non electric can opener or utility knife, fire extinguisher, pliers, tape (duct tape actually keeps toxins out of your home), matches in waterproof container, aluminum foil, signal flair, paper/pencil, needles/thread, medicine dropper and a wrench to turn off gas and water.

9. Have sturdy shoes or work boots, rain gear, blankets and sleeping bags and warm clothing on hand.

10. Make sure all critical documents including will, insurance policies, contracts, deeds, stocks and bonds, passports, social security cards, immunization records, bank account numbers and family records such as (birth, marriage, death certificates) are in a central location if not kept in a safe.

During an Earthquake

1. If indoors, take cover under a sturdy desk, table, or bench or against an inside wall. Stay away from glass, windows, outside doors and walls or anything that can fall such as light fixtures or furniture. If in bed, stay there and protect your head with a pillow. Use a doorway for shelter only if it is in close proximity. Stay inside until shaking stops and it is safe to go outside. Most injuries occur when people are hit by falling objects when entering or exiting a building. DO NOT USE ELEVATORS.

2. If outdoors, STAY THERE. Move away from buildings, streetlights, and utility wires.

3. If in a moving vehicle stop as quickly as safety permits and stay in vehicle. Avoid stopping near or under buildings, trees, overpasses and utility wires.

4. If trapped under debris, do not light a match. Do not move about or kick up dust. Cover your mouth with a handkerchief or clothing.

After an Earthquake

1. Be prepared for aftershocks.

2. Open cabinets cautiously and stay away from damaged areas.

3. Beware of tsunamis if you live in coastal areas.

I'm quite aware that this is a depressing and scary concept to grasp. Nothing sounds more depressing than spending time putting together disaster relief kits for your family. For me, I'm making this a priority to ensure that worst case we find ourselves in this position? I've done what I can to protect my children, my family and have communicated a plan with them in how to reach each other. Because the most important thing to me would be the peace of mind that my loved ones are safe, and alive.

I'm sending constant prayers to Japan and all the people there and hoping for an imminent stop to the continued devastation, every day, every hour, every minute.

7 years Ago

2011-03-02T07:23:00.000-08:00

This not for the faint of heart or for those who have not yet had children; are still considering it, but have doubts.

It never ceases to amaze me how life can so quickly and abruptly change. My mom has told me several times in the last year that your life can COMPLETELY change in 7 years. If you look back 7 years, where did you live? Did you have a different job? Were you single where now you're not? Were you childless and now run ragged by little people?

Last week I had a day that made me roll my eyes, it made me shudder, it made me gag, and near the end when I thought I couldn't take anymore it made me laugh. Of course all of this occurred on the busiest day of my work month, it always does. Like clock work.

7 years ago, I may have woken up to the sound of my alarm clock. I'd hop in the shower, get ready for work, and head downstairs to gather my neatly packed lunch. The coffee would already be brewing because I would have started it the night before and set the timer. It would have taken me 3 minutes to get dressed as I'd have ironed and laid out my clothes the night before. Today, I wake up to a curly headed, bad breathed 3 1/2 year old standing at the edge of my bed who 'wants to go downshtairs and have cheerios'. On the way down, I find my other curly headed 5 year old perched on the toilet mumbling in her half asleep gibberish that she's out of toilet paper and she's so tired, 'can I wipe her?'.

7 years ago, I would have spent 2 hours on a Sunday doing our laundry. 2 maybe three loads including towels. Today, I spend practically my whole life running laundry for four. It's an EVERYDAY deal. If I'm not starting it, I'm changing it, or folding it or putting it away and regardless of all that there is always 3 full laundry baskets at the top of my stairs. So I wear the jeans I wore 2 days ago, and the sweater I think I wore Friday and hope nobody notices.

7 years ago, I would have kissed Sean goodbye, and said 'Have a good day'. We may have talked about our schedules for the day and I may have tidied up the house before leaving, ensuring that when I get home, it's just as I like it. Today, I don't directly say goodbye to Sean or talk to him at all because a)I'm late, and b)I've kissed two milk mustache ridden tiny humans and don't want to leave a mark. I do however overhear him explaining to Ian what a 'wedgie' is. 'It's kind of when your undies get stuck in your Heine', he says. 7 years ago, Sean would never EVER have used the words 'undies' or 'heine'. I trip over a trail of toy cars on the way out the door and shut the door to the train wreck that is my house and I'm off to work.

7 years ago, I would have driven to work in my fast and powerful Red Honda Prelude. The car would be glistening because I would have washed it over the weekend and vacuumed it out within the last month. I LOVED THAT CAR. Today, I drive in a FILTHY, rotten cheerio ridden, art project infested MDX (WHICH I LOVE) but let's face it. It's a minivan without the sliding doors. I throw my target bag filled with some (well thought out and planned) lunch items like Gogurts and string cheese onto the passenger seat, pull down the mirror to check my face and then I spend the next 20 minutes driving to work and wondering why I look so weird.

Halfway there it hits me. I've forgotten Mascara. On one of my eyes.

7 years ago, I would have worked late. Put in close to 10 hours because hey...Sean is in grad school and what else am I going to do? Today, I get a phone call at 2:30 that Ian is sick and has thrown up on his nap blanket. So I leave EARLY. I take him home and find the dog has thrown up in my hallway. 7 years ago I never had to clean up vomit.

7 years ago I'd go home and I can't for the life of me remember what I did. I may have, I don't know...RELAXED? Kicked my feet up? Taken a load off? I would probably make ONE healthful dinner for the two of us, watch a show or two and be in bed by 9. Today, I go home and start my second job of making 2 variations of dinner, wash other people's bodies, read books, organize homework, pack the kids lunch and sit down for the first time somewhere around 9.

Don't get me wrong. I love being a mom. I love my kids more than life, and if I could I would not go back to 7 years ago. Well, I take that back. Most Days I would not go back. But I do admit on days such as these I wonder how I got here. How in 7 years my standards, my life, and the cleanliness of which I live in has so drastically been compromised.

Sometimes I just laugh as I look back over the past 7 years. I think back to Sean and I planning our family and what we thought that would mean for us. We never imagined our kids would break our noses and give us black eyes. We never thought we'd be patching walls from slamming doors and settle for hot dogs and mac and cheese on a Saturday night. You would never imagine that the times in which you work best together or support each other would be when your kids are sick and throwing up all over the place. I mean, what High School 'captain of the football team' would ever stand up and confess that one day he'll use the words 'Undies' and 'Heine' in front of his kids to prevent 'potty word' talks with teachers at school. If someone told me that having kids meant going to work with half your makeup on, I may have re-considered.

My mom tells me many wise things that maybe 7 years ago I would not have listened to. But now, when she says 'you will one day look back on this moment and laugh and then be sad at how time has flown' I believe her. Because although most of these last 7 years have been the hardest in my life, they have been the best too. And 7 years from now, I know that I will not have a tiny, brown toothed little fellow who can't pronounce his s's at my bedside needing me to make him breakfast. Unless of course, one day Sean changes his mind on having another bambino. I guess 7 years will tell...

If you're looking for sunshine, look away. LOOK AWAY!

2011-02-03T12:41:00.000-08:00

I literally cannot stop shaking my head. Left, right, left, right....I shrug. I look around as if something somewhere is going to give me SOME clue on how to get through. Or maybe, if I tilt my head and squint my eyes everything will become clear. Like, what did I do to deserve some catastrophic dose of karma?

I'm being dramatic. At least it will appear that way to anyone reading who isn't me today. And maybe even tomorrow when I'm hopefully not on the brink of snapping like a frayed rubber band I'll say, 'Jeez Carrie, what a drama queen'. But not today. I am allowing myself these 10 minutes of self pity. PURE SELF PITY. Because I fear, if I don't write this out I may eat the tub of leftover Halloween candy that (YES) is still tucked away in the pantry.

I'm here because for the last 5 hours, I've been either shielding myself and my work laptop from flying tinker toys or chasing around a 3 year old pink eye infested bundle of energy trying to get one drop of antibiotic in each eye without him squinting or crying them out in a horrible flailing fit.

Let's go back.

Yesterday was Day 2 of close. For all non-finance or accounting nerds, this is that crucial time of the month. That deadline infested, balancing act of a time where on Day 2 in particular I have to squeeze around 15 hours of work into 8. Or 10 if I'm lucky to have Sean available to pick up the kids. Well, yesterday was one of those unlucky days where I needed to do it in 8. And hahahahahahahahahaha. Didn't happen.

Of course I went in with every intention of rock starring it out, but as the hours ticked by (faster than normal) and by noon I was sweating. I was WAY behind. All those little things that can hold things up happened. And when I panic, I make stupid little mistakes that take extra time. And at 3, when I knew I was in trouble the head shaking started. And then the phone rang.

RING RING

Me: 'This is Carrie'

Daycare Employee: 'Hello, Carrie. This is _____ from Ian's School. He just woke up from nap and we are all pretty confident he has pink eye in both eyes.'

Me: 'Well, that's interesting. I imagine you need me to pick him up asap and he probably can't return to school until Friday' (thinking internally that OMG I have to leave early on day 2 and stay home on day 3) HEAD SHAKE HEAD SHAKE.

Daycare Employee: 'Yes, that's right. I'm sorry but pink eye is highly contagious. I'll keep him here with me at my desk until you arrive.'

I gather my belongings, grab my computer and against better judgement refrain from hitting the restroom before I leave and head out. Fast forward to 1 hour and 45 minutes later to me, STILL ON MY WAY TO GET IAN as I sit on I-5 and crawl towards a looming over-turned semi with a painful reminder that not using the restroom was by far the worst possible mistake I've ever made, ever.

It's now 5 o'clock. I'm across town and late to pick up Alex and I still have to stop at the pharmacy and I'm still SHAKING. MY. HEAD.

With Sean tied up at work until 10 there was no hope for me starting any work until the kids were in bed. Well, until the kids were in bed and they got out of bed and back into bed and out of bed and back into bed because, why wouldn't they? This was the PUNISH CARRIE FOR SOMETHING SHE HAS NO IDEA WHAT SHE DID DAY.

Fast forward to today.

Despite staying up until midnight to complete work, and getting an early start this morning I am floundering. How does one complete work with a child bouncing from couch to chair screaming, 'Mom-let's play', 'Mom-I need a snack', 'Mom-I just poo'd, can you wipe me?' HEAD SHAKE HEAD SHAKE.

I sit here with a pile of work to do, in a FILTHY house lacking enough of anything to make dinner tonight, and a load of laundry rotting in the washer since Tuesday. It becomes apparent to me that 5 years later, I'm still trying to figure out this 'working mom' thing. What I've learned is, it's possible as long as I give in to the entire core of my being. That tiny disappearing core that thrives on order, and cleanliness and productivity. That core of me that likes to give things 110% is sort of flat lined at maybe 50%. I've learned that you really only can spread yourself so thin and today, like that last little scraping from the peanut butter jar you hit a point where it's just gone.

So now, if you will excuse me I will put closure on this pity party and head off to find the antibiotic drops Ian has hidden from me because my eyes are now red and burning. But not before I leave you with a photo. You got to love him right?

Sidenote: the black front tooth is not a symptom of 'pink eye'. It is indeed a black tooth from a nasty face bump on a tunnel slide. Root canal to follow next week. HEAD SHAKE HEAD SHAKE.

Love.

2011-01-19T16:19:00.000-08:00

You're in the 5th grade and you repeatedly trace the name of the boy to your left into your peechie folder. And you think you know what love is.

You dance with your highschool sweetheart at Prom, and you think you know what love is.

You meet the person you're going to marry and you're well on your way to knowing what love is.

You watch the person you marry, hold their first child. And now you can see what love is.

And then one day, you sit down with your two kids at a dirty table in red robin and you glance over to find them snuggled up to that person you married and love does not begin to explain it.

Two Months in a Nutshell, a REALLY BIG NUTSHELL.

2011-01-19T12:19:00.000-08:00

Well.

I'm not sure where to begin, and part of me, the 'always wanting to be on top of things' part of me wants to go back and thoroughly document all the amazing moments since my last post. Yet, the same part of me knows it's just not going to happen so we are going to abbreviate. HIGHLIGHTS:

**In October, we had an amazing visit from Sean's brother, sister, and brother's super awesome girlfriend that we got to meet for the first time. We had a lot of fun hanging out, playing a rousing game of Cranium, heading out for dinner, and showing them a bit of our beloved P-Town.

**Beginning December 5th, I celebrated my 10 year anniversary with Nike. What do you get for working a consecutive 10 years at Nike you ask? A 5 week sabbatical people. Five freaking fantastic weeks with NO ALARM CLOCK. I can't quite describe in words what this time off meant to me. It was a gift that I'm still (after two weeks back to work) trying not to squash because the transition back has been nothing short of hard. It's like waking up from an hour long facial by way of a swift slap to the face if I'm being honest. And I'm still holding my cheek going, WTF?

**As a gift to myself and my poor enduring husband who puts up with my foulness 9 months of the rainy, cold and dreary year we kicked off my sabbatical with a trip to Hawaii. We traveled bravely with our good friends and their two kids for an 8 person week of fun in sunny Maui. It was fantastic, it would have been more fantastic had 4 of the 8 not acquired the stomach flu during our stay but we made the best of it. Better to be sick in Hawaii, right? I'd love to post an entire book on our fun there and maybe someday I will but my emotional state is too fragile to go to that happy place for fear of drowning in a sea of self pity that it's over, and the next time I feel warmth is still 5 months away. Side note: Last week I was upset with Sean for calling me 'dramatic'. I intend to apologize for that this evening.

**The next 4 weeks are a blur. What I do know, is I spent them doing what I wanted. I made no commitments to people. I planned no more than 24 hours in advance and I did what I usually DON'T get to do and that is be the mom I've always wanted. I played with my kids, I baked Christmas cookies (they were terrible, but so), I had play dates and got on the floor to build airplanes with tinker toys and dress barbies. I did laundry and grocery shopped on weekdays which left time on the weekends for good quality family time. I allowed people into my home without the intense embarrassment and shame I feel over the tornado path that is usually our abode. We attended some Blazer games, and had dinner with friends. And for the first time in years, I did not end each day with a headache and neck pain.

**We had a very memorable and relaxed Christmas. There is nothing like some good quality family time to bring perspective to what is important in life.

**A final highlight for me was hammering out some unfinished projects around the house. I started the massive project of remodeling our master bathroom. I organized and re-painted the kid's playroom and did artsy fartsy crafty sorts of things that my mind and body crave on a daily basis.

**Last but not least, I died my hair red. Drastic, yes. Platinum blonde to Auburn'y brown Red. Jury is still out on whether it will stick around. I still shock myself when I look in the mirror and wonder where the heck I am, but something deep inside was begging for change. So I changed.

And now? It's all over. Reality is here and I miss my kids something FIERCE. It's like the first weeks you leave your kids at daycare when returning to work after maternity leave. I know this feeling. And I know it will subside with time, but I'm not gonna lie. IT SUCKS.

The good news is, in 5 years time I'll have another 5 weeks off that I'll kick off with a public burning of my jerk of an alarm clock and maybe at that time I'll finish the war zone that is our bathroom. Here's hoping I make it...

All I want for Christmas is...

2010-11-15T18:03:00.000-08:00

I thought it would be fun, to sit down with the kids and write out their Christmas lists together. Thanks to Target, who sent out their gift catalog a few weeks back, I've been hearing these things for days and days and days. SO. I thought it could be fun to take turns asking them back and forth items they want to write on their list this year to see if they fed off each others wants. Turns out, they did.

Dear Santa,

A: American Girl Doll (Lanie) and her clothes. Let me add that she wants this a)from Santa and b)it's astronomically priced and c)when I told her that Santa could only give each child one gift she said she promises the rest will be 'cheap'. I'm currently in negotiations with Santa to splurge for the American Girl Doll, or buy her the knockoff from Costco for $80 less.

I: Woody (Toy Story)

A: Jesse (Toy Story) and Bullseye (no idea who that is)

I: "I waaaaaaannnt Golf Clubs. Big golf clubs and I can swing dem weary hawrd!" It's already in the bag, pun intended.

A: Art Supplies, painting, and coloring book

I: A Buzz Bike with the backpack

A: A two wheel scooter. Apparently, her 3 wheeled scooter is so last year.

I: Pet Giraffe. I did not tell him how unlikely that was. But tomorrow he will have surely forgotten.

A: "I want a Barbie a house, but don't write it down! Nanna is going to get it"

I: Ian stammers, asks what Santa can make. Alex tells him ANYTHING HE WANTS. He can think of nothing. Except Santa Clause has a big mustache.

A: Toy purse (?)

I: " I like Yeggos (Lego's) but not the BIG KIND", he screams. Because those are for babies?

A: Zoobs. I tell Alex I have NO idea what that is and she tells me to google it. TIMES ARE CRAZY. My 5 year old is telling me to google it. So I do and learn it's some 21st century Lego contraption, or something.

I: Ian has lost interest and left the room.

A: New Jammie's

Now I ask the big time question, 'What do you have to do for Santa to bring you something from your list'.

A: Stay in your bed

I: Say Please

I then proceeded to intitated the 'It's close enough to Christmas to start using Santa as collateral' window and after they started a pillow fight across my lap threatened to end the typing with a 'JUST KIDDING SANTA, we've been bad girls and boys.'

The fighting stopped.

For that and other reasons, like it's now socially acceptable to watch National Lampoons Christmas vacation and eat candy canes, I love this time of year. If only the sun was shining and and the days were not just 6 hours long. Which leads me to my list for Santa: DAYLIGHT. Or, a sun lamp and a lifetime supply of Vitamin D.

Final Score: 1-0 PARENTS. Good one Carrie, good one.

2010-10-28T13:19:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have one of those days (or in my case, one of those weeks) where you find yourself literally throwing your hands up in the air like, 'C'MON WORLD', or shaking your head incessantly at the level of stupidity you encounter? Even if it's your own?

If not, good for you. If so, you may appreciate the following moments of near insanity I encountered this week.

1. I witnessed a nose-picking woman almost rear-end the car in front of her because surely the back of her hand was blocking her view. When she did what everyone does and quickly spun her head in 360 degrees to see who saw her, I made glaring eye contact with her and held it for as long as I possibly could before I put myself at risk for rear ending someone as well. Pick your nose at home, just because you're within your car does not mean people can't see you. And why is cell phone usage prohibited but nose picking is not?

2. I burned a hole in my new black patent leather work shoes on the space heater I rely on for warmth and the will to live for 8 hours a day. Also, I may have burned my foot a little too.

3. I participated in an impromptu scrimmage with Alex's soccer team at their last practice IN my burnt patent leather work shoes where I (way too competitive I'm learning) scored the only goal and had to HOLD MYSELF BACK to score 10 more. Nice, parents win 1-0. Why did I never get the memo that you should always let the kids win? Raised eyebrows and looks of disappointment from other parents, DULY NOTED.

4. Alex's soccer pictures came back with MY name all over the trading cards and team photo. Maybe it was a fluke? Or maybe the universe is playing a dirty trick on me for single handedly beating six 5 year olds in 3 on 3, no goalie soccer. I'm relying on the hope that it was an error on THEIR behalf and that I did not fill the form out incorrectly. HEAD SHAKE HEAD SHAKE.

In other news, for those of you concerned, I have an Alex update to follow up my last post where I described her as a crazy, exorcist needing lunatic. She is none of those things, and is actually doing much better. She's turned a corner mostly I believe in desperation for the pillow pet of her choice if she can keep up the positive attitude. It's working, for now.

Her and I had a series of funny exchanges yesterday on the way home from soccer practice that had me repeating the conversation into my iPhone voice memo recorder. Thank goodness for that, or I'd never remember a thing. They went a little something like this:

Alex: Mom, why do we salute the flag each morning?

I went into a long drawn out speech about America, the land of the free, the home of the brave. And how despite what she hears on whatever news show we may be listening to we do live in a wonderful country where we can do (within reason) whatever we please (as long as it is within the law and not violating any traffic signs). I told her that it is not the case for all countries. So we salute our flag and give honor to all those that keep us free.

Alex: So, in like...India. Can they drive when they want? Or do they have to ask the Police?

Me: Uhhhhhh

Alex: And, do they have cars? Or do they ride camels? Wait, they must walk and drive sand bikes because there is a lot of sand over there.

Sand bikes?

Before I had a chance to answer she jumps into...

Alex: Mom, is Nanna gonna love the play-doh thing I made her?

Me: Yes, she loves everything that you make her.

Alex: Yes, Nanna's love everything and everybody. Even grandsons.

And this time I throw my hands up and thank god for her, because she is just cooler than Bee's Knee's, or whatever the saying is.

Me: Alex, I love you. (I glance in my rearview mirror to find her picking her nose) And in America, picking your nose is not allowed. Especially in cars.

I know that she won't be driving for 11 more years, but who knows. Maybe I just saved a life.

Heebie Jeebies: A feeling of minor fright, anxiety, nervousness, apprehension, 'the willies'.

2010-10-22T08:53:00.001-07:00

I think we all have something, maybe multiple somethings that send shivers up our spine. The sight of something invokes a physical reaction to our bodies and the feeling can stick with us for hours.

For my mom, it's things with crevices. Anything bulbous (like insect egg sacks), or with holes (like a beehive) will send her in a panic, she'll look away, she'll shudder. My sister is the same. A good friend of mine has an overwhelming fear of spiders, and Alex hates the dark. Sean has a fear of heights. One of my best girlfriends from high school will gag at the sight of soggy bread in the sink.

I have several things that give me the heebie jeebies:

1. Toothbrushes touching in a toothbrush holder
2. The sound of Dogs licking themselves
3. Giant spiders, the ones that crunch when you smash them
4. I'm ashamed to admit this, and I'm not proud...but Midgets.
5. Sitting down on a warm seat, that wasn't warmed by me
6. Hearing the words 'slacks' or 'moist'.

*There are more, but I'll spare you my weirdness.

And last night, my list grew.

Alex insisted her babies sleep ALL TOGETHER, in my room, 1.5 feet from my bed in this over-crowded formation. Their eyes are all open people. God bless Gabriella (lower right) who turned her head away. She was my best doll as a child, after 28 years she still treats me right.

So what are YOU afraid of?

I love her so much, even though...

2010-10-08T13:28:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my mom said to me, 'I wish all of your kids had the temperment of Ian'. And I laughed, because 1)I only have two kids so 'all' means Alex & Ian and excluding Ian leaves Alex. ha. 2)I think this a few times each day and 3)I'm sure having two kids with Ian's temperment would go against the universal rule that parents should somehow pay for the torture they inflicted on their parents as a kid.

My reponse to my mom? 'I owe you a huge apology'. And she knew exactly what for.

I apologized for years and years of the verbal abuse I inflicted upon my parents as a kid, albeit much older (like ten) but still. Payback is a bitch.

These days, Alex is giving us a run for our money. In the spirit of 'keeping it real' (a post I've not been brave enough to publish yet), I'm going to document some not so glamorous events that frequently occur in the Kolmer house.

Our princess, a mere five years old is showing signs of what could be a very challenging period ahead commonly known as the tween and teen years.

At the drop of a hat, or at the word 'no', or really for no reason inparticular Alex spouts fits of rage. These are her most common sayings when things don't go 'just so'.

I ALWAYS HAVE BAD DAYS

NO!

I DON'T LIKE YOU ANYMORE

YOU'RE BAD!

I AM NOT PART OF THIS FAMILY

Or, my favorite: a loud and husky grunt followed by arms crossed, lips turned out and eyes that could burn your soul.

Drama much?

If she's NOT yelling, she's stomping her feet, pounding the stairs or in the case of yesterday knocking over a living room chair because I said she could not have her 4th snack of the afternoon. If only our problems were so menial, and if only we could react this way when we are frustrated.

I attribute this to a nasty combination of my emotional-ness, and from what I hear, Sean's anger spouts as a child. Mix this with a dose of Taurus, a small case of over-tired from long school days and soccer practice and you get lil Miss Maniac.

I've said it for years, parenting is EASY when all you are doing is caring for physical needs. Feeding, diapering, clothing, and bathing is EASY compared to the emotional drain of molding one's child into a nice little human.

I'm on the verge of calling a therapist, or an exorcist?

Luckily, Sean is much better at dealing with her fits of rage. In some strange father/daughter Taurus bond they understand each other. And rather than standing there, shocked, mouth agape, he's able to respond in a much more productive and consistent manner than this here 'my feelings are hurt, my daughter hates me' kind of way.

I'm hoping it's just a stage, or that it's the result of a lot of recent changes in her life. I'm hoping that the next 10-15 years are not as challenging as the last month has been. Because if they are, I'll be writing these posts from a barred looney bin.

Here's hoping insane asylums have internet access.

In all seriousness, I've shed many tears over this as of late and questioned my parental skills. I've been seeking validation from Sean and my Mom that I'm doing things right and this is just a stage. It's just a stage, it's just a stage, it's just a stage. Saying things three times makes it true right?

On the bright side, Alex is thriving in school and kicking butt on the soccer field. She's much stronger, confident and assertive that I thought she'd be in the 'competitive kind of way' and I'm so proud of her. She has grown emotionally so much over the past year and we have mostly good moments where she is loving, and sweet, and non-psychotic. That, or I've already gone nuts.

The next Mia Hamm...

2010-09-28T10:24:00.001-07:00

Alex started soccer this year. To my surprise, she loves it and looks forward to each practice and game. This last Saturday Sean and I couldn't make the game due to prep for a family party and for Sean, GOLF. And unfortunately, we missed her first goal of the season.

Luckily, my grandma got to witness it and my lovely co-workers who's son is also on the team caught this video and sent it to me.

Click HERE if you want to see the most amazing goal ever.

Thank god for them, this video, and all the cheers they shouted for her while we weren't there.

Conversations with little people...

2010-08-25T20:48:00.000-07:00

M: Alex, what's your favorite thing about soccer?
A: My outfit.

M: Ian, where is this whiny voice coming from all of a sudden?
I: My mouth.

M: Ian, are you so excited to start your new school?
I: No, my new friends will wreck my buildings, step on my toes, and scratch my butt.

A: Mom, when will I need to wear one of those 'booby things' (bra)?

M: Not for awhile, when your older like me.

A: You mean when my butt gets bigger and I need to wear hats?

M: Yes, I guess so.

M: Alex, tell me your favorite thing about Kindergarten.

A: I had two recesses

M: Did you meet any new friends?

A: Yes, five of them.

M: What are their names?

A: I have no idea.

M: You should ask them tomorrow and start by saying, "My name is Alex, what is your name?" because they probably want to know your name too.

A: There is no talking when the teacher is talking.

M: That is good attention to the rules, maybe you could ask at one of your recess breaks.

A: That's when I swing.

M: Well okay, suit yourself and have nameless friends.

A: We don't need to know names, we just play.

M: Ian, eat your dinner

I: I can't, my tummy is up to here (he puts his hand on his forehead).

M: Well, that is too bad. If your tummy is up to your forehead than you have no room for a Popsicle.

I: But my leg hurts.

(A brief pause)

I: I think my tummy is only up to here (he puts his hand on his thigh) and there is room for Popsicle in my foot.

M: Then you should have room for dinner.

I: My leg hurts.

Blog Backlog #4: Black Butte 2010

2010-08-17T11:32:00.001-07:00

Where once there were two, now there are many. It always blows my mind that one person, or the combination of two can create an entire family. That because two amazing people find love, people are created and those people find love and create their own little people and it grows and grows and grows. And now that I'm getting all existential and weird on you, I'll show you this:

And now I'll say this: The woman in the middle, to the upper left of me is 50% responsible for everyone you see here. I'm grateful to this lovely matriarch each and every day, and this photo (although just a brief glimpse into the many many amazing memories I have with her) reminds me of the sheer gratitude I have for the love she shows to all of these people unconditionally and the joy she brings us and my own kids.

For the past two summers, we've been lucky enough to spend a week in Ocean City, NJ. This is the special place that Sean spent his childhood summers with his entire family. His grandparents, aunts/uncles, cousins, etc all gathered here for most of their lives and darn if I don't feel privileged to get the opportunity to share that with him and watch him share that experience with our kids.

This year, we decided to spend our summer vacation at MY childhood vacation spot, Black Butte, OR. This place holds so many memories for my family and extended family. We've spent countless weeks here biking, swimming, playing tennis, poker, golf and just enjoying each others company.

This was the first year that my grandfather was not there with us which was hard and different. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel like something was missing. However, it was the first year in which I got to see the kids doing what I did at their ages. To see this trip through their eyes was nostalgic, and heart warming.

It was definitely a different 'vacation' than I remember as a child. Vacations with children are hardly 'vacations' but parenting at a different location. It's still work, and biking with children attached to your bike either in a trailer, infant seat or snap on bike prevented us from gallivanting around the ranch like banshees, and we didn't quiet get the same quality time with our childless cousins. Laying by the pool is more like, swimming IN the pool helping your kids learn to swim, and managing naps and odd sleeping arrangements is never easy but the week was still lovely nonetheless.

Sean golfed more times than I can count, I got to go twice and went horse back riding which was fun. The kids would have been happy spending all day everyday in the pool but they also enjoyed riding bikes and running around the golf course at night.

My hope is that one day, when our kids are grown they will remember these two places just like Sean and I do and that one day they take their own kids themselves. I hope that they too are as appreciative of the experiences they have been given as I am today and have a clear understanding that it is only those experiences and the people we share them with that matter.

If you know me at all, you know I took more than 200 photos of this trip and without the energy to pick through and post them all, you may view them all here.

Blog Backlog #3: Camping is Fun, FINALLY!

2010-08-17T11:31:00.002-07:00

Words cannot express the feeling of joy that Sean and I shared last month as we drove home from our first camping trip in more than 3 years.

I grew up camping. It's part of who I am. Getting dirty, eating dogs, and roasting marshmallows while trying not to burn our faces off with them are some of the fondest memories of my sisters and my childhood. So you can imagine my dismay and disappointment after taking Alex camping at the age of 18 months and vowing to never ever do it AGAIN, ever.

And anyone that has camped with children under 3 knows what I mean when I say it was not fun. It was all work, and suffering, and strife. And oh, miserable. Maybe also excruciatingly too much work.

Granted Alex was apparently coming down with the stomach flu and vomited profusely before we even had a chance to unpack which explains the whining, the crying, and the overall suckiness of her mood. HOWEVER, some other unfortunate events occurred during our shortened 2 day camping trip. They included an infestation of ants, a blown away tent, a major (okay not so major) fall into a pot of beans (done by my sister), the failure to insert the pin into the back of the trailer causing all camping gear to fall out onto a dusty and bumpy road in the middle of a thunder & lightning storm, and...well, that's probably enough to give you a good mental picture. Wait, did I say that when we finally arrived home at 11 pm after bugging out early our garage door broke and went slamming into the ground? Oh, I didn't? Well, it did. And it's still broken.

So, words cannot express the feeling of joy that Sean and I shared last month as we drove home from our first camping trip in more than 3 years.

So what was so different this time you ask blogosphere? Well aside from all of the above NOT HAPPENING, except for the ant infestation which we cleared up by throwing all of our scraps way over there (and by golly the ants went way over there) the kids had a blast. We almost didn't have to parent them except to occasionally feed them and ask them to change their dirty clothes into some less dirty clothes. It was great.

We spent two lovely days on the boat, the kids swam, and Ian spent most likely 17 full hours digging in the dirt by the shore. Even Chip managed to mind his own business and made peace with nature. Sean managed a nap in the sun, and I spent many many hours floating on an air mattress.

We zipped around on wake boards, inner-tubes and Sean got a great kick out of surviving the biggest whip of his life and living to tell about it.

We had so much fun, we are going back for Labor Day and in celebration of our successful camping trip I bought a new tent which Sean swears the entire city of Tigard could fit in.
It has an actual door, and shelves, and a special hole to grab things out of your cooler right from your sleeping bag because apparently that's important in 21st century camping. I'm kind of ticked it doesn't have an iPhone charger overhead fan, but I'll survive.

Blog Backlog #2: Ode to Grammom

2010-08-17T11:31:00.001-07:00

It's unfortunate that we only see Sean's family once or maybe twice a year, there are many miles and many states that separate us but we manage to see them around the holidays and have spent the last two summers out East in Ocean City. This year, we had to forego our normal Jersey Shore trip for a few kept around here (more to come) but were lucky enough to have Sean's mom come spend a week with us recently.

This made Ian's birthday even more special this year. Not only did he have a personal fireworks display AND a custom Buzz Lightyear cake, but Grammom came and brought him his first big boy bike!

We had a great week spent galavanting around town. We...

Had a photo Session in the backyard.

Celebrated Ian's Birthday with a few close friends and family.

Went to the Portland Rose Garden.

Hit the Washington Park play structure.

Most importantly, I skipped work on a 95 degree day and we took the kids to Cannon Beach. It was a lovely day spent playing in the sand, basking in the sun, and eating giant ice cream cones.

It was an awesome week and we can't wait to have her again. Until next time Grammom! We had a blast!

I interrupt my previously scheduled blog catch up posts for this special announcement.

2010-08-17T08:01:00.001-07:00

No, I'm not pregnant, we are not moving to Belize, and so far the lottery has not been good to me. So stop that.

The big announcement is that I almost killed my son last night and then proceeded to save his life. No joke.

As a mother, I spend the majority of my time worrying. I see injuries moments before they happen, I have visions of TERRIBLE things happening. For example, I rarely walk down stairs with a child in my arms without envisioning them flailing from my grasp and falling over the railing, psycho I know.

Yesterday, as I tried to keep the kids occupied AND clean the house AND do laundry, AND mow the yard I offered to pay the kids each ONE DOLLAR if they'd help water my dying, moisture starved and neglected plants in the back yard.

They were happy to oblige, and were quite proud of the four shiny quarters I gave each of them. Ian was so proud of them, he carried them to bed for his nap and tucked them in right next to his favorite blanket buddy.

Big time foul.

I figured after a busy day, a run to Alex's first soccer practice, dinner with some friends, and an evening visit from our babysitter who is leaving for college today (sniff sniff) that the kids would fall quickly asleep without a peep. So Sean and I raced downstairs to start the next episode of Weeds.

3 minutes in, I heard choking.

I ran upstairs to find Ian gasping for breath and choking. I reached down his throat and after many failed attempts finally grabbed hold of one shiny quarter lodged in his throat. He then proceeded to throw up his entire dinner, and cough up blood. Probably from me scraping his throat in a panicked attempt to remove the bastard quarter.

I felt fear, panic, responsibility, and gratefulness that I heard him.

By this time of course, Sean and Alex were there and 'mother hen' Alex proceeded to assure her brother that 'one time, I threw up cuz I had a bad cold and had to lay on the couch for a coupla days. You're gonna be ok bud', she said.

After we all calmed down and I was ready to release Ian from my grasp the kids hugged. Yes, they hugged and Ian said, 'dat makes me feel better'.

Twelve hours later, I'm 40% recovered from the experience and will now be paying the kids in crisp dollar bills. I'm pretty sure the whole shabang took 10 years off my life.

Blog Backlog #1: Ian Turns Three

2010-08-16T08:16:00.000-07:00

I'm now officially 'months' behind in this here 'baby book', life documentary, and reference manual. This diary I keep is important to me for many reasons but mostly so I don't forget a thing. As the years pass I am completely in awe of how quickly time ticks, how fast these kids change, and how easy it is to rush through life. I hope that one day this blog, when I'm old and senile and potentially crazy will remind me of the best years.

I can't believe my baby boy is 3. It feels like yesterday that Sean and I were looking into our backseat at one nappy headed fro child and imagining what it would be like with two kids. It also seems like yesterday that Ian was a baby and we were imagining life with a 2 and 4 year old. And now we have a 3 and 5 year old. Time flies. It's true what they say, that each child is so different. They have their own personality, demeanor, temperament, etc. My kids are no exception. Ian is independent but strong willed, when his sister is gone he will play quietly by himself which Alex has never and most likely will never do. He is sweet and cuddly, but opinionated. He loves his mom, is smart as a whip ( I think ) and is more athletically gifted than I've ever seen a child this age. In fact, he is HARASSING us for a set of his very own golf clubs. I'm 100% willing to invest the $89 its going to cost if one day he buys me a house, a car, and maybe a small island for my trouble. He is almost as dramatic as his sister and his first reaction to everything is an emotional one.

He's finally potty trained, and has had a great time exploring his manly rights of peeing wherever, whenever and however on a few recent camping trips. Or, when he's just playing in our yard.

We spent his birthday at home this year with some family and friends. Being that it was the 4th of July he felt like the entire fireworks display was in honor of him. The Buzz Lightyear cake, a special visit from Grammom, and more gifts than he thought possible was the icing on the cake (pun intended).

He still has an imaginary friend named James, and is into Tom & Jerry and Scooby Doo on the tube. He loves Tinker Toys and anything you can build with and is rarely found without his plethora of security items including his infant blankies, 'dog', 'buddy', and his most recent stuffed toy named 'chip dog'. He's also rarely without one of his 4 Buzz Lightyear figurines, 'Big Buzz', 'Medium Buzz', 'Tiny Buzz', and just 'Buzz'.

When Alex was three, I asked her a series of questions. You can see them here. I decided to ask Ian the same questions in honor of his 3rd birthday to see just how this little fellow measures up.

What's your name? Ian Patrick Kolmer

How old are you? Free

What's your favorite color? BLUE!

What's your favorite book? hhhmmmm Star Wars

What's your favorite song? After no answer, Caden whispers into his ear that it's 'transformers' but I know that it's anything he can dance too or drum.

What's your favorite movie? Star Wars (although he's never seen it, he knows it to be true)

Television Show? Kung Fu Panda and Tom and Jerry

Who's your best friend? Caden.

* Caden than proceeds to say, 'C-A-D-E-N'. Just in case I wasn't sure how to spell it. Alex then sits frustrated that she is not his #1.

Favorite Smell? Corn Dog

What's your favorite kind of candy? Chocolate

Favorite Sound? Trees.

What's your favorite instrument? He is making a bunch of sounds, gibberish and squeaks so we will move on.

Favorite thing to do at school? Slide (same as Alex)

What's your favorite game? Candyland

Favorite Food? Bananas, Eyeballs (giggle giggle) and Peaches.

Favorite thing to drink? Juice

What's your favorite animal? Giraffe

What's your favorite thing to do? Going on Pop Pop's boat

Where's your favorite place to go? On the boat

What's your favorite Toy? Buzz Lightyear

What's your favorite thing about Alex? Boys don't like Alex's. Did you know that?' He ends most of what he says with 'Did you know that?'

How old is Dad? 2

How old is Mommy? Free

What makes you happy? Buzz

What do you want to be when you grow up? A bad guy (oh sheesh)

Well, that's Ian in a nutshell. I can hardly wait for all the years to come with this guy but am enjoying this 3rd year the best so far. What a bundle of pure love he is.

Just a little list to take care of, that's all.

2010-07-21T15:48:00.000-07:00

It's that day of the week. It's the day I can feel things getting far too out of control. As each day of the week passes, I get a little more tired, a little more irritable, our house becomes a little more dirty, and my 'to do' list gets a little longer. I need the weekend.

Part of this is my fault. I dared to work out twice this week, and Sean and I are so addicted to the Showtime Drama 'Weeds', that we have been staying up FAR past our bedtime because clearly there is no way we can sleep if we don't know everything that's happened in the lovely town of Agrestic. And with that, we have given up daily tasks such as; dog walking, dish-doing, and laundry upkeep.

Basically, we make dinner. Give the kids 100% until exactly 8pm when we race them to bed so we can FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. Cuz, life depends on it.

We have some fun things planned this weekend, which has been consistent with most weekends this summer. So many fun things I've completely failed to do as I promised myself and BLOG BLOG BLOG about them all.

At this point, I don't know where to start. So instead of catching up, I'm proclaiming to myself and any of ya'll that read, it's coming. This is my list for the day and my goal is that by Monday it's allllll caught up.

Oh, and by the way I am not hopeful this will happen.

I need to write about Sean's mom visiting (which was oh so fun), and Ian's 3rd birthday, and our first official and successful camping trip.

The kids are sprouting right in front of me and there is so much to write down. And for some reason, it keeps me up at night that someday many many moons from now I will regret wholeheartedly not writing down the story about...

See? I already forgot.

Early this week I had at LEAST 5 funny stories and today I can remember none of them.

And I found a school for Ian, WHICH I AM THRILLED ABOUT, but I need to pick up the
registration packet and fill it out.

And the days before Alex goes to real school are few, and I have to buy school supplies before (so I hear) every store in a 90 mile radius is out of Elmers Glue.

And I need to arrange for somewhere for her to go before school and after school.

A group of thank you cards are smashed in my purse from Alex's birthday almost 3 months ago because I need to buy stamps.

And I have a list for Ian's birthday too.

I have three packages to mail, one for a birthday on July 3rd. (FAIL)

Our car's tags are expired.

I have no bread, fruit, vegetables, Popsicles or Gin in the house.

And Sean is out of clean white undershirts.

I need to buy a birthday gift.

The kids are due for dentist appointments, and the vet keeps sending cards that Chip is due for his vet check up. I thought you just took them in if they were sick or dying...apparently preventative care is big for pets now.

Not to mention, we leave on vacation next week which requires an entire list of it's own that results in a clean house, packed bags (which Sean will tell you takes me days, and days and days to complete), mail stopped, work caught up and covered, camera memory card cleared, and the purchase of a few necessary items.

I totally got this.

If I owe anybody money, or you can think of something I'm forgetting. Please send me an email at notgonnahappen@doityourself.com.

Thanks.

Picture me Rollin...

2010-06-30T10:25:00.000-07:00

I'd love to be talking about 2 Pac's 'picture me rollin' song from one of my all time favorite discs 'All Eyez on Me' ba dum-du dum....all eyez on me. Okay the song will be in my head for the rest of this live long day.

Instead, I'm asking you to picture me rollin two bikes, tangled in a dog leash with said dog attached to the end , while dragging a two year old by the arm, and nudging my 5 year old in the rear with my foot. Oh, and let's not forget the bag of dog crap I was carrying.

All of this because I decided I'd take the dog for a walk.

It was day 4 of Sean's 5 day work trip to Boston. It was also our 8th year anniversary and I was dragging myself through the motions of responsibility, one being Chips daily walk.

The kids were tired, and although they wanted to go, about 10 minutes away from the house they decided they were done riding their bikes, or walking, or having any sort of human qualities like speaking in decipherable language, or listening. So picture me rollin two bikes, tangled in a dog leash with said dog attached to the end, while dragging a two year old by the arm, and nudging my 5 year old in the rear with my foot as she reluctantly now walked in front of me, WITH a bag of dog crap in my hands and then deciding to stop for the mail. As I fumbled for my keys, I glance to Ian who is peeing himself on the sidewalk.

I right then, receive a text message from Sean which includes a photo of a giant mug of beer from the Boston Red Sox game he is attending and I want to die.

The rest of the evening only goes down hill which includes a moment where I find Ian's arms covered in toothpaste as he cleans out our bathroom sink with his toothbrush which is still littered with Sean's shaving remnants from last Saturday. I gag. Alex thinks this is so funny, and for the next hour I try to get them to listen, calm down, and get their pajamas on. They hear me not, and giggle incessantly and I lose it.

The kids went to bed sobbing, and I fell asleep face down in my tear soaked People magazine feeling like the worlds worst mom. I was only able to muster out a text message to a friend who I knew would understand and tell me everything was ok.

This morning, miraculously they didn't hate me for it. I apologized to both of them. Ian said, 'Thanks mom' and burrowed into me. I asked him what he wanted for his birthday and he said, 'CAKE'!. What else I asked? 'ICE CREAM'! What about a toy (I dig and dig for an idea), 'CHOCOLATE TOYS'!

And a chocolate toy he will get. So now, picture me rollin to Toys R Us this afternoon where I will make up for a stressful week with lavish gifts, or chocolate treats and anticipate Sean's safe return this afternoon.

Wordless Wednesday, this boy likes him an apple.

2010-06-23T08:59:00.000-07:00

Wow-I love this concept. Every Wednesday a photo and no words. Although, I'm cheating this time so I can explain. But now I will shut up. One more thing, HOLY CRAP I love this kid.

A potentially not so brief update on the miscellaneous happenings in the Kolmer house.

2010-06-16T15:06:00.000-07:00

It's been sort of a whirlwind the last few weeks. I feel sort of as if I'm nesting, and this time not for a baby. I'm not folding tiny clothes, into teeny tiny drawers, and I'm not cleaning out closets, and throwing out 3 year old food from our cupboards, (although, I'm going to add that to my list). I've been obsessed in completing all those chores around the house that normally get done in the summer time.

Well, for those of you not living in the Pacific Northcrapfest, we have yet to see more than a glimpse of summer weather here. SO, I figure no better time than now to power wash the house, the deck, repaint the deck, clean the garage, make several trips to the goodwill, and overall de-clutter the place. In the middle of all that, I decided I hated the color of my laundry room and in a few hours time and many regrets later, voila! What once was yellow, is now a grayish blue...or something. All of this so that when the sun does decide to shine, I will be ready for it.

Mixed into all that, we've had a few bugs hit the kids. You know, those straggling germs that get us right at the beginning of summer when we are hanging on by a tiny thread for cold/flu season to finally rid itself. I've survived the year end push at work, and yesterday the kids had their last day of school at the preschool we've taken Alex too since she was 1 1/2 and that Ian started at just about the same age. It's been a lot to take in. I'm never good with change, unless it's a paint color, or a hidden wad of quarters buried in the bottom of my purse.

I'm currently crawling out of a 'I'm a terrible mother, gutter' after several evenings spent pouring over the gruesome details with ambitious salesmen of getting our windows replaced. This at the expense of foregoing any quality time with the kids which was compounded by a terrible guilt of my missing Alex's final gymnastics class and performance. Luckily Sean was able to make it, but with each and every one of these events I miss I get more and more anxious that my baby is 5, and she's going to school next year, and wow these 5 years have flown. I get bitter at how much of her life I have missed due to work, and if someday this feeling of guilt will go away.

I was lamenting these feelings last night after a long day at work and a long evening with the kids. Sean didn't get home til after the kids were in bed and I was tiiiiirred. So tired that I muttered several profane words as I hauled a load of laundry into the living room to be folded. After dropping half the load on the way, and bending over to pick up a sock or one of the 30 white undershirts Sean so desperately needed near 20 times I exploded. Then I sat down, and watched the best possible show I could have at that very moment which was a TLC documentary on a family with quintuplets.

What a nightmare. Although, they couldn't even have a nightmare if they tried with NO sleep and 5 infants to feed and diaper and clothe...and added expenses of near $6K per month.

And I knew I would survive.

And I knew that needing new windows was not the worst thing in the world.

And I knew that one day soon, the sun would shine for more than 19 hours and rid me of the ghastly mood I'm in.

Alex is doing great, aside from the giant dent in her forehead. On Monday, as she was cleaning up toys she spun herself in this elaborate and non graceful circle while on all fours throwing her head into the corner of our activity table. It stunned her, and when the bleeding started SHE FREAKED. Head wounds always bleed a lot, so I didn't panic but she did. And it took her an hour, two ice packs, and 3 Dora band-aids to calm her down. Oy.

Ian is in a super funny stage right now. He's obsessed with his upcoming 3rd birthday and at times when he's feeling angst, gets told 'no', or is irritated by you in any way will loudly proclaim, 'you're not coming to my birfday pauwty'. He weaseled out of a nap the other day claiming his friend 'Jason' wouldn't stop talking to him and he told me he hated the Clifford the big red dog book because there was a daddy in it, and daddy's are annoying (pronounced: anoylin).

Poor Sean.

I'm going to close with that. I'm also going to promise that all future posts will be sunny and bright and filled with lovely pictures and memories of all the summer fun we will have. Oh yes, fun we will have. For now I'll leave you with this:

and this; see, he does love him!

and this:

and...whatever this is.

Uncle Brent Wins...

2010-05-27T12:00:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a 5 minute break to write down a funny, because I fear that with the hectic-ness (is that a word?) of work right now (IT'S FISCAL CLOSE YIPPEE) paired with the fact I made an ever apparent error in judgement at the wee age of 19 and chose FINANCE as my 'dream', that I may forget this.

And if I did that, the world around me would fall apart right? Not really.

I'm blabbering.

Did I mention that between the two kids I've gotten 12 hours of sleep since Monday? That just ain't right. I don't even have an infant. Just a young boy with growing pains (literally) and a daughter who is scared silly of dots on her wall, shadows, and has had a recurring nightmare of someone jumping on her bed in the night for the last three consecutive nights, and an alarm clock that buzz's the same time every morning regardless.

So as for the funny, it is this: Last week, Alex got an amazing slip n slide complete with pool and boogie boards from my sister Sarah (we call her Aunt Soosa) for her birthday. She was thrilled! A few days later, in the mail came an even BIGGER slip and slide complete with shark tunnel from Uncle Brent. I nonchalantly (not even really serious) said she could think about taking one back and picking out some other outside water toy. I didn't even think she heard me.

So last night, as I was making dinner I told her we need to get the basket of thank you notes out and start writing our birthday thank yous. And this is what she said:

"I'm gonna write on Aunt Soosa's thank you card- Sorry I want to take your gift back, Love Alex"

So, one point for Uncle Brent. But honestly, I can't even bear to return it now as it will be discarding the very item that made me laugh harder this week than I thought possible. Again, the fatigue, the stress, and the verging on 'crazy' may have made it more funny than it is...I'll let you be the judge.

My Girl, talking bout-My Girl.

2010-05-19T10:58:00.000-07:00

Five Years Ago Today...

-I became a mother, and my life changed forever in the best of ways.

-I said goodbye to order, and control. And sleep.

-I fell in love with a little girl and have done so over and over again each and every day since.

This week, we celebrated Alex's 5th birthday. And at Five Years Old, Alex...

-Can recognize and write all her letters.

-Read words, (mostly by her inherited photographic memory).

-Is a happy, loving, nurturing and sweet girl.

-Loves her brother 70% of the time, the other 30% is mauling him, torturing him or chasing after him. Sean may argue my ratio is severely off.

-enjoys being outside, riding her bike, watching Tom & Jerry and doing art projects.

-When she's angry, she stomps her feet, slams her bedroom door, and proclaims, 'nobody likes me!'. Also, she is not dramatic at all.

-has given up naps for the most part but falls asleep in the car for any ride longer than 15 minutes.

-has many 'best friends' including Trey, Devon, Caden, and sometimes she'll add Ian to the list.

-prefers her dad in most regards, and the feeling is mutual.

-makes me laugh every day at either her dramatic tirades, or the funny things she says.

-last week referred to her 'down there', or 'private area' as her china. At least she picked a word that rhymes!

-loves to wear dresses and leggings and shoes with shine and glitter.

-can be found looking at herself in the mirror, and admiring the beauty of herself!

-has many favorite toys including dolls, fairy's, and little pet shop pets.

-is excited for Kindergarten and refers to her new school as the 'red roof school'.

-is a worrier, just like her Mom and her Nanna.

-is smart as a whip, with a memory like an elephant just like her Dad.

-hates to cleanup after herself.

I can believe that Alex is five. Somehow, it makes sense. I feel like I've been a 'mom' for five years, that my life has been different for five years. I can't believe however how she's changed in that time. She's like this mini person, with thoughts and feelings and opinions. She's so smart, and funny! And has this amazing sense of humor. She's also thoughtful, and worries about others. She's cautious with herself, I doubt this girl will ever sky dive or bungee jump. Thank goodness.

She blows my mind each and every day, and every single time I look at her face I remember the day she was born. How instantly I loved her. Where Ian looks nothing like he did as a baby, she still has the same features, larger and matured but the baby is still there.

Ah, I love her.

She is such a daddy's girl, which developed when Ian was born. They formed a bond and a respect for one another and both being Taurus's this works for us. They 'understand' each other, if you will.

I'm so proud of who she is becoming, and so proud of Sean and I. We used to laugh when she turned 1 and 2. We succeeded at parenting! We have cared for every one of her needs around the clock, we kept her alive! It's hard to imagine that for 5 years now, we've been responsible for her safety, and her health. That's 1,825 days and nights!

Incredible.

She is incredible.

Dear Abby, or Diary, or whoever you are,

2010-05-03T19:04:00.000-07:00

I go to bed with a heavy heart AGAIN. And Sean is at a work dinner, so you blog are my only hope.

I'm pretty sure that by now, it's clear that I hate to leave my kids each day. I'm sure all my friends (including you blog) are tired of hearing about it. So, I'll spare you the recap on that on-going saga. But I will say this; I know that staying at home and working both have their ups and downs. And I'm sure if I did stay home I'd be grasping for some semblance of adult interaction. I know that both jobs are hard hard hard.

I guess sometimes I wish that I had a choice. For me the only choice was 'where'. For this I blame Linfield College. The school that both Sean and I paid thousands and thousands of dollars to well, meet each other. This is also the institution that sucks a good chunk of change out of our bank account each month. I hold tight to that concept, that the loans we pay each month are some sort of dowry to each other. Right? RIGHT?

The worst part for me has always been, those first few weeks of taking your baby to someone else to care for. I've done it twice and there is no easy button for that task. You hunt hunt hunt for the perfect place, although in your heart no place is perfect unless it's with you. You view centers, home daycare's and you knit pick them to death. You hope the other kids are well behaved and don't teach your kids bad manners. You hope their teacher, nanny, or daycare provider treats them as though they were their own.

You mostly just hope.

That your making the right decision.

Then you rip the band aid off and you drive away from your baby. And you cry the whole way to work. And when you pick them up with smiles on their faces...you know you've done good.

I digress. Three years ago, I made a choice. I made a choice to move Alex from her first daycare and I found Kathleena. For three years our kids have been cared for to my very high standards. They come home all learned and smart. They are active, and artsy and have fun! They do music and dance, and all the things I can't teach them during the day, Kathleena does. She probably has taught them more than I ever could. And for this I am forever grateful.

Unfortunately, the logistics of our life are changing. And for us, logistics have always been our biggest hurdle. How do we get Sean to Salem, myself to Beaverton, the kids to school and all back again? How do we incorporate classes, swim lessons and still leave time for QT at night? We've managed. I've gotten up and driven to work each morning before the roosters crow, and we manage to get Sean home just as dinner is on the table. It's working. But next year, Alex is starting school and everything is changing and although I haven't worked out the details yet, what I do know is our time with Kathleena is ending. She's out of our district and in the Fall, we'll be moving Alex and now trying to figure out how to logistically get her to her place and Ian to his and us to ours. I'm tired just thinking about it.

I'm digressing again. Basically, I've decided to keep the kids home this summer. And as my friend always says, 'remove the daily task of ripping my kids from their sheets' each morning. My dear Sis is thrilled to spend some quality time with them in between long weekends, a few vacations, and some family visits. And I'm excited for them and the summer we have planned but heartbroken about Kathleena.

I told her today as I picked up the kids and left with such a terrible heartache inside. I felt like giving good notice was the best possible thing I could do and instead it just feels icky. She has absolutely been amazing to us and our kids. She has worked with our long days, she's accepted my kids on Mondays when I've had to work, and most recently Fridays. They love her, we love her.

And Kathleena, I hope if your reading this you know that. And I hope you know that in the end, it's logistics.

I will be forever grateful for the love, and the amazing spirit you've given to our kids. I've picked up my kids with smiles on their faces every every every day, and there is no thank you big enough for that.

She doesn't even know me!

2010-04-22T07:44:00.000-07:00

I hesitated to write this one down because, If I do one day print this out and organize it into some sort of book for the kids this is one of those stories that every time I read it...I'll cry and cry. But at the same time, I think it's important because what transpired last night is something that haunts me every day and is my biggest struggle in this adventure you call parenting.

As I was tucking Alex into bed last night, having just returned from the gym (the first trip in weeks) and having actually taken some time for me, she says this:

"Mom, I don't even know you. Your gone all the time at work and I'm always at school."

OUCH.

A dagger pierced through my heart. I looked at my sweet girl, almost 5! And as much as it hurt, I felt the same way about her. Time just flies by, I maneuver through the work week counting days until Saturday when I can re-connect, breath and be a mom. Where I'm not racing to get home, jumping hurdles to get dinner on the table before they melt down from hunger, hurry them to bath and pray that they pick short books and go to bed quickly so I can collapse.

It's true that she doesn't know me. She doesn't know that I think of them all day at work. She doesn't know that I would give anything for more time with them, and she doesn't know that I go to bed feeling horrible guilt for the time I'm not home. I wish I came home refreshed and alert, with all this energy to give to them, but I don't. Just like I get through the work day, I'm just getting through the evening routine. Hopefully one day she will understand.

One day with kids of her own, she'll realize that although I wasn't there for the fun, the learning and the amazing experiences she had during the day. I was there last night for the moment when Ian pooped all out his pull-up and onto the floor, smearing the walls, his skinny little legs covered, and soiling his Jammie's for good. I was there to give him a shower at 8:45 pm, when truly I wanted to be face down in my bed. That was me. I was there for that. Isn't that enough?

In the meantime, I have to just keep doing my best. I have to keep taking what I have to give and dispersing it to where it's most important. And maybe this week, I need to focus on her and let her pick that huge, thick, Sleeping Beauty book I hate at bedtime. And the fact that summer is approaching and the top button of my jeans is working harder than a Japanese train pusher to keep me in may just have to wait.

A transformation

2010-04-15T11:52:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I do stuff. I do stuff that costs too much money, and takes too much time but it's sort of like therapy to me. Some people think I'm crazy. Some people wonder how I find the time, but I do. Because I need it. And because sitting at a computer 40 hours a week does not bring me the kind of joy that turning something ugly into something pretty does. And well, shouldn't everyone have a hobby?

I am constantly on craigslist. I like to hunt down old, cheap, used, tattered things (and sometimes used, not so cheap and tattered things) to spruce up my humble abode. A few weeks back, I found these:

Super cute huh? They are 50 years old, in perfect structural condition and aside from some dried and petrified grape jelly just a perfectly clean slate.

So, took 12 cans of spray paint, a bit of fabric and some stain I had laying around and did this:

And this:

Besides a numb finger tip (from the use of spray cans) the project was quick, easy and now my dining room looks like it belongs on the cover of Better Homes & Gardens. Well, maybe not. But I like it much better!

I have a new best friend

2010-04-13T14:29:00.000-07:00

This morning Ian melted my heart. He melted it right in two, and then it flooded from my chest, oozing to the floor which is where I snuggled with him for 10 minutes, making me EVEN LATER to work than I already was. All because he said this:

Ian: (After stumbling into my room this morning, hair a mess, and his two faithful blanket animals clutched in each hand) Mommy, you're my best friend.

Me: Aaaaaaah, my sweet boy. You're my best friend too!

Ian: (With Giant Smile) Oh, dat make me so happy!

Alex has also been hamming it up lately. Just yesterday, I asked her if she'd brushed her teeth yet. She said, 'Yes, I brushed them all morning.' 'All morning?' I asked? She said, 'Yes, I just had the water running super low so you couldn't hear it'. All of this said 3 inches from my face and believe me, she clearly had not yet brushed.

Also yesterday, I got lost trying to find a fabric store. I was turned around due to conflicting information on the GPS and Google Maps. I pulled over to think and Alex says, 'What is going on here mom? It's like your mind is broken off'.

Later as she was fighting a bath, I told her she had dirt behind her ears and she said, 'NO, that's not dirt. It's ear plugs'.

Of course.

Keep it Classy, San Diego

2010-03-23T20:20:00.000-07:00

The ~~Griswold~~ Kolmer family Vacation: Part UN
What a week. Sean and I are coming off of a 10 day break from work, the dog, alarm clocks, and chores and have successfully completed our first family vacation. It was our first 'go where we want, do what we want to do' trip and it was with just the four of us. And it was nice.

I could probably write 15 pages of detail on our excursion and post the 405 pictures I took, but I won't. I'll try to keep it two 10 pages and 1 photo, okay 3. You can see the other pictures here.

Friends and family are always wondering why Sean and I haven't had a vacation just the two of us since our honeymoon. Well, besides the obvious in that our money tree is as dead as the rest of the foliage I've ever tried to grow I was actually really looking forward to this time away with the kids.

I left for work this morning feeling a little bit like I did the first days I ever took my babies to childcare and I headed back to work after a long and restful maternity leave. My heart ached a bit and I felt like one or two of my limbs had been torn loose. This week off gave me something I've been craving, and that's pure, unadulterated and precious time with my kids. A chance to be 'present' without deadlines, time constraints, or chores yanking me away.

There is still something inside me wanting a quiet and restful week on a remote beach with a big umbrella drink in my hand but this time, a crazy week in Disneyland & San Diego was just what the doctor ordered. And the sun, palm trees and 85 degree temps weren't bad either.

Disneyland is now a 3 day blur filled with hundreds of credit card swipes, an overdose of pizza & churros, & enough walking to leave Sean and I almost crippled in our hotel room each night. It's true what they say, 'Disneyland really is the happiest place on earth'. We walked around with grins from ear to ear and despite dealing with a few minor melt downs, probably had more fun than the kids.

Highlights include my trip down splash mountain with Alex, her joy and fear mixed scream followed by an immediate yell, 'I want to go again!'. Also at the top of the list for the little Miss was her dinner at Ariel's Grotto where she was able to meet ALL the princesses and snag photos with each. When the bill came to the table I tensed while Sean's jaw dropped, and then he said 'Money well, spent. It was totally worth it to see those smiles on her face'. PHEW.

I'd like to personally thank Mr. Walt Disney and his staff for the careful planning in putting a store at the exit of each ride. Thank you Walt for the placement of the elaborate and over-priced dresses at the exit of Pixie Hollow. I'd really love to have that $65 dollars + tax back in exchange for the pizza stained 'Silvermist' dress now crumpled in Alex's dress up box. As well as the creepy eyed Ariel stuffed doll that I could have filled my gas tank with. Gracias, Merci, & Ma halo, Sir. But really, how cute is this?

We bounced back and forth between Disney & California Adventure for three days covering almost all of both parks, hitting the majority of the rides which probably accounted for over 20 hours hanging out in lines. This left TONS of time for family bonding, people watching and physical struggles to keep Ian from hurting himself as he hung from ropes, tangled himself in bars, and annoyed all the other park goer's by hitting them with his Pirates of the Caribbean sword, or his elbow, or foot, or head for that matter.

When we'd had about all the spinning, gliding, and boat riding we could take we blew that pop stand and hit the road jack. We took a short road trip to Sunny San Diego while the kids got their first full nap in days. And that's when the trip took a SLIGHT turn south, in more ways that one.

The ~~Griswold~~ Family Vacation: Part Deuce
It's not like our trip to San Diego was BAD. In fact it was quiet good. It was lower key, I loved driving around the city and we had a great time at Sea World and the San Diego Zoo. We drove out to Coronado Island, and had a nice and relaxing birthday dinner for moi, however...

Our hotel room was TERRIBLE. Aside from the fact the bedspreads were made of sleeping bag material and we couldn't keep them on the beds to save our lives the bed skirts my friends were made out of Jean. Yeah, Jean. I said it.

There was no fridge as promised, no ice maker, the pool was COLD and the door across from the elevator looked like this:

That's safe.

The room was small and the shower floor I don't even know how to explain. In three words, it was soft. It was impossible to keep your balance and after 30 failed attempts to keep the shampoo bottles on the ledge I gave up and along with trying not to tip over from lack of floor I was then tripping on bottles, sliding on soap bars and well, you know...it just ticked me off.

I did my research, I read reviews, and although only given 4 hotels to choose from where I could use my airline miles I thought I picked the best one. Royal Fail. We made the best of it, laughed a lot and added to the class by buying 24 oz cans of Corona light and storing them in our ice bucket. Keep it classy in San Diego-Ron Burgandy style.

But ASIDE from all that we had more fun, saw Shamu and friends, pet Bat Rays, saw penguins the size of small humans, watched Dolphins swim within inches from us and spent an afternoon at the beach. And oh, I fell in love with a camel and decided our next pet will be 'said camel'. Here he is with giant loogie all ready to go.

Aaaahhhh good times.

$#&@, $%*@, and every other swear word.

2010-03-03T14:20:00.000-08:00

This is the lovely, custom built doghouse we had built.

This is the lovely & unique gate we had built for the large area of our yard we've transformed into a dog run.

This is our SOAB dog amongst his newly laid 6 yards of cedar chips.

And this is the hole the SOAB punched in our back gate today.

To get to this lovely vacant, mud pit of a field behind us.

And $100 shelter fee seemed like a bargain. I will not be using any of this for his craiglist ad.

I love Dirt

2010-02-28T20:33:00.000-08:00

He looks so sweet and innocent doesn't he? Sitting there all quiet and introspectively on his soccer ball? Pictures can be deceiving.

Getting Ian ready for bed usually takes 39 minutes, the use of muscles I didn't know I had, a Cradle (not the loving & rocking kind, but the wrestling kind), and oftentimes an ice pack...for me.

And that is just to get his pajamas on.

I've taken to starting conversations with him to distract him from flailing, kicking and flip flopping like a fish out of water. Today I said to him, "I love your face", and the following transpired:

Ian: I love you Mommy!

Moi: Who else do you love?

Ian: Daddy.

Moi: Do you love Alex?

Ian: No...(long pause) but I love dirt.

Moi: Well what is your most favorite thing in the whole world?

Ian: Nanna...(long pause) and Hot Dogs.

Talkin' bout the BLAZOS

2010-02-22T09:51:00.000-08:00

It's not often that Sean and I get to go out, but last night we, with two of our best friends attended the Blazer game. We planned to meet at McFadden's, a bar on the max line with cheap happy hour. We show up and much to our dismay it's CLOSED SUNDAYS. I stare at the door, I peek in the windows and see chairs up on tables. It's dark. All I wanted was Mac n Cheese for $3. My dreams are squashed. Now, if we were hip we may have known this but we've lost our 'coolness', our knowledge of the Portland Bar scene and after last night...a bit more of our youth. We. Are. Old.

We swallow our pride and arrange to meet at Kells instead. We chatted, we caught up, we shared funny stories of our kids and the woe's of toddlers and their respective bedtimes or lack thereof and laughed. We stared in pity at a young couple with their child, trying to entertain her with a giant book of animals. They intermittently sipped their beverages, turned pages and asked her 'which one is the Ostrich?' We've been there, we were thankful we had babysitters turning the pages of books for us. We then felt guilty that had that been us we probably would have passed off our iPhones and let our kids watch shows off iTunes, or play some $2.99 iPhone application game.

Apparently on Sundays, Kells hosts a local music group. On this particular Sunday, it was a group of wind instruments. They played Irish Music and we sipped the remainder of our drinks. We argued over whether the instruments were recorders or piccolos. Soon it was time to go. We were too late to board the double Decker bus that leaves from Kells at each Blazer home game (I love Portland), so instead walked a block to the Max where we boarded the over-crowded (standing room only) train. We walked in silence like cattle with all the other fans, accepted free inflatable noise makers for the kids and found our seats.

I enjoy these games for two reasons. First, I just love the Blazers. I've loved them since I had huge bangs that I could curl both up and down. I've loved them since I had a giant poster of Buck Williams taped above my bed and well, that about says it. I also love the people watching. We spotted a man with a 'skullet' (mullet but bald on top) skullet man also had a pony tail. We see a woman stuck in the 80's with big bangs and box bleached hair and a man that looked just like Brad Garret, well a younger version anyway. We see old school Blazer jackets. You know, the shiny ones where 'Blazers' is written in cursive. We see Jerseys from every year, with ever Blazer name, we see them over tight black T's and in some cases, no T's at all. We watch in awe and horror the young girls wearing (essentially) bathing suits, dancing out of sync and moving their bodies in ways we hope to God our daughters never do.

The stars were shining on us this day because clearly the best people watching could be found just one row in front of us where a couple entertained us throughout the entire game. Now forgive me while I momentarily mock, judge, and poke fun at two people I don't know. These two were most likely that couple that have been watching the Blazers for years from their very own living room. And tonight, they headed to the Big City to watch the Blazers play the Jazz. They stood there, arms entwined, in love with each other and our very own Rip City. She was adorned in black stretch pants and a Blazer T, he in light wash Levi's and a Blazers Jersey. They hugged and kissed (made out really) each time the Blazers scored and screamed 'RIP CITY' and 'BUST A BUCKET' so many times that by the 3rd quarter we discussed making a drinking game out of the whole ordeal. It was epic. At one point, the young man (after a failed free throw shot) pumped his arms crazily and yelled, 'SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO UUUUURRGE IT IN'. What.

The only other highlight I can't fail to mention is I won something. I never win anything, literally. But when that big Blazer blimp flew over the crowd, my heart palpitated and I felt that this time it could be me. Now, I had no idea the prize as when they were announcing it I was either too engrossed in dancing to the wonderfully chosen 90's beats, or couldn't hear over the frequent 'RIP CITY' shouts, but practically into my hands fell a lovely sealed envelope. I WON. Scenes from 'A Christmas Story' flashed in front of my eyes. OH COULD IT BE? Was it a lovely leg lamp? Was it French or possibly Fragile? Well no, it was a $10 gift card to Subway but hey, a prize is a prize.

Despite holding a wide lead the entire game, the Blazers choked in the end and lost the game in overtime. It was disgusting, and disappointing, and we left feeling defeated but thoroughly entertained. The Blazers did not bust quite enough buckets, but Rip City anyway.

Everything you can do, I can do better. I can do everything better than you.

2010-02-11T12:24:00.000-08:00

Ah, I really hope Sean's sense of humor is on fire this week because I'm about to test it.

I'm starting to realize that some people are just better at different things. After 7, err...8? years of marriage you'd think I'd come to accept our definitive roles. You'd think that although Sean and I compliment each other in so many ways I could realize that he is really nothing like me. And truly, that is not a bad thing.

Let me explain.

Much to my dismay, I am type A. I worry about everything. I make lists to keep myself organized and I write things on them I've already accomplished JUST to make myself feel productive. I am a control freak. Most weekends, I wander my house completing half of a task as I cannot focus on what I'm doing because THERE ARE SO MANY other things to do. So you'll find me opening the fridge, removing a shelf of contents to clean it and as I stop in the laundry room to grab the cleaner I see a load of laundry to be folded. Twenty minutes later I'll see that the fridge door is open and Ian has carried the jug of milk into the living room. I'd love to say this is a result of having children, a full time job and being over-extended. But I'm sorry to say, I think I've always sort of been like this. Anybody want to be my friend? I didn't think so.

Sean is much more relaxed. He knows what's most important and would only find himself in the cleaning supply bucket if the toilet was growing fuzz. He prefers to spend his time, engaging with the kids and giving them fun filled weekend activities while I spin around like a tornado making sure the blocks are in the 'block bucket', and the Mr. Potato heads are in their drawer. Wouldn't want them mixed up right? I'm sick. I know. The fact that some days he never stops running from one meeting to the next and then closes his computer alas at midnight doesn't even affect him. He works hard and with a positive attitude. If I leave work 30 seconds past 5, I feel like I am now TOTALLY behind in my evening routine and now there is NO way I'll make it to the gym. GAAAWWWWD, over dramatic freak.

Over the last two weeks, we found out our Mexico trip with friends was not going to work out. We opted to have a MASSIVE CHANGE IN PLANS which typing the words alone is making my blood pressure rise.

Cancelling flights, researching new vacation spots, hotels, logistic planning to and from has been my primary focus for the past two weeks. In my spare time, outside of work, and the kids, and well...The Bachelor.

I managed to change our flights, I poured over hotel after hotel looking for the perfect abode at both Disneyland & San Diego. I found a reasonably priced 3.5 star establishment equipped with attractive comforters, fluffy pillows, AND complimentary breakfast. Believe me, this was no easy task as comforter design and fluffiness is almost as important to me as free coffee in the morning. I digress...

I spent an obscene amount of time PLANNING, organizing and laying out our trip. Meanwhile I asked two specific favors of the hubsand including 'please call (blank) hotel and ask for rates.' He did, I heard him discussing dates, then he says loudly, 'OH, I need it for March. Not February. Oh, OK, thanks goodbye'. I also asked him to handle car rental. I thought that was fair and although he's spent two evenings researching Hertz, Budget, & Thrifty car rates all we've resolved is that renting a mini van is more cost effective than a mid-sized car. Great. I'll take comfort in that fact as we hitch-hike to San Diego with two small children, 3 bags, 2 car seats and a couple of pirates of the Caribbean swords.

In his defense, we have a month til vacation. But in my eyes, why wait? Why leave the task loitering there on the list like that? It just seems like uneccesary stress..and clutter.

I say all this because this morning I checked our credit card transactions to ensure all the bookings I've made over the past few days were correct, etc. And low and behold you'll never guess what was on there. A charge to above (blank) named hotel. The one that was booked? But available in February? Can anyone make it to Disneyland by Saturday? Because apparently there is a room with your name on it. 3 nights on us, the name is under SEAN KOLMER.

There is a reason I do what I do and REFUSE to share the responsibility of bill paying, etc with Sean. There is a reason Sean takes out the trash. And it's not just because I can never remember which side of the street to face the lid or which bucket is recycling and is it an even or odd Thursday? And truly, I don't even know which can is for Yard Debris and which is for Garbage. Because well, that's his job. And unless he's travelling all I know is that if I place the garbage sack outside the garage door, it miraculously makes it into the can, onto the street and gets whisked away to garbage land. Like MAGIC.

I fill the dishwasher every night but do I ever put soap in it and push START? No. I may find the perfect dog for us, but do I walk him? Ever? Heck no. I cook and do dishes, Sean gives the kids baths and typically combs Alex's fro (and believe me this is a bummer of a task). I make sure we have the ingredients for the weekly meal plan, yet Sean is always changing the oil in one of the cars, or replacing the furnace filter. It's hard to deviate. So I can sympathetically understand that when I ask Sean to do one of my jobs (because I do have MORE of them) he forgets, or does it wrong. Truth be told if when packing for a trip he asked me to remember the phone charges, the monitor, and to set the light timers? I'd forget. Or do it wrong too.

Every week, I re-write my 'to do' list. I don't like it over cluttered. I don't like it to be messy and hard to read and this morning as I did this. Something happened. I RE-WROTE for the 100th time, 'College Fund' automatic deposit.

DUN DUN DUN.

If blood could boil, mine did.

Since Ian was born back in July of 2007, I have been writing this down over and over and over. You see, Sean's work allows you to deduct pre-tax a set $ amount per month to be deposited into the kids Oregon College Savings Plan. This is something I CANNOT do. This is something Sean HAS to do. So I'm begging him, publicly and embarrassingly to 'PLEASE submit the paperwork. Also, please call your health insurance and discuss Ian's hearing test costs. If you do this, I do hereby promise (and you know how I stick to those) to do any one of your jobs of your choosing. As long as it's not the garbage thing, or anything in the garage and/or outside. Which includes dog walking, poop picking up and removing all the trash from my car which you so graciously do weekly. And Sean, 'I love you'.

Mine.

2010-02-03T15:24:00.000-08:00

Is there a point in time when your kids are no longer your property? MY son, MY daughter, MY kids, MY responsibility. Everything about them right now is mine. Their food? Mine. Their fun? I gave it to them. Their clothes? I bought them. Their toys? Technically mine (which I've had fun reminding them of as they battle over something screaming MINE MINE MINE!!. I like to say, 'Actually kids, it's mine. Give it to me. Now when you'd like to share MY toy, please let me know.'

I'm starting to feel this sort of shift.

Babies are easy to me. Taking care of the physical needs of infants never really rocked my world. I never felt so horribly tired or fatigued. I was never overwhelmed with the time it took to get out the door, or the amount of items we now had to pack in the car for a two night beach trip. But what I am finding overwhelming is managing their personalities. This enormous responsibility is hitting me. How will I be sure I'm doing the right things? Am I disciplining enough or too much? How do I make sure my people become good people. How do I make sure I'm giving them each equal attention and praise? Because that is mine, all mine to do.

One of MY kids in particular has recently developed quite the personality.

This is the boy that at 9:45 pm, was found playing his drums secretly in his room. His light was on, all books were torn from his shelf, and he had removed several shirts from their hangers and strung them around the room.

This is the boy who runs, everywhere he goes but can be found in a dead asleep heap right in front of his bedroom door.

This is the boy that spits incessantly, and sends out ear piercing shrills of joy all. day. long.

This is the boy that REFUSES to potty train.

This is the boy that when asked to do ANYTHING falls to the ground and screams 'MY KNEE!'

This is the boy that pleads, 'Mommy, read me just one more book please?' while pouting his lip and batting his long girlish eyelashes.

This is the boy that has his mother wrapped all the way around his chubby little finger.

This is the boy that was once my baby.

I can't believe he's 2 1/2 years old. I was thrown back in time Sunday night when he awoke at midnight crying in pain. Unlike two years ago, he's now able to tell me his tum tum hurts. Unlike two years ago, I can't fully cradle or rock him in my arms anymore and all soothing mechanisms (bottles, & binks and whatnot) are long gone. Okay, the bink has only been gone two weeks. But still. The only thing that was the same, was that he still needed me.

There is a stack of paraphernalia in the garage that includes a highchair, a porta-crib, a bassinet and a moses basket. Boxes of boys clothing, baby toys and a excersaucer litter our attic space. I don't have a baby anymore. I love my kids, but I MISS my babies. MOST of the time these days, I'm fighting an inner battle of wanting another baby or just missing the two I had. Do I want another college tuition? Do I want another wedding to fund? Another plain ticket to buy or another tab on the monthly daycare bill? Not really. But do I want another little face to call my own? Hell yes. Don't tell Sean, he's perfectly fine with two faces and a dog mug at this point.

I have a photo in each of the kids room next to their bed. Ian's is of him at 6 months. He's a chubby yummy, just sitting up on his own, chewing on a teething toy pile of cuddly goodness. OH LOOK, I found it! Man, I love technology.

Last night I pointed to the picture and said, 'Ian, where did my baby go?'. He said, 'That's me! Why is my eye broke?' (The frame I had cut it off just a little bit). I apologized and told him the picture was too big for the frame and he said, 'But that's MY eye'. My baby is starting to have things of his own, opinions and wishes of his own. I mean, is it too much to ask to have your WHOLE eye showing? Next he'll want the keys to the car, or his own car or will be petitioning us to build him an apartment over the garage because we are too un-cool to live with.

But until then, I'm going to hang on like hell to what I can. Like that toy in Ian's hands above? It's in the garage. I know exactly where. And for now, it's not going anywhere. It's totally mine.

Who said watching paint dry was boring?

2010-01-26T07:10:00.000-08:00

All I can say is WOW. I blinked, and it's almost February. My blog still has Christmas background, and I feel like I can't possibly go back and re-cap the last two months. Over the last several weeks, I've dusted off my tenny-runners, hauled out my boxes and boxes and BOXES of Nike gear and have been visiting the gym in the evenings after work, after dinner, and after getting the kids in their PJ's. With that added time suck, something has had to give, and that something is this here blog.

But I thought I'd check in. Update a bit, if you want to catch up on pics you can see those here. It's been a CRAZY last two months. Sean has been working a LOT, but is really loving his new job. In the 'I'm really busy, the day flies by and I feel like I'm doing something productive' kind of way. The downfall is I watch The bachelor and other (smut TV shows) alone and to the sound of his pitter pattering on the computer. The kids had a lovely Christmas, we tried our best to give them some great experiences. We baked cookies, and we made a gingerbread house. We visited Zoo lights, Portland International Raceway's light show, and despite the frigid temperatures, we stomped across icy terrain and cut down our own tree. Alex and I along with my mom, sisters, nephew and gramma went to the Nutracker which was a really fun experience for everyone.

We even ventured up to Mt. Hood with my sisters and kids and stayed two nights in a quaint and rustic (including a flat screen, hot tub, and the best damn beds I've even slept in) cabin. We spent two days sledding, hot tubbing and over-exerting our weak muscles with some intense Wii'ing. It was lovely. Below is one picture I will add of us up at the mountain. Alex is not looking good. It was FREEZING and it reminds of of Christmas Vacation. 'She'll see it later, her eyes are frozen'.

New Years was spent out with some of our best friends. We went to Paragon downtown and spoiled ourselves with a lavish dinner, and rung in the new year with our friends at the amazing Hotel Monaco. Was truly a fun evening with good people, and lots of laughs, and well...some extremely entertaining voice memo recordings. Thanks iPhone.

The kids are doing GREAT. Alex is still in gymnastics and is now taking piano lessons at school. She is learning to read! She loves to ask questions and really listens to the answers. Last week she asked what happens when we die. These questions are getting easier to answer for me as I've learned that simple answers that make sense to a 4 year old are all she needs. With each passing year these answers may change. I told her that when our bodies don't work anymore, whether we get old or hurt or really sick, our hearts and souls go to live with God. She found comfort in that as she's always asking about God, where is he, etc. She then very concerned 'confirmed', 'Mom, we still have lots of life in us right?'. She is such a thinker and a worrier. She asks consistently about my grandfather who passed last year, and feels sincere empathy for my grandma who now lives alone. She has such a sweet and warm heart.

She is still begging for ballet lessons, but I can't find the time to take her that fits with my work schedule. I've written and deleted several letters to some of these places on behalf of working moms as the only classes seem to be offered Tues-Friday between 10 am and 3. L-A-M-E.

Ian is also doing well. He is, how do I say it? Working through his emotions right now. You may call him a 'drama king'. You tell him 'No', he drops to the floor in a heap and sobs. I can't help but smile with his little lips all turned upside down. He really works it. If you ask him to do something his initial response, 'MY LEG, or MY KNEE.' Last week it was 'MY CHEEK HURTS', I can't help pick up the toys!!!!! Oh jeez. NO IDEA where it got it. Ahem, let's move on.

Our third child (CHIP) is also thriving :). Aside from this last weekend where a trip to the dog park caused a tail sprain that apparently is extremely painful. He spent the majority of the weekend on his bed, or walking to his food bowl with his rear all tucked and his tail stuck in one position. Poor guy. Sunday, Sean was at a sports bar with friends I ended up taking him to the Vet ER as he was shaking and not eating. I felt kind of dumb taking the dog I KNOW to be a neurotic pound puppy to the ER when all the other dogs had gaping wounds and 'obvious issues' going on. But peace of mind and $70 dollars out the window...

The only other news is we had a MAJOR CATASTROPHE on Sunday. Okay, I had a major catastrophe. Sean was at the sports bar, I had just returned home from the vet and decided HEY, I'm going to go around and touch up some wall scuffs caused most likely from Ian's flying light saber. I got out the can of white paint, opened it up and set it on the dryer. I wandered off to do something else as I can't stay on task and came back to the project at hand. I thought "Hey, I should shake this up, it's been months since I've used it", forgetting I had already opened the lid. I then proceeded to shake a half gallon of eggshell/latex paint onto myself, my new jeans, a new pullover, my laundry room floor, rug and ALL. OVER. MY. DRYER. It was pouring over all sides.

It was one of those messes where you don't know where to begin.

So I started with my clothes and as I was kneading them in the laundry sink softly whispering all the profanities I could think of Alex shows up at the laundry room door. 'Hey Mom', she says. 'YES HONEY?' I sort of kind of sternly reply.

'Can I have a piece of chocolate?'

It was as if she had NO idea what was going on. The laundry room looked like frosty the snow man had blown up in it.

I very calmly replied, 'Alex, do you not see here that I'm dealing with a total crisis? Can you go get me two large garbage sacks and all the paper towel that you can find?'

She says, 'Sure Mom, Why? And, can I have a piece of chocolate now?'

UM. I told her she could do whatever she wanted for the next half hour just don't make a mess PLEASE.

God help me, my dryer buttons are still jammed with paint, and the front of my very recently new front loader has PAINT dried all over it because of course, the dryer was running and warm and the paint hardened instantly. WOOP WOOP. Talk about a perfectionists worst nightmare. All I was trying to do was touch up a 1/2 inch black scuff on the door TO THE GARAGE. Time well spent. And this all AFTER I died my hair brown. Moral of the story, you can take the blonde out of the hair...but you can't take it out of the girl.