Creature Bug

State of the Family Union

Next week, President Obama is giving the State of the Union address. In fact, he was invited, by House Speaker John Boehner because they are such good pals. I also was invited (in a less specific way, but by someone I admire considerably more than, say, Boehner admires the President) by Gretchen at Lifenut to give a State of the Family Union. Hers was so clever, I couldn't help but play along.

How to sum up our year of activity? The respective departments have submitted their reports.

The Department of Transportation: The executive branch is still happy with our two vehicles, Jason's truck and my Saturn Vue. There was talk of selling the truck, having Jason drive the VUE, and me get a more gas-efficient vehicle since 24 mpg isn't exactly cost efficient for my 70-mile commutes (I figure it costs me nearly $25 to drive to and from work, twice a week). But I don't know if I'm keen on getting a smaller car. I've essentially filibustered the motion for a new car. No future bills or amendments are anticipated.

The Department of Health and Human Services: Let's see...it's usually a good sign if you can't think of any particular ailments right off the bat. We've stayed pretty healthy in terms of colds and flues. A few colds here and there, nothing serious. I almost wrote that Jason didn't pass out this year, but no. That's not true. He did. Fortunately, I've stopped worrying about it because it's just what he does when he experiences severe pain. Each to his own, I suppose.

The Department of the Interior: Oh boy. We managed to pass a lot of bills in this department. New flooring topped the budget, along with a bathroom renovation (new regular-sized tub! no more itty bitty mobile home tub!). We *cough* painted the playroom and office, and added an interior window and beadboard to a few areas. I painted the kitchen cabinets. I have my eye on renovating our bathroom and the laundry room. Future bills will hopefully be passed without much discussion.

The Department of Education:The big news was Jules starting kindergarten. It was a grand and glorious occasion, which she sometimes enjoys but always thrives in. Sydney is in 3rd grade, Addie is now doing pre-preschool two days a week while I teach. It was proposed that I start my PhD this fall, but the proper hoops were not sufficiently jumped. The bill is still on the table, waiting for a better moment.

The Department of Homeland Security: After a few deer illegally crossed the border on a midnight run for the garden, we decided to get a German Shorthaired Pointer. There have been some grumblings that outsourcing our security may not have been the best option, particularly since Fraulein Greta is neither well-behaved nor strict in her duties. The local media has dubbed the whole operation "ReGreta," but hopefully some local support will assist in fixing it.

The Department of Energy: Half of the executive branch decided to try out a new source of energy: running. I ran. I ran a lot. I ran a marathon. There is evidence that running produces energy, but so far the results are mixed. Another study has been undertaken to determine if there is a future in running energy, and the Eugene Half Marathon is on the calendar for both Jason and I. The house of representatives has plenty of energy stocks to go around, if only we could find a way to distribute the excess.

The Department of Labor: Our labor session remains consistent at ten months out of the year. We can't be expected to work all the time, right? The executive branch is working on a better system to get the non-executives to take up a few more chores, since they are all clearly living off the work of others. Measures to scale back the local welfare state are in the works.

The Treasury Department: After a small debate, we determined that the income from the Coaching Soccer project would now and forever be considered "vacation money." This decision allowed for a visit to Scotland, and is already earmarked for two weeks in Florida. Observant readers may note the clause at the end of the Vacation Money document: Under certain circumstances, such as natural disasters and acts of God, this money will no longer be free for vacation but must be spent in accordance with sound budgeting. We're keeping our fingers crossed that such an occasion won't come up.

The Department of Defense: Too many discussions about guns has caused severe mental hardship for parts of the executive branch. Ergo, the Department of Defense has been turned over to the Department of Health and Human Services in order to help the anxiety level maintain a code green.

The State Department: Unfortunately, no bills were passed to allow for travel abroad and so the passports will remain tabled. Fortunately, we have a grand tour of central and west-coast Florida planned for July. Part of our itinerary includes exploring Disney World, Universal Studios, Sea World, and local beaches. Of particular note is the planned excursion to visit alligators and Winter the Dolphin (of Dolphin Tale fame). The Florida vacation will probably be the milestone achievement of the year.

Which is way more fun than reworking our family's health care system.

{For the real State of the Union address, turn on your tv on February 12th. It may or may not be as entertaining as the above, but it will no doubt have better rhetoric!)

7 Quick Takes Friday (vol. 22)

: 1 :

First and most importantly: Jason's birthday was on Wednesday.

Hooray for birthdays!

Actually, at this age I'm kinda past the ole "hooray for birthdays" thing because I don't especially enjoy getting older (I don't dislike it, but it's not going to break my Top 100 Favorite Things list). Nevertheless, Jason and I figure if you're going to get older you might as well be able to eat out on your birthday. He picked Spaghetti Factory, and then had the happiest of birthday experiences by listening to Sydney and Jules whine, complain and fight the whole.night.long.

It was super terrific.

: 2 :

On the way home from Jason's birthday dinner, Jason was telling Jules that in 10 years she'll be 16. "In ten years," he said, "you can drive me to my birthday dinner. Won't that be fun?"

"TEN YEARS?" she said, "Won't you be dead in 10 years?!"

Time is tricky concept to grasp.

: 3 :

I have a birthday coming up. Next Friday, in fact, I will turn the lovely age of 37. I don't care much about turning 37 except that it gets me a little closer to 40. And while I did just say that I'm not super duper excited about getting older, I am super duper excited about going to Hawaii when I'm 40. I may already be thinking about the swimsuit I will wear to Hawaii.

: 4 :

We've had a little bit of doggie drama on the farm. Greta (my parents' German Shorthaired Pointer) and Iggy (Ty and Sarah's yellow lab) got into something fishy. It was either a trout, a salmon, or a salamander. They then both proceeded to get salmon poisoning. Evidently, 90% of dogs die without treatment, and Greta was pretty close to not recovering. Iggy had the benefit of being a 100+ pound dog, and so had a little more fat reserves to fight off the dehydration. Greta, on the other hand, is still a puppy.

Dad took Greta to the vet, who gave her some antibiotics. The antibiotics worked on Iggy, but not on Greta. Dad had to take Greta back to the vet, and she stayed there last night. The good news is that they said she turned the corner this morning and had her appetite back. Looks like she'll recover just fine.

: 5 :

We had some amazing fog last week. Freezing fog, is the weatherly term for it. It was foggy, and it was freezing, and everything had frost on it. It was kind of like snow, except...not.

(Pardon the redundancy in photos if you follow me on Instagram.)

The railroad tracks near our house.

The country road that I usually run on. This is my usual spot for taking pictures. There are horses off to the left, and a big field and trees off to the right. For some reason, I just like taking pictures here.

Also, there's a great view of Mt. Hood from this road. But I don't have the kind of camera that makes it look as big as I see it in real life.

On Instagram, I titled this "Lucy in Narnia, circa 2013" because that's exactly what it reminded me of. It was day 3 of not seeing the sun, and I just felt like we were stuck in winter forever. Sydney makes a pretty good Lucy, yes?

The alternate title could have been "Sydney at future asphalt factory site." But I wasn't quite feeling the magic in that.

And here are the trees at school. Although walking to my classroom--downhill! on ice! in heels! with a bag full of textbooks!--is sometimes an adventure, it is always without fail a beautiful view. These trees are just perfection.

: 6 :

For no particular reason at all, I have been ridiculously crabby this week. Not just crabby, but angsty and moody and fidgety. It's not because I'm tired, because I've had two consecutive nights of 10+ hours of sleep. I'm just in a mood.

The one person that can almost instantly get me out of my mood, even if just momentarily?

Addie.

Every night I read books to her, and every night she picks out the two books that require batteries (they have sparkly lights on the last page). A couple months ago, the batteries had died on both books, but I replaced them.

"New batt-ries!" she says as she points to the back of the book.

"Yep. New batteries."

"Thank you," she says. Every single night.

: 7 :

I may be grumpy, but I know that tomorrow will be better. For one thing, tomorrow I have two spectacular things going on.

First of all, tomorrow I am going to see Young House Love (aka: The Petersiks) at Rejuvenation in Portland. And not all by myself either. Sister Sarah and friend Emily are going too. And it will be awesome.

I love John and Sherry. They inspired me to paint my kitchen cabinets, and for that I will always hold them near and dear to my heart.

Second of all, after the YHL amazingness, I am going to a spa with BFF Megan, and we will get massages and momentarily forget about all the things that make us grumpy.

I am very very very excited.

Happy Friday! Hope you have a great weekend.

{More Quick Takes here.}

 

For the love of two years

Two years ago, when I was ending my maternity leave from teaching, I needed to find someone to watch Addie when I headed back to school for spring semester. It needed to be someone who lived on campus, someone who could bring Addie to me between classes so that I could nurse her, someone who I trusted with my tiny baby. I wasn't worried about finding someone--teaching at a conservative Christian university means there are a lot of girls who are eager to watch babies--but I still had to find someone.

And just at the right time, an email popped into my box from a former student who had remembered me saying that I would need someone to watch Addie.

DeAnna was an answer to my prayers.

For two years, DeAnna and her roommate Lily have watched over Addie. They watched her go from tiny baby to big kid toddler. They were part of all the milestones--from first tooth, to sitting up, crawling, eating solids, walking, running, talking, demanding they share their chips and cookies with her--they were part of it.

They took her to the cafeteria, the coffee shop, the library. They introduced her to staff and faculty, students and family members. In fact, I think it's fair to say that Addie knows so many people that more people know me as Addie's mom than Professor S.

All these experiences helped make Addie the happiest kid. She travels well, she transitions well, she is fearless about exploring new places. She has grown up believing that wherever she goes, people love her and watch over her. Certainly, she has her moments of shyness and preference--she is two, afterall--but the experience of being loved on a college campus has been permanently marked into her personality.

DeAnna and Lily have given Addie all this. They have read to her, sang songs with her, laughed with her, and done everything you would hope someone who takes care of your child would do.

It's worth mentioning all these things simply because they are important, but today they are extra important to say because yesterday was Addie's last day of going down to Corban with me.

Even though she's a good traveler, and even though it's only two days a week, it's hard to expect a two-year old to consistently love spending 3 hours in the car, particularly since she doesn't nap as much as she used to. She's also trying to potty-train and long commutes just don't work well with that.

On the one hand, it will be easier to get to school without her. I won't have to sing Old MacDonald over and over and over again. I won't need to recite "Brown Bear Brown Bear" 20 times in a row (yesterday's record). I won't need to find ways to keep her awake on the ride home so that she will still go to sleep at her regular bedtime.

But I won't get to hold her hand as we walk down the campus stairs. Won't get to hear her say "handy!" from the back seat and give her my hand as she falls asleep. Won't see her draw on my white board anymore, won't see her wave bye-bye to DeAnna and Lily.

I cried a lot yesterday, and I'm crying now as I write this. It isn't as though I won't see DeAnna and Lily again, or that they won't see her. We're all still here. It's just that this season has ended, and it has been such a rewarding experience for all of us. My words here are only a fraction of how thankful I am for these two ladies, and the others who have helped them with their Tuesdays and Thursdays. For Christa. For William. For Jeffrey. For Andee.

These people came into Addie's life and left love in her life and mine.

What a gift for which I will be forever grateful.

Marathoned

A week ago I ran the Portland Marathon.

My goal was to run it in 5 hours, and I ended up running it in 5:10, so I consider that a goal met.

Even though I signed up to run the marathon back in January, I didn't really start training until June. I ran a little bit here and there before that, but the idea of starting training in rainy weather was not appealing to me, so pretty much I started putting the miles in when summer started.

I wasn't sure how my body would handle running 26.2 miles. The longest distance I'd ever done before was 10 miles back in late June, and I did not like it at all because it took my knees a week to return to normal. In fact, I didn't do any more distance runs after that. Just a lot of 4-6 mile runs. And an 8.5 mile run. But otherwise, I didn't have the time or the desire to go out and run 20 miles.

Which, by the way, is what you're supposed to do when training for a marathon.

But here's the deal: I just wanted to finish it. I didn't care that much about time. I thought 5 hours was a realistic goal because I just couldn't imagine running longer than that. My brother Jake--the hard core runner of our family--told me to prepare for 5 and a half hours. So, I did that. "If I can do it in 5:30, that will be good," I said to myself.

So last Sunday, I woke up at 4:45 am, drove into Portland at 5:15, got to my starting corral at 6:10, and crossed the starting line several minutes after 7 am.

Thousands of people ran the race, and thousands more lined the streets of Portland to cheer us on. I listened to my running playlist in one ear, and to the crowds cheering in the other ear.

And I never stopped smiling.

The whole thing was amazing. I've heard people say they'd never run a marathon again, say they wanted to give up, say they cried at mile 20, say it was the hardest thing they had ever done.

I went into it thinking: I'm doing this for me, for my girls, for my husband. I'm doing this because I want to, not because I have anything to prove.

The truth is I have faced harder things in my life. I suffered mind-numbing, soul crippling, darker than the darkest night depression during my pregnancy with Adelynn. THAT is the marker for the hardest thing I've ever done. Running 26.2 miles on a gorgeous day through one of the best cities in the country, with my family cheering me on? Yeah. Seriously. 

I never felt discouraged during the run, never wanted to give up, never hit the wall. Yes, my legs got tired. Very tired. If I had just been out there running for kicks and giggles and exercise, I would have stopped running at mile 19.

But I was there to finish.

Jason, my parents and my grandpa cheered me on at mile 8 and 11.

Sharon and my girls joined them at mile 18.

My brother and his girlfriend Christa joined at mile 21.

And my sister too! Over the phone! From Scotland!

After mile 21, I was on my own, knowing that they would all be waiting for me at the finish line.

Those last five miles were difficult only in that my legs were darn tired. But they were easy knowing that I was this close to being done. Five miles. Four miles. I imagined myself running down the main street of our town, turning left past the railroad tracks.

Three miles. I thought of running past the corn fields, the ones I had seen growing all summer, and seen harvested a week before the race.

Two miles. I saw myself running past the horses that Addie and I fed apples to when she would stroller along on my runs. I thought of running past the little league fields where I would hear the Saturday morning crowds cheering on kids.

One mile. I stopped imagining, and just took it all in. Down the streets, past the crowds, past the signs, the bands, the last aid station handing out Altima, water, gummy bears, and pretzels.

I saw brother Jake and Christa off to the right, waving me on, cheering me through the last .2 miles.

My girls. My husband. My parents and mom-in-law. My grandpa.

I crossed the line.

5:09:59

My legs were wobbly and my stomach filled with too many gummy bears.

It took my stomach three days to forgive me for the run and allow me to start eating regular food.

My left knee is still swollen.

No matter, though.

Some people go for the records, jump from 24 miles above the earth, train all their life for the one moment, believe that this one thing will make all the difference.

I broke no records, I trained as much as I had time and determination for, and I have accomplished greater things in my life than running a marathon. But this one thing? Running a marathon just because I thought it would be a fun thing to do?

Yeah. I did that.

And someday I might just do it again.

{More marathon pictures are on Flickr...with more play-by-play commentary...here.}

Turning 36

I turned 36 today.

I have to admit, 36 feels...old, well, old-ish. It feels a lot closer to 40 than 35 felt, although I am looking forward to turning 40 because Jason and I are going to Hawaii with our friends Robbie and Megan (the boys aren't sure about this; Megan and I are VERY SURE).

When I was 18--thinking about what it meant to be older--doubling my age would have put me squarely in that category. And now...I'm there. I'm twice the age of my students. I'm not old, but I'm definitely older. I am, as my youngest brother tried to advise me, too old to wear tall boots over my jeans because that's a look for young hipster girls. As it turns out, I love tall boots over jeans too much to follow my brother's advice, but since he was sweet enough to send me an Amazon gift card for my birthday all is forgiven.

I'm 4 x 9, and the 9 times table always felt like old numbers to me. 18, 27, 36, 45, 54, 63, 72, 81, 90. Important numbers.

(I relayed my 9 times table feelings to Jason just now, and he said he prefers to think of us as 12 x 3, but the 12 times table doesn't strike me emotionally for reasons that are between 12 and me.)

Thirty-six. Yep. That's me.

On my birthday I'm always reminded about blogging because I pay for my blog every year on this date. So, I ask myself, do I still want to be doing this? I've been doing it for eight years. Kind of a long time. In blog years it's a very long time. But I guess I'll keep doing it. I still got stuff I can talk about.

As for today...it was a lovely day.

I took Jules to her naturopath, who is happy with her progress (so are we) and we won't need to go back for a couple of weeks.

We went to Home Depot where I picked out a new light fixture for the entryway.

I got to sit in my mom's kitchen and visit with my mom and my aunt.

I saw my new niece Waverly, born a week ago today.

Sneak peek at some adorableness:

(Yes, that is my snot-nosed child giggling over a newborn. Goodness gracious.)

I got to squeal in glee at seeing my passport in the mail. Two months from today we will be in Scotland.

I got to find my birthday presents through following hot-and-cold directions from Jules. Going into the playroom...warmer! Going into the office...colder! Looking under the table...warmer...under the easel...hotter! And score. A box of Junior Mints and conversation hearts.

My girls know me all too well.

It was a good day to turn 36. Even when we were eating dinner at Red Robin and Addie was melting down because she hadn't had a nap, and Jules was crying because she had been asked to please not grab ice cubes out of my water glass, and Sydney was loudly practicing phrases she had learned in Spanish class today ("Buenes tardes! Como estas? Asi asi!"), I still felt happy. Happy to be with my family, crying children, loud Spanish greetings, melting ice cream sundae and all.

And that is the upside to turning 36. Because 18 years ago I would not have handled any of those things particularly well. Fifteen years ago, spending the day like I spent it today might not have seemed like a win. I definitely would not have been excited about having the electrician come and install an outdoor electrical socket. That's how I wanted to spend my birthday money? On a electrical socket? Yes. Yes, it is.

Turning 36? Yes, it does feel oldish. But the older I get the happier I am with where I am in life.

Another candle on the cake just means one more wish.

I like it.

She's Five and She's Fabulous

{Okay, so I've been absent from writing much in the past, oh, two months. I really haven't even been on the computer that much either. I know! It's crazy. But I'm getting back in the swing of it, so here we go.}

Jason and I were commenting on the fact that Jules has always seemed older than she really is. Or, at least, maybe we expect more of her because she's taller and has always done things a little bit earlier than we thought she would. Walking at nine months, talking at ten months, even now measuring a full two inches taller than Sydney was when she turned five. Forty-five and a half inches of sugar and spice.

Of course, the tricky thing, she was still just two, or three, or four. Not four or five or six.

But now she's five.

And it feels like her little world and our perception of her world have finally synced up.

It hasn't been an easy year. She struggled, and we struggled along with her. We took out gluten, took out dairy, took out red dye #40. We switched bedtime around so that she doesn't share it with her sister, and even though she and Sydney share a bed, Syd goes to sleep in our bed until we move her when Jules falls asleep. We talked with her Sunday school teachers at church, and they stopped doing pretzels and goldfish for snacks. Carrots and celery and raisins for everyone.

She saw a naturopath twice a week for a month, then once a week, then twice a month, and now we haven't seen him for a couple months. She was on two homeopathic remedies and fish oil and extra vitamins. We got her down to one homeopathic and fish oil. And now she's just doing fish oil and chamomile drops.

We saw her temper tantrums decrease in their intensity and frequency, and all our hard work paid off bit by bit.

We've slowly introduced a small amount of gluten and some dairy back into her diet, but we still keep the red dye out, and limit her sugar intake (more than normal) since that's all she would eat if it were up to her. I don't think our parenting style has changed too much, although I know I'm more sympathetic to her mood swings because I feel like there's something genetic going on. I feel like if we were totally gluten and dairy free it would help even more. But since the rest of us are whole wheat loving people, it's hard for Jules to consistently eat all her own food. It causes it's own set of issues.

It's been hard. We've cried a lot. We haven't always been patient.

Yet, slowly but surely she has been making progress. The whole month of November was amazing. She was calm, she was controlled. We had very few meltdowns. December has been harder because everywhere she goes someone is giving her a candy cane or sugar cookies or some other delicious cookie treat. Plus, she's on Christmas vacation so she's spending more time around Addie which makes her a little bit tricky. She loves Addie. She loves to hold Addie...even when Addie would rather not be held.

I think we've got her on a good program, and I know it's just something we'll have to stick to for awhile or maybe forever. She's smart enough to know that we're trying, and we've seen enough of her good moments to know that she's trying too.

And now she's five.

We celebrated with a Snowman Brrrrrthday Party last week. All the Family Farm cousins came.

Jules decorated her snowman cake, and it was full of wheat, dairy, sugar and red dye. And that's how it goes sometimes.

My favorite part? Jules spelled out her name in pretzel bits at the top. Jules favorite part? The Starburst candy I shaped into buttons (and a nose).

We had soup, watched a slide show about the day Jules was born, sang, ate birthday cake, and recognized this amazing little person whose emotions--the ups and downs--overflow onto all those who know her.

We love this girl, and are so thankful God gave her to us.

Turning One

Last year I was writing about how I was okay with having a baby on September 11. It turned out that I didn't have a baby on 9/11. She arrived the next afternoon.

And while we could have had a perfectly lovely celebration for Addie tomorrow, we decided to do it today instead.

For one thing, I like weekend birthday parties.

I also like bringing candles and cupcakes to the table on a date that will forever be etched in my mind. Like most of you, I will always vividly recall the events of what happened 10 years ago. But now I have another memory that hugs the sad one.

Ten years ago I cried and wondered about the future.

One year ago I smiled and wondered about the future.

What a difference a baby makes.

And so on a hot Sunday afternoon, everyone on the Family Farm along with Jason's parents gathered together to celebrate Addie and tell her how happy we are that she was born.

Even though it was a relatively low key affair, I'm always up for a little birthday fun. So I made up the invitations,

although I admit the alphabet idea is not original with me (I got the idea here). Considering the photographic year that Addie has had, I thought an alphabet themed party would be appropriate.

 

(ABC bucket and "A" coasters from Target's $2 aisle)

Personalized frame from Personalization Mall. I have one for each of the girls.

Sometimes I go overboard on the food. And sometimes I get a little stressed out about going overboard on the food. So today, I just kept it easy since it was after lunch time and closer to snack time. I like snacks. Today's snacks consisted of fruit kabobs, veggies, chips, and cupcakes. Simple stuff.

The skewers were a big hit with the kids. Fortunately, no major injuries reported. Jules did poke her hand, but quickly recovered. *whew*

And of course, the party wouldn't have been be complete without showcasing some of Addie's best (alphabetized) moments.

Despite not having a nap, Addie was a happy birthday girl and amazed us all once again at her good naturedness.

What would we do without our Addie-kins?

We just love that baby!

9 & 8 & 14 years

The Family Farm cousins unite again!

They didn't have to dress up, clean up, wash their face, put on costumes or sing songs--they just had to get together and smile at the camera. And honestly, I would have been happy even if they weren't smiling. Initially, I wanted them in birth order, but that would have required handfuls of candy which I didn't have on me. The birth order? It's close. Close-ish, anyway. Sarah helped keep the kids from tumbling down the slide, and also got Miss Addie to smile. We gave each other a dozen high fives at the end since none of the kids would give them to us.

Hooray for the Family Farm cousins!

And hooray for summer hats!

I have a thing for hats on babies. I just love them. I don't do bows or ribbons on her head, but I do love a sweet hat.

Alas, Addie is done with hats. She likes to play with them, but there is zero chance she will wear them for any length of time unless I trick her into it (and by "trick," I mean put it on her head while she's sleeping; and by "sleeping," I mean holding her as she snoozes in the sun).

Only 7 more weeks until someone turns one! Wow!

*

And speaking of 9 and 8...

9 + 8 = 17.

17 - (the number of children we have) = 14.

14 is how many years we've been married as of today.

Unfortunately, that math equation was more exciting than our anniversary was. We had plans for dinner and a movie, but ongoing behaviorial issues with one of the girls derailed that plan. So we did nothing.

I wouldn't say we were happy with how that turned out (we were actually quite the opposite of happy, if you must know), but fortunately (FORTUNATELY!!!) we did see Harry Potter over the weekend (loved it) and just a few days ago we bought tickets to see Jerry Seinfeld's act at the end of September. So, an early movie and a belated comic night will have to stand in for today's lack of anything.

And fortunately, no matter how un-amazing today was, I still feel amazed at having married a wonderful man. (Love you, shmoopie.)

Let Fourdom Rein

I mentioned, yes? that Jules turned four? In passing? Oh dear. Well, we grandly celebrated it at home, even if it didn't quite make its way onto the blog. It's been three weeks since Jules birthday, and let's just say better late than never and call it good.

In honor of the birthday girl, I present...Turning Four, in four-part harmony.

THE INVITE

 

I should mention that creating an invitation of this sort will befuddle beginning readers. Sydney was all, "That's not how you spell rain, Mom." And because she is a girl after my own heart, after my explanation she was tickled pink to "get" the homophone between reign and reindeer. One sign that you live in an English teacher's house is that homophones are very exciting.

THE CAKE

Jules had been planning her birthday party ever since she turned three. Most notably, she wanted a purple unicorn pinata that occasionally hangs in the pinata aisle at Winco. I say occasionally because I believe it must be quite popular since almost as soon as they put it up, someone buys it. That particular aisle is the last one Jules and I go down when we're grocery shopping, and we're always looking. She had a back-up plan if the unicorn didn't work out (a humongous flower pinata that I kept reminding her was too expensive), but fortunately we didn't have to resort to Plan B. Even though I wasn't about to buy her birthday pinata six months in advance, I did start looking two months in advance. And it got pretty close: four days before her birthday I finally spotted the coveted purple unicorn pinata and bought it. Whew.

And because Jules had unicorns and Christmas on the brain at the same time, she wanted a rainbow reindeer unicorn birthday cake.

Fortunately, I've made a variation of this horsey cake so many times that I knew where to start.

She and I sketched it out, and then got started.

I always knew I was going to use a sugar cone for the unicorn horn. But the antlers I knew I'd need to create somehow. I thought about using pipe cleaners, but then just decided to go all out.

So I got big pretzel sticks, and started piecing broken bits of pretzels to the side. I thought it was looking quite clever, but I never got as far as assembling them with frosting because Jules nixed the idea. "No," she said, "I want the antlers on the horn."

Ergo, antlers on the horn.

For ease of decorating, I put the cone on the top of a bottle, and then as soon as the antlers were kinda sticking to the horn, I put the whole thing in the freezer. I didn't trust those antlers not to fall off.

The finished cake.

 

I could have gone the route of making this kind of rainbow cake, but that would have been one seriously tall reindeer unicorn cake. So, the M&M's were plenty of rainbowliciousness.

She loved it, and that is what mattered.

THE PARTY

Jules gave me specific instructions for how the party was to go down. It should be like Soup Night, except it would be, of course, better because it was her birthday. She was initially disappointed when the first few guests arrived and didn't wish her a happy birthday. "Mama," she whispered after someone arrived, "they didn't say happy birthday to me!" I assured her they would, and eventually they did. Good thing.

For fun, we had plenty of reindeer antlers on hand for all the kiddos to wear, and then I had all the supplies and tags ready for them to make reindeer food but we kind of ran out of time and none of the kids were the wiser since they were just happy to be taking home bags of candy from the pinata (which I refrained from calling reindeer guts). It was fun and jolly and perfect.

THE GIRL

Oh, our spicy sweet girl.

She's our high-spirited one, our one who loves to help, who will continually offer to help and get more than a little annoyed if she is not allowed to help. She loves to snuggle, loves to help in the kitchen, loves to haul her baby sister around the house. She's taught me a lot about myself and about being a parent because she waves her emotions like a bright pink flag no matter what.

A bright pink, multi-striped flag that she will passionately whack you over the head with in order to get your attention.

She's smart and energetic and determined. One minute she's shy and quiet and eager to please, and then the next minute she's kicked you in the shins and dumped out a bottle of fish food.

She makes us breathe deeply and often.

That's our girl, all forty-one and a half inches. Little Miss Jubilation with the size 12 feet and the Shirley Temple hair.  Our girl who loves to drink tea, loves to make silly faces, loves to go grocery shopping, and who isn't the least bit daring unless you take her on a motorcycle ride.

Even though her favorite flavor is vanilla, don't let it fool you. She's spicy. Real spicy.

Good thing we love spicy. It really does make everything better.

{Her birth story here then here.}

And Summer Ended

Big day here on the farm.

First of all, Sydney started first grade.

First grade.

Full days, every day, with a new teacher, at a new school that has lots of kids, compared to the itty bitty pre-school/Kindergarten Syd attended last year where Grandma Sharon was her teacher. We were both a little nervous about today.

Here she's showing off her knee-high socks--her first pair and quite photo worthy evidently--along with her Ariel backpack. Our morning routine has been made significantly easier by the school's use of uniforms. They certainly didn't save me any money (she wouldn't have needed any back-to-school clothes), but no major complaints on my part.

I didn't cry when I took her to school, didn't cry when I walked her into her classroom, didn't cry when I walked out of the classroom. I did tear up a little bit talking to the Starbucks barista (who also happens to be our neighbor) as she handed me my decaf pumpkin spice latte that I got right after dropping Sydney off at school, but nothing major. I have, however, cried buckets over the past couple days fretting that she wouldn't have anyone to eat lunch with.

Can you imagine it? My little cutie pie, sitting by herself, new girl at school, and no one sitting next to her at lunch? The idea of it seriously traumatized me. (Partially because I have my own story to tell of sitting all by myself at lunch on the first day of school.)

Fortunately...

Sydney's desk is next to another little girl who is also new to the school--a little girl who is just a cute as a button and friendly as all get out--and they ate lunch together. Thank you, Jesus, for new friends.

The second big thing on the farm: my sister got on a plane this afternoon and is on her way to Glasgow, Scotland, and--aside from Skype--I won't see her again for two years.

I've been bawling my eyes out about it all week.

She'll be missed.

Dreadfully.

She'll be dreadfully missed.

I'm happy for her that she's finally fulfilling her dream of pursuing her masters degree in creative writing (at the University of Glasgow), but I'm really really really sad she's gone.

Really.

And I think Miss Baby is also really sad that Aunt Andrea isn't going to be around to see her. I know babies don't always express their emotions very clearly--particularly unborn babies--but I'm pretty sure she was majorly bummed today when we left Andrea at the airport. Definitely no happy kicking around in my belly.

To help dig us out of our misery and to celebrate the first day of school, we threw a little after-school party for all the Family Farm kids.

Today was Clover's first day of 1st grade, and Amanda had her first day of 2nd grade. They weren't quite as nervous about school as Syd because Clover is being cleverly homeschooled by my uber-talented sis-in-law Sarah, and Amanda is returning to the school she's been attending.

Nervousness or not, cupcakes are always a good thing.

I let the kiddos frost and decorate the cupcakes themselves, a trick that made Jules declare this "the best party ever." That girl never fails to make me feel good about my decisions that involve sugar, sprinkles, or more sugar. The pinata was also roundly cheered. Probably because I said they could eat as much candy as they wanted. (For the record, Jules at THREE cupcakes.)

Even Jarred, the big kid of the Family Farm, enjoyed some cupcakes. Surviving your first day of 8th grade is no small task. I appreciated that he isn't too cool to turn down cupcakes even if most of the party goers are girls in elementary school.

And, of course, cupcakes for the Mama Teacher.

It was a good day, a big day, a day to remember. But it definitely marked the end of summer with its first day of school/pumpkin spice latte/rain falling from the sky-ness.

And for all the celebration and hoorays for school, tonight the Family Farm is missing someone who helped make our summer so super duper fabulous.

September has arrived, and even though it brings and will continue to bring great things, it's still a little hard to let go of summer. At least, that's what these big ole' tears in my eyes are telling me.

Week 318: Love is a burrito, a cartoon, and frozen custard

 
(photo from June 2002)

Thirteen years ago I married my best friend. We had dated long enough to know what we were getting into. He knew I was a little bit on the roller-coaster-emotional side; I knew he was a bit on the always-on-time side. There were no surprises, except that he didn't like mac-n-cheese (oddly coincidental that my dad also hates mac-n-cheese) and I could never put my shoes where they belonged.

He still doesn't like mac-n-cheese.

I still don't put my shoes where they belong. Or my sunglasses. Or the car keys.

*

Since the girls were both staying overnight with grandparents on Friday, we celebrated our anniversary a few days early. We had dinner at Baja Fresh, saw "Despicable Me" (funny and kid-friendly, btw), and had frozen custard for dessert. It was fabulous because we were together. Memorable? Probably not so much. Maybe more memorable? The anniversary gift we're giving to each other in the form of having all the bedrooms professionally painted.

Certainly, we've had the fancy anniversary celebrations: the year we went back to Maine; the years we've gone to the beach; the gourmet dinners out. And we've had the non-fancy celebrations: the years we spent writing papers due for our grad classes the next day; the year we saw "Harry Potter" (which I rank as the lamest anniversary ever for reasons beyond just the movie); the year we spent at home staring at our 2-month old daughter.

It's just like our marriage. Sometimes the moments are amazing and memorable and sometimes they aren't. And sometimes you purposefully forget them because maybe they were moments where you didn't shine. It's okay.

*

I asked Jason if this was the hardest year we've had, what with my severe prenatal depression and his being unemployed. He said no. In fact, he said there haven't been any hard years.

"They've all been good years because things have always been good between us."

When you marry your best friend that's what you get: good years. Lots of them.

All of them.

Party Like You're Six, part 2

Even though I'm not an ambitious baker, for the past few years I've enjoyed doing creative cakes for the girls' birthdays. I admit, I'm a little more creative with Syd's cakes than Jules'. Sydney has had two horsey cakes and two butterfly cakes; Jules had a J/candy cane cake and a requested non-fancy red/green coconut cake (I say requested because I know some people think it's just wrong to make December birthday cake look too Christmas-y, but Jules and I don't seem to mind holiday-themed cakes).

This year I asked Sydney what kind of cake she wanted.

"I want a cake of a dog running after a cat!"

Clearly the girls have kittens on the brains, and while I suspect that a dog/cat fiasco picture would be really funny for the 6 and under set, I couldn't quite formulate a baking plan with those directions.

I know. Kittens are cute. Kittens are funny. Kittens with princess crowns on their head are especially amusing.

But I suggested she might want to go in a different direction. Particularly since she had wanted a fairy princess themed birthday party.

Her new instructions: "Fairies. Chocolate cake. Pink frosting with purple flowers. And Happy Birthday Sydney written in white frosting, in cursive." The cursive part was very important because that's Sydney's new thing--writing everything in cursive.

Those are the kind of specifics I can work with (even though my cursive was a bit lacking).

I baked the cake in two springform pans (actually 3, but then at the last minute decorating a 3-tired cake seemed a bit overwhelming). It's chocolate cake, and buttercream frosting (that I was going to make from scratch and then decided that store bought was perfectly fine), and I piped on the frosting with Sarah's cake decorating tips. I also remembered some advice from Andrea--she having learned some insight from watching the Cake Boss--and applied a frosting crumb coat. Thank goodness I did that or I would have been stressed out.

Not only did Syd help decorate/art direct/supervise the cake project, she also set up this whole photograph. Put the cake here. I'll sit here. With these bee-you-tee-full flowers. Oh, and on the right side there--where you have the two white candles and then the one pink candle--those need to be switched around so they form a better pattern. Mmm hmm. She's definitely my daughter.

(Photo pre-candle switcheroo) I ended up surprising her with the fairy on top. It so happened to be her "second favorite present ever!" so hooray for me. Evidently the fairy's official name is Rosetta (one of Tinkerbell's fairy posse), but we call her Lisa. That's a very nice name for a fairy, don't you think?

I wish I could say that I did something fancy for the food, and then I could--as Tamara requested--show you pictures of the amazing adult food. But really, it was just regular food. It was good food, but it wasn't anything fancy. I had thought about doing something fancy, ie: more labor intensive. But when I mentioned this idea to Jason, he said, "How about we just do something from Costco?" And 100 points to him for being practical and realizing that his easily stressed-out wife did not need to be fussing over food. So that's what we did. It was a perfectly wonderful lunch, and the best part was that I didn't have to spend a million hours in the kitchen.

I didn't even have to cut the cake; my sisters did that (I love Andrea and Sarah).

So, there you have it. Sydney's dream birthday party: the special cake, the fairy wings, the company of friends and family.

And, of course, presents. Sydney loved everything she got--she's not one of those kids who thinks that new clothes are boring--although thanks to her grandparents there was one present in particular that she's crazy about.

 

Watch out, world. Here comes a fantastic six-year-old.

Week 310: Party Like You're Six, part 1

We have had the most spectacularly awful weather this year. Sopping wet, grey clouded, soul damaging rain that persists day after day. When it started raining at 1 o'clock yesterday afternoon, I stood at the kitchen sink and cried. Even though you're not supposed to (ever) count on sunny weather in the Pacific Northwest, I just couldn't take another day of rain. Especially on the day of Sydney's birthday party.

Jason, my dad, and Andrea worked outside in the rain anyway. They put up the tables and chairs. Put up the canopy tent. Blew up balloons and tied them to posts. We had 30 people coming over, and no matter what, this party was happening outside. As I mixed lemonade and emptied cans of olives into bowls, I prayed fervently for the rain to stop. I admit that my prayers were less-than-holy what with the all the swearing I might have been mixing into the request.

And then...magic happened. Or rather--since I was praying after all--God decided to answer my bitterness with some sweetness.

It stopped raining.

And it stayed dry until after the party ended, at which point it started pouring down rain again. By then it didn't matter. We got in our celebration, and it was a wonderfully sweet afternoon.

*

Several weeks ago, when I asked Sydney what kind of birthday party she wanted, she said she wanted a fairy princess party. I started with the invitations, and then Google helped me track down some other ideas. Even though I'm not usually into party favors (and by "usually" I mean, we've never done them before), I decided to do something fun this year.

There were jingling fairy wands.

And fabulous fairy wings (both ordered and nicely delivered from Halo Heaven (their link doesn't appear to be working at the moment, but I'm sure they'll get it up and running shortly)).

Since I decided to break my avoidance of party favors, I also decided that I might as well do some kind of party activity. I know. It's like I was throwing a full-fledged children's birthday party or something.

Fortunately, my party activity didn't involve me doing anything (except taking pictures) because I don't have the personality to organize kids into games with rules.

Also fortunately, all we needed for our activity--a fairy wing adventure--was our atv mule, some flowering bushes, and about six acres of swamp and forests.

You know. Just your run-of-the-mill party supplies.

The girls loaded into the mule, and with a little sprinkling of fairy dust were off to search for their very own fairy wings that the fairies had left behind in the places that fairies hide. (That would be flowering bushes, for you non-imaginative sort.)

It doesn't seem to matter that five of these girls are Family Farmers and get mule rides all the time. A mule ride is exciting no matter what. Yes, I admit it. Even I love a good mule ride.

Clover finds her wings!

 

Aunt Andrea served as the guide/driver/wing attacher. She was a pro.

As the little girls were off searching, the adults were enjoying some tasty sandwiches and other assorted yummies. I've been a parent long enough to know that an uninterrupted meal is a lovely gift, no matter how old you are.

Eventually, all the little fairies made their way back to the party, and got to sit at their very own table.

 

Yes, indeed, Sydney had seen little personalized stickers in some sort of birthday magazine I had laying around, and then had requested them. Fortunately for her, I'm rather handy in Photoshop and in using pre-made circular labels (following a template in Word). And per Sydney's instructions, the stickers managed to find their way onto the napkins and cups (Jason thought it was alternately cute/creepy to see Sydney's face adorned on so many surfaces). I figured my daughter has had to endure a mother with severe pre-natal depression. The least I can do is humor her birthday wishes.

After the food, came the cake (which I'll write about later this week), and after the cake, the presents.

After the presents, the girls spent the rest of the party time jumping on the trampoline.

That, my dear people, is how we party: with mule rides, fairy wings, sugar, and a trampoline. Obviously, the nice weather is also a helpful ingredient. Or, if you're like me, nice weather is a mandatory ingredient.

Thankfully, we got the weather.

Also thankfully, I have a good crew of family who helped me pull the party together.

*

From Sydney afterward: "I loved loved loved my birthday party."

If it had been raining, I'm sure it still would have been a good party. But especially because it wasn't raining, then it was magical and wonderful...and perfect. Just like Sydney deserved.

And then we partied

 

Week 298: Feet, peddling, balance, and away she goes

"I want to learn to ride my bike today," she said as we were enjoying Saturday's gorgeous weather.

"Well, Dad will be home in a little bit." The Biking Riding Project has been more of Jason's thing than mine. But Grandma Nancy was quick to capitalize on Sydney's idea, always the best route to take with sometimes fickle 5 year olds.

"All right! Let's go!" said my mom, and Sydney ran to the house to get her bike helmet as Grandma Nancy took the training wheels off.

I ran to the house to grab my camera, thinking this day--one of glorious sunshine and spring magic in the air--might be the day for a photo moment.

By the time I got outside--a mere 30 seconds after Sydney--she had done it.

I think she might have been secretly practicing without us, and then secretly putting the training wheels back on before we caught on. She was a rock star.

All she needed was a little push from Grandma, and away she went, peddling furiously on the undersized hand-me-down bike that we have been reluctant to replace on account of her having no ambition to learn to really ride a bike. This lack of ambition has been perhaps a bit of a sore spot for her athletic coaching dad. There's no crying in baseball, am I right?

Ambition, meet Sydney. Sydney, meet Ambition. No tears.

She paused long enough from zooming up and down the driveway to instruct me to take a picture of her next to her bike without training wheels.

It was a scream happy day, and one for the imaginary book that keeps track of milestones.

Sydney's delight was enough to inspire her cousin Amanda to try out bike riding sans training wheels, and Grandma (Great-Aunt Nancy to Amanda) was 2 for 2 in teaching bike riding skills.

Sydney cheered Amanda on, and eventually they were riding all over the place: up and down the driveways to show everyone their new trick. Lots of cheering from everyone here on the Family Farm.

I couldn't be prouder. Sydney isn't always very adventurous, but there was something about Saturday that inspired her. She just needed a little push, and away she went, discovering the sheer joy in peddling from here to there. Sometimes that's all any of us need. A little push, and away we go.

I managed to capture a few seconds of her adventure. Someday, when she and her daddy bike across the country, she can point to the day that her feet and her balance learned to work together.♥

Video: 45 seconds.

Week 287: Thirds

For her birthday party on Sunday, I made three different kinds of soups, three different kinds of breads, three different kinds of desserts, three different kinds of drinks, and had three different appetizers. (And eventually had to take a three-hour nap to recover from all the birthday wonderfulness...)

But the most important thing was the birthday girl, and there is only one just like her.

Only one little Jules who would ask for a coconut cake with red and green coconut sprinkled on it, only one who was smiling so much it took her three passes at trying to get all those birthday candles blown out, and only one who at the end of the party--when I was exhausted from having stayed up almost night cooking and cleaning--came up to me and said, "Thank you, Mama. I yuved my birthday party."

 Oh my sweet girl, we're all so happy (and perhaps even relieved) that you're now three years old. I think I've wanted to you be three since you started walking at nine months old, and now you've finally arrived and we've been feeling better about three-dom for a few weeks now. No more diapers. No more hitting. No more furniture and book destruction. A little mellower. Totally adjusted to the nap-free schedule we adopted last summer. And even though the tears still come mostly every day, and even though there is still some work to be done on a particular tone of voice you like to use, we are just having so much fun these days, aren't we? Because you at three is just exactly perfect, and I simply can't get enough of you. More kisses, more hugs, more dancing in the living room--I could just eat you up, you're so sweet. Not just seconds, but thirds of all your exuberance and hilarity and silliness.

Love you with all I have, Jubals. 

I'll always remember that you're my 30th birthday wish come true.

{Pictures from Sarah. More pictures here.}

Week 272: First Day of School

All summer long Sydney has been waiting for the first day of kindergarten. "Is it tomorrow?" she'd ask multiple times a week. No, not tomorrow. After we go on vacation.

We went on vacation, and when we got back we had to consult a calendar (regularly) to assure Sydney that she would, in fact, be going to school eventually.

The day came last Wednesday. The First Day of School.

She picked out her own outfit and hair accessory. Per usual, she looked adorable. These days I am not consulted much in the way of wardrobe, and since mostly everything in her closet has some element of pink, they all coordinate together pretty well. There was no doubt she'd be wearing a dress, no doubt she'd have on her shiny new glasses, and absolutely no doubt she was ready for school.

Was I ready for her to go to school?

Yep.

I briefly thought about getting sentimental and weepy, but then decided not to. No doubt my calmness is due to the fact that Sydney attends a small pre-school/kindergarten where there are few variables to worry about. It's the same school she has visited frequently over the past year, the same classroom she visited weekly for a church related event. Most importantly, Sydney's kindergarten teacher is her grandma and her bestest cousin Clover is her classmate.

I suppose, in a sense, it's not a true test of my willingness to let Sydney grow up just yet. She's not riding a school bus, not in a classroom full of strangers, not with a teacher I don't know. Next year, when we have to make a real decision about where she goes to school, I'll probably be considerably more anxious. But next year is next year, and I'm not looking that far ahead just yet. Let me bask in my zen moment for right now.

As for this year, I can't wait to see what Sydney learns. She may be reserved at times, she might occasionally be quiet, but when it comes down to it, she's the kid who jumps on the rollercoaster, throws her arms in the air and screams for joy.

(Video: Sydney on a rollercoaster--13 seconds)

Ah, my sweet Sydney, school is one ride I know you'll love.

Week 267: Brave New World

A couple weeks ago, we enrolled Sydney in a swim class. Well, technically, Sarah enrolled Sydney in the same class Clover was taking. I don't know what I'd do without my sister-in-law. She's fabulous.

I'm a firm believer in kids knowing how to swim, and since Syd spends so much time by the water down at the creek then it's good for her to be aware of some water safety stuff.

Even though Syd loves getting into her swimsuit, she had been a little bit hesitant about hanging out in the water. Also, she hates having water on her face with the kind of passion I normally only reserve for mushrooms (although I don't think I would burst into tears should a mushroom land on my face).

Sydney paid attention in class, and got some practice blowing bubbles and kicking and all things water related. I sat on the sidelines and cheered her on. I told her how good she was doing, how proud I was of her, how much fun water was.

And in between cheering her on, I kept my mouth shut because the truth is this: I don't like water much. I don't like swimming. I'm petrified of lakes and the ocean and deep spots in the river. I saw "Jaws" at a young and impressionable age and that pretty much did me in for the rest of my life, although I have been known to suck it up and go waterskiing or wakeboarding. I've also been known to hyperventilate in the water when I'm done waterskiing.

There's a difference between passing along caution and passing along phobias. My deal with water doesn't need to be Sydney's deal with water.

Once she learned about the safety of wearing a lifejacket, the world of water opened up to her. She was excited, and the past couple weeks when we've gone down to the creek she's been putting on her life jacket and getting in the water. She even goes in the murky spots I don't go in. I resist the urge to panic--not for her safety but out of a lifelong habit for my own safety--and instead try to celebrate with her.

I want Sydney to be brave, to try new things, to not pick up on the small fears I have. She is not naturally a brave kid, but my enthusiasm for roller coasters and performing in front of people has rubbed off on her, and that's good. It's probably too late to convince her that bugs are okay (I'm not irrational about them, but I do not like to touch them). But water? Maybe she'll learn to love water.

In fact, she has learned to like water a great deal. And I watch in amazement as this little person does things I wouldn't, as she does things her own way with her own sense of accomplishment. I want that for her, to be strong at what I'm strong at, but also to be strong at things I'm weak in. I'll cheer her on.

Speaking of doing things her own way...

This little person decided to potty train herself. It was not our idea--we didn't really want to be doing the whole potty training thing while we were on vacation--but she had her own ideas, which is just exactly how she is. She decided one day about two weeks ago that she was done with diapers. I admit that I kind of discouraged her from giving up diapers (probably on one of those days she was on the toilet every half hour or so), but she was not to be deterred. Frankly, I think she potty trained herself to spite me. That also is exactly how she is.

It's her own accomplishment, through and through, with very little help on my part except to feed her candy habit as reward.

That's how it is. You wake up one day and suddenly your kids have outgrown you and your fears.

I'm okay with that. In fact, considering I don't have to do diapers anymore AND I have a new little buddy to go on the rides with me at Disney World, I'm more than okay. I'm celebrating.

1000th Post

Here's one reason why you photograph fireworks: to show a little celebration. This marks my 1000th Typepad blog post! How about that. It took me four-and-a-half years to get here, which averages out to about 20 posts a month. Not too shabby. Some months I did more (like the years I blogged every day in November for NaBloPoMo); some I did less (like when Jules was born). But I got here because clearly I had something to say.

That seems to pretty much always be the case.

I've tried to think of how to mark the occasion...

I could give away $1000, except I don't have $1000 to give away.

I could write a 1000 word essay about how blogging has changed my life. Eh. No doubt someone's already done that. 

I could go leave 1000 comments on blog posts/Facebook updates. I think that's about how far behind I am (unpacking and organizing the house has made me a terrible blogger/friend/emailer...at least I have Google Reader helping me out). 

One thousand things about me would be ridiculous. Even 100 things about me doesn't seem like much fun.

Let's go with Ten Random Things About Me and call it good.

1. I started running a few weeks ago. Sarah and I decided that we needed to insert a little exercise into our day, so we thought we'd start running (after all, she's even done a marathon, so she's no stranger to running). Off we go, our double strollers leading the way. I can now say that I can successfully run 5 miles without passing out. Progress.
2. I had the flu yesterday. It was terrible, and I didn't like it one bit. The upside is that I lost 2 pounds. That being said, I'd say I'm two flues away from my ideal weight.
3. This has not been a good reading year for me. I've hardly done any reading at all because I've been too distracted by Life and Transitions (they rightfully deserve uppercase letters). Some people read to escape, but I don't. I need to be in a good place emotionally before I can read. Which explains why I read very little when I taught high schoolers.
4. Some day I'd like to own a vacation house at the beach. If I won the lottery, a vacation house in Kauai would be nice; sans a multi-million dollar prize, I'd settle for the Oregon coast. Heck, I'd settle for just owning a house here on the farm.
5. My new favorite audiobook is Charlotte's Web. I love that book more than words can say.
6. I used to have my eyebrow pierced, and I've often thought of doing that again. Or maybe I'll get a tattoo on my foot. I won't tell my parents if I do get one though because they will. freak. out.
7. I have never visited North or South Carolina. I'd like to, but can't think of a good reason why I should.
8. My favorite ice cream is daiquiri ice (not technically an ice cream), which I think is only sold at Baskin & Robbins. One year for my birthday, my parents bought me a 10 gallon barrel of daiquiri ice. It was...a lot.
9. I really wish I owned the movie P.S. I Love You. I don't know why I don't. That's not a hint for someone to get it for me; it's just an observation.
10. I am very particular about having things clean. Oddly, however, I am not at all good about having things tidy. As a result, our house leans toward being messy, though very clean.

So, there you go. And if you were really itching to learn 990 more things about me, well, just peruse my archives. I can't imagine you'll get too far without discovering I'm kind of an emotionally crazy person who likes to read, tell stories, and take pictures.

Somehow my husband loves me anyway. And much to my surprise and constant delight, I think some of you folks tolerate me pretty well too. So, I'll see what I can do about writing up another 1000 posts.

Be forewarned though: I think it'll take me awhile.

Week 261: The one that ends with a wedding

It's a big week. It'll be impossible for me to capture everything in words, but parts of it will be captured in photos. One part specifically will probably be capture in hundreds of photos.

It won't be Monday, the day that Sydney starts swimming lessons, although I'm sure I'll get a few pictures of that.

It won't be Tuesday, the day that Sydney's hair gets trimmed at the salon (as a result of me haphazardly chopping two inches off).

It won't be Tuesday night, when Jason comes home from his trip (hallelujah, praise God for Tuesday night).

It won't be Wednesday, the day that we pack up all our belongings in our Salem apartment and say goodbye forever to our beloved Oregon phone number that we've had all our married lives.

It won't be Thursday, the day that Jason packs up his classroom and says farewell to a school he has loved teaching at.

The pictures will start Friday evening, and then continue all day Saturday.

The blessed event? Rebekah is getting married.

It would be exciting enough that the World's Best Nanny is getting married, but there is a little something extra that makes it even more exciting: Sydney is the flower girl.

While being a flower girl is a plenty big honor, the real perk of flower girl duties is THE DRESS. Spinny princess dresses fill approximately 78% of Sydney's dreams (the other 22% being divided equally between princesses and ballerinas and kittens). And this one does not disappoint.

She got to try it on a few weeks ago when we went to a bridal shower for Rebekah.

Sydney took her duty seriously and helped unwrap presents.

Unwrapping presents AND a spinny flower girl dress? Does get any better?

Not likely. Check out her shirt, by the way (it says Flower Girl).

I got to thinking I probably shouldn't have cut Sydney's hair until after the wedding, but it'll be fine. She still looks cute as a button.

And we could always add some ribbons if we need to.

Yep, big week. My little girl is in her first wedding.

You can bet I'll be crying--at Sydney, at Rebekah, at the end of a week that'll be marked by beautiful beginning. I'm a sucker for weddings...and for adorable flower girls.

It's Never Too Late for Pictures of Cupcakes

In the midst of all the packing and unpacking (thankfully, not of the same box or then you'd know I had totally gone off the deep end), I neglected to post pictures of Sydney's birthday bbq. Here's a smattering of the day's festivities, and if you're so inclined you can click on a photo and be transported to the Flickr set for more pictures.

Since the weather was hot enough for swimming, I decided to have the party down at the creek. It's usually a couple degrees cooler there, and then the kids can swim and all is well. Plus, we'd never had a full-blown birthday party at the creek, and I like being original like that. Or difficult. The line between the two is a bit thin.

It requires a little bit of extra work having parties at the creek.

There is a certain amount of finesse required to get a bbq down a steep hill. I didn't see how it got to the creek, but as if by magic, it was there when I got there. The BBQ fairies delivered it, I guess. Just like they delivered the tables and chairs. I love the BBQ fairies. They're so handy.

Sydney had requested a butterfly cake, so I did my best.

I was happy with how it turned out. I'm totally converted to icing in sandwich baggies. They're a cake decorating miracle.

I knew the cake wouldn't feed everyone, so I did some cupcakes as well.

That blue icing? It was purple until I took the cupcakes outside. And then the sun turned them blue. Fortunately, Sydney saw them when they were purple and so she didn't mind the color shift. Icing in baggies was again my decorating trick. As well as microwaved canned frosting to dip the cupcakes in. Makes them smooth. Or in my case, "smooth-ish."

I got my cupcakes tips and inspiration from this book. If you like creative cupcakes, you need this book. It's very cool.

All in all, it was a great afternoon. A little song,

a little sand,

and some big smiles

(that would be my super adorable nephew smiling like he always does).

Several of us stayed down at the creek long after the party ended, watching the kids build sand castles, the swallows swooping across the water. It was a perfect day for the greatest little five year-old I know.

Week 258: You get one guess why yesterday was important

It was a Saturday, two hundred and fifty-eight weeks ago, that the celebration began.

And life has never been the same since.

Week 257: My daughter has a dancing heart

This was a big weekend for Sydney. I prepared myself by getting a new memory card and batteries for my camera, and an 1T external hard drive to handle all the pictures (as well as a few others that I'll be taking over the course of my life). There were pictures to be snapped and video to be taken. Earlier in the week I sewed part of a costume. I bought brand new tights. I practiced doing Sydney's make-up and hair.

It was dance recital weekend.

We were prepared.

There was a near disaster Friday night when Sydney's ears started hurting again, and she was absolutely miserable. "I know I can't cry for my recital," she sobbed, "but my ears hurrrrrt. I'll be *sob* brave though. Because no one *sob* likes to see a dancer cry." I promise I did not give her a "The Show Must Go On" speech. She is just very much her mother's daughter.

Fortunately, Grandma Sharon came to the rescue and took Sydney to urgent care to get some antibiotics. One dose and the pain subsided. (As for why I didn't take Sydney myself...it all happened while we were hearing Jerry Seinfeld's act.) Whew.

Saturday morning, I woke up with laryngitis which was the perfect blend of chaos that we needed to go with Sydney's reduced hearing. I couldn't talk loudly; she couldn't hear. We were like the pre-school version of Abbott and Costello. What did you say? Talk louder! What?

It was okay though because really all I had to do was clap and whistle at the performance. I wasn't in charge, and I had very few directions to give. It was Sydney's moment in the spotlight, and I didn't need to be messing it up with extra speeches or unnecessary advice. I didn't even have to take pictures because I had taken pictures at the dress rehearsal so I wouldn't have to fuss with anything during the performance.

She did marvelously.

She was a tap dancing penguin. Probably one of the prettiest little tap dancing penguins you've ever seen. It was a growing year for her, learning this new style of dance. Sydney is more drawn to ballet and the graceful movements, but she learned to love the sounds of tap and the ability to make her feet noisy. Even though her class did both ballet and tap, the primary focus was on tap.

She's learned all sorts of amazing things. Shuffle hop stamp. Four-count riffs. Five-count riffs. It's a different kind of movement than the usual twirling and leaping, but it was so good for her to be stretched.

It helps that her teachers are amazing. So professional. So talented. The choreography for the advanced ballet class was incredible. One of the saddest things about moving from Salem is that we won't be back at Discovery School of Dance next year. Sydney has been in Ms. Erin's class for two years now, and although we've been making the hour-plus drive for her class for a couple months now, it's not really practical. So we're in search of a new school.

As I watched Sydney perform, I couldn't have been prouder. I was excited for her, knowing how much she wanted to do a good job; I was relieved that everything went well; I was amazed that this little person has grown into a little girl who teaches me what she's learned at school.

"Oh!" she gushed afterwards. "We did it! I loved it!" She couldn't stop smiling. Neither could I.

My little dancer who learned the thrill of clicking and tapping and stomping her feet...Bravo.

*

Here's video (2:48) from the dress rehearsal (which explains the noisy background). Sydney is 3rd in from the left.

Sydney's Dance Recital (rehearsal) from creature bug on Vimeo.

Week 250: Ah, dear Oregon. I knew thee well.

On this day, the 250th-week anniversary of being a parent, I, Stephanie of Creature Bug, do not-so-solemnly announce that life in Oregon as I know it is officially done.

Although we still have stuff in an apartment in Salem--Jason still lives there during the week--my life now  happens here on the Family Farm, in my grandparents' house that my grandma no longer lives in since she lives next door with my parents now.

My clothes are here. The pantry is stocked. The fridge is full. All our mail has a Washington address. I have a phone number that begins with a new area code. I still teach in Salem, and still have my Oregon driver's license, but not for much longer.

It's true that I grew up here on this land, living here until I was 18 years old. But I lived in Salem for 15 years--fifteen adult years, which is considerably different than 18 childhood years. I went to college there, got a teaching job there, attended church there. I had my babies in the Salem hospital, walked along the sidewalks with my kids in a stroller. I read the newspaper almost daily, and visited the library weekly. I drank more cups of Dutch Brothers coffee than I can count. I've memorized the aisles of the grocery store, the nearest Walmart, and Costco.

I know the names of all the high schools, know the nearest parks, know the fastest way to get somewhere in town. I can tell you which direction the one-way streets run, and what roads get traffic at 5 o'clock.

 

Since as an Oregonian I have experienced college, church, graduate school, parenting groups, and employment opportunities, naturally almost all my friends live in Oregon. Although the distance of 70-miles (or more) will curtail spontaneous get-togethers, they'll still have reasons to drive to Portland (if only to visit Powell's), and driving to Portland is a mere 20 minutes for me. We won't be neighbors anymore, but hopefully we won't be strangers either.

Life on this side of the Columbia River feels...different. A lot is the same (same weather, same tv stations, same radio stations, same breakfast every morning), but there are still things to get used to. Sales tax, pumping my own gas, learning the fastest way to get somewhere, figuring out where the pretzels are at the grocery store, remembering I don't have the dial the area code before the phone number like you have to do in Salem: small changes that remind me I'm the new kid in town.

The old way of life was rich with blessings, but the new way will be amazing too. Already the blessings of living on the Family Farm are apparent. Sydney can play outside by herself. Jules can walk to Grandma and Grandpa's house and ask for candy (which she does, being ever the precocious one). There are cousins around to play with, old high school friends to connect with, a huge extended family to depend on.

Yesterday there was a deer in the front yard. Today I noticed the trees in the orchard are starting to blossom. And tonight when I walked outside I could see the stars that were never visible from our home in the city.

Six months of living everywhere and nowhere has made me grateful to finally be somewhere permanently. A year ago I was heartbroken about leaving Salem, but now? Now I'm ready. It's time to put down new roots right next to those old roots that I left behind years ago. There's no fanfare; I'm just declaring today the day to make the change.

And so I say, Goodbye Salem, Oregon--you were a town I grew to love more than I thought possible.

And now, Hello, Southwest Washington. Life is going to be good here.

Week 240: The magic of nine

Not very often do I actually learn something from watching the highly-implausible-yet-somehow-entertaining Numb3rs. But after last night's episode, I did a little bit of research and discovered that the show had indeed taught me something. Plus, according to their website, all the crazy math they use is real, so maybe I'm actually learning more than I thought. Who says watching tv doesn't make you smarter?

Not only did I learn something, but I learned something totally romantic.

As you may know, in Chinese culture certain numbers are considered lucky or unlucky. If you watched any of the Olympic coverage last summer, you may have heard that the reason why the Olympics started on 08/08/08, at eight seconds and eight minutes past 8 o'clock pm, is because the number eight is thought to be a lucky number. So hooray for eights. I can't think of any eights in my life, but I'm okay with that.

What I just learned last night is that the number nine is considered to be magical, especially for weddings, because it sounds the same as the word "long-lasting."

And even though I am not a superstitious person nor do I put any credence in auspicious or inauspicious numbers, when I heard about the magical loveliness of nine I couldn't help but smile.

• Jason's mom is exactly nine months older than his dad.
• Jason's grandma was exactly nine months older than his grandpa.
• Jason's great aunt was exactly nine months older than his great-uncle.
• My mom's birthday is nine days before my dad's birthday.

I don't know about you, but I thought it was lovely thinking about all these long lasting marriages that have a connection with the number nine.

The real reason why I thought about it at all, though, was because yesterday was Jason's birthday.

And his birthday is nine days before my birthday. Somehow that just struck me as romantic and sweet and the-stars-aligned-for-us kind of thing.

Of course, all the coincidences of nines are mostly just a nice story to tell, but if I were one to put any stock in fate and destiny and all that...well, I might just say that Jason and I were meant for each other.

Fate and destiny and nines aside, I still think we're meant for each other. So, happy birthday to my sweet husband, who is definitely going to be one of the most long-lasting figures of my life. *smooch*

Week 239: This day

I woke, not early, but early enough. My first decision was to skip MOPS, even though meeting with those other moms is a highlight of my week. My second decision was to record over last night's episode of House, even though we hadn't watched it yet. No matter. I'll watch it later, and what I most wanted to record was the event of the morning.

We sat on the couch, the girls and I, watching NBC's coverage that was fairly uninteresting for Sydney and Jules, but plenty interesting for me. As the Presidential motorcade wound its way through Washington, D.C., I read If You Give a Cat a Cupcake aloud to the girls.

As the former Presidents walked onto the platform, I taught the girls how to say President Obama.

As the inaugural address was given, I gave Sydney a brief version of history's events that made today so very significant.

And as President Obama walked off the stage, we three girls prayed for our new leader, Jules's hands clasped in prayer, her eyes shut tightly, reciting "Obama" every time she heard me say his name.

They probably won't remember this day, but I will. Not because of the why or the how, or the ends or the means, or the political winds of change. I'll remember it as the first inauguration that has made me cry. I'll remember it because of the who, and because of the many men and women who came before, believing that this day should come. A generation ago, one man had a dream. Many generations before that, another man had a dream. And for a brief moment this morning, as Obama's hand rested on Lincoln's Bible, I couldn't help but feel those dreams tying us all together.

   

That, my friends, is worth remembering.

 
(images from BBC.co.uk)

"So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

'Let it be told to the future world...that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive ... that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it].'

America, in the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations." (from Obama's inaugural address)

Week 236: Gifts, Part Two

Rarely am I relieved to see rain. After all, there's plenty of rain around here, so it becomes rather monotonous. Raining. Sprinkling. Showers. Misting. It's what we get.

Except for nearly two weeks we didn't have rain. We had snow. We had freezing rain. We had more snow. We loved it. At first. Oh magical snow! Hooray for snow! But then, like the umpteenth gallon of eggnog in the fridge, it just didn't seem like such a treat anymore. The snow drifts piled up, the stores shut down, the mail didn't come. There is joy to be found in a slower pace, certainly. We couldn't rush around. We couldn't be frantic. We had to just be together. That's good stuff.

What wasn't so good is what it did to the local economy. Jason's dad couldn't keep his coffee shop open because the parking lot didn't get plowed and people couldn't get in. The snow came and the Christmas spending didn't.

But now the rain has come. There still remains some residual snow, streaking the yards, crouching in shadows, piled in the corners of parking lots. Mostly, though, it's is gone. And it feels like such a gift to have our rain back. It's so nice to see the road. Imagine! Actual pavement!

It's also nice to see the grass. Oh sweet green grass, you're so pretty to look at.

Especially the green grass on the 2.5 acres we now own.

Oh my goodness gracious, it's true. On Friday, Jason and I drove down to the county offices and filled out all the official paperwork that allowed my parents to deed over to us the land where we're building. Land that has an orchard of apple and cherry trees. Land that partially runs through a wooded area. Land that slopes down to Salmon Creek. It's all ours. The grass. The blackberry bushes. The nettles. The trees. The mole hills.

My parents have long told us that they were giving us the property, but yada yada yada, we never quite got all the forms filled out. Now, after two trips to the county office, seventy-five cents in parking fees, and a frantic search to get my dad's signature--he was helping out the mailman who was stuck in a snow bank--it's official. Once again, we are property owners who are going to be paying very real property taxes. Yes, I'm even thankful for those property taxes. Just like I'm thankful for the rain.

It was a good Christmas. Filled with lots of family, very little driving, plenty of toys and new socks, plenty of good food. In a dozen years, we may not be able to find those toys, and our family will look quite a bit different. But in a dozen years, it will be the present we got the day after Christmas--the property where we are building our house, where our girls will grow up, where we plan on living for the rest of our lives--that we'll still be talking about.

Thanks, Mom and Dad. I know you didn't draw our names for the Christmas gift exchange, but you still managed to give us one heck of a present anyway.

For those who are interested in highlights and all that, here's a little video I put together of our Christmas holidays. You'll even catch a glimpse of our new property, albeit covered in snow. And you'll catch a glimpse of what our life will be like, surrounded by family.

Christmas 2008 from creature bug on Vimeo.

Gifts: Part One

I had a post all ready to put up about some of the wonderful gifts--tangible and intangible--we've received this season, but then my little nephew went and got himself born this morning.

And babies need their own post, don't you know. You can't lump them in with a list of bulleted items.

 

Mederith Owen William was born this morning to his proud parents, Tyler and Sarah. He will no doubt have blue eyes, and maybe even red hair, just like his dad and great-grandpa (for whom he was named after).

Three cars worth of people--including Med's sisters Clover and Toby and his cousins Sydney, Jules, and Amanda--got to meet Med for the very first time this afternoon, and you never saw five little girls so happy to meet the newest member of the family.

 

Oh little boy. You are going to have quite the time growing up on the farm with all these girls.

 

Both baby and mother are doing well. Med was passed around to all the family members, and Sarah snapped a million pictures. Those zoom lenses come in very handy when you've just had a baby and need to rest in a hospital bed. The hospital's WiFi also comes in handy for posting pictures.

 

And the most precious photo of the morning is my grandma, holding her 17th great-grandchild, whose name reminds her of the man she married so many years ago. Little Med, meet Grandma-Great. She'll have lots of stories to tell you about the first Mederith whose life was a remarkable one, indeed.

 

Welcome to the world, little Med. We're so happy to meet you.

Week 235: And then she turned TWO

It has been a snowflake flurry of activity around here, and although I have much to write, it really is just too much to get into one post, but there are pictures of cake and candles and snow to share, and oh! there's a winner from the Kohl's contest at the bottom of this post.

First of all--and most importantly--a certain lovable, adorable, feisty little Jules turned two this morning. We had a party for her yesterday, and even though the roads were slick and icy and it was not quite safe for people to be out driving, we didn't have to worry about people driving (except Jason's parents who drove the 12-mile distance very safely). We invited all the Family Farm Folks, and they all put on their winter coats and walked over.

Lo and behold, you get all the Family Farmers together and that's 18 people. Oh yes. We can do parties.

 

Jules is probably going to grow up thinking that candy canes are shaped in an J just for her name. I am going to grow up rejoicing that I can use candy canes as a birthday decoration.

Since my camera ran out of batteries, and because I can't seem to multitask party managing and taking pictures, Sarah was a gem and took beautiful photos for me (check out her blog for more lovely seasonal photos). No matter that she was expecting to give birth to my nephew on the day of the party; she's a super trooper and perhaps Baby is holding out for a Christmas birthday.

 

Oh, and yes, that is a big long string of slobber you seen descending from Jules's mouth onto the cake. She was committed to blowing those candles out. Quite.

I scooped off the slobber, and well, we're all family, so we mostly at the cake anyway. Nevertheless, it was a good thing I also made cupcakes.

  

Especially since Jules didn't really want to share her cake.

 

Presents make for a good distraction from all the cake eating.

Next year *fingers crossed* Jules' birthday party will be the very first birthday party we have in our new house. Not only that, but it will be the very first time I will host a birthday party in my own home. I can hardly imagine it.

Next year, however, I hardly suspect there will be nearly a foot of snow on the ground like there is right now. I know all you Snow People smirk at our usual 2 inches of snow, but seriously. We have snow. It literally snowed all day long yesterday. And then we had freezing rain. And then more snow. And tonight? More snow. All this week? More snow. It's unreal.

Of course, no one owns a snow plow around here, so the roads are just as white as can be. Andrea, Sarah and I escaped the farm for a couple hours and went to Barnes and Noble (I GOT TO DRIVE), and we couldn't stop remarking at how insane this snow storm is. Did I say it's unreal? I did? Well, it is. Unreal.

Fortunately, the mule does a pretty good job of getting us around in the snow.

   

There is much joy to be found in sledding.

 

Much joy, indeed.

And finally, a winner for the Kohl's $50 gift card. I loved reading all your Christmas wishes. It made me want to go on Amazon and buy you all presents. If only I were independently wealthy.

As it is, though, just one winner, and Randomizer.org picked comment #7:

 

Congratulations, John! Maybe you thought by flying west for Christmas you'd escape the east coast blizzards, but it was not to be. Hope you enjoy your vacation out here.

So, there you go. Parties, snowballs, and winners. Hooray for it all.

But mostly, hooray for you, Jules. You're two. Loves from Mama.

Turning Five

Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday, dear Creature Bug.
Happy Birthday to you!

Today marks the fifth birthday of my little blog. Five years of recording daily moments. Five years of writing about pregnancies, births, and moments that have sailed through my life on calm and temptuous seas. I've written about books and teaching, weather and movies, parenting and holidays. I've misplaced more than one comma, left modifiers dangling, verbed nouns. I've taken pictures of my family, home, and even the view out the window.

On more than one occasion over the past five years, I have thought about giving up blogging...sometimes the narrative in my head gets so loud I somehow believe that not blogging will make it quieter. And sometimes I lose perspective about why I started writing here in the first place. It's taken me awhile to realize that the voice in my head persisted long before the Internet even began, and while I could stop writing here, I'd still have to write somewhere. I've also learned to stop looking at my numbers--numbers of readers, numbers of comments, numbers of hits--and stop worrying about every post being clever. I can't compete. I'm okay with that.

I remind myself that it's about the journey. It's about practicing my writing, capturing moments, creating community, connecting with friends, expressing my voice however I find it at any particular moment. It's about catching that elusive phrase and tieing it down with a few strokes on the keyboard. Even when blogging goes out of style, writing about life never will. And so I write on.

So, today, I'll blow out a candle and do a little birthday dance to celebrate five years of living online.

Most of all, my deepest thanks for coming to my party. You've made my day...more than once, no doubt. 

Please eat some cake, drink some punch, and, if you'd like, drop off your presence by the guestbook. :)

And now you must call me Master Stephanie

At exactly 1:27 pm--a full 27 minutes after I could call, but didn't because I was afraid I'd get a busy signal--I called the graduate office. They told me the news: I PASSED MY GRADUATE EXAMS.

WOOOOOHOOOO!

I PASSED!

I very quietly celebrated since Jules is taking a nap, and Sydney gets riled up if I get riled up, so consider these exclamation points my party.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, it's official. I have my Master of Science in Education with a Language Arts Emphasis. I feel like I ought to wax eloquently about it, but I think I've pretty much said all I need to say about it. Just for my own record, and because someday I may consider getting my PhD and I need to remind myself of all this work, here's a few milestones of the journey. (By the way, for the longest time I thought I started classes in 2000, but I hadn't. Hooray for it taking a year less than I thought,)

• Summer 2001: Begin graduate program. Take class in James Joyce, at which point I realize a whole literary world that I had previously been unaware of.
• Summer 2002: Continue classes. Two-thirds of the way finished.
• Summer 2003: Out of money. Take one class.
• Spring 2004: Take a class, and revel in being the only pregnant woman in class.
• Summer 2004: Have a baby. Take no classes.
• January 2005: Back in the saddle again. Take a Modern Irish Literature class and fall in love with the academic world again.
• March 2005: Feel a bit frantic about having to write a term paper as well as parent a 9-month old.
• January 2006: Take an online course: Internet for Educators class. Ho hum.
• Summer 2006: Take a Teaching Writing class, which made me wish for a brief moment I was teaching high school English again.
• Spring 2007: Take a linguistics class that was a wonderful way to end my course-work. The professor was amazing, the subject work fascinating, and though leaving newborn Jules with a friend was hard, it worked out. And when it didn't work, I took Jules to class with me and the professor held her while I worked on the assignments.

And after that class I thought I would be able to take comps, but between them not being offered and not wanting to take them the same term as Jason took his, they were post-poned until this fall.

Seven years and five months later, I finished--with a perfect 4.0--what I started.

Yay me.

Rocks and Socks and Talks and Walks

I admit I had a moment of panic yesterday when I opened up the envelope, pulled out the test questions, and saw that one of the test questions was not what I had studied for. "Oh crap," I mumbled to myself. I closed my eyes and prayed I would not throw up.

And then I sat, for a good 15 minutes, willing myself to stay there and work it out anyway. Even though I tend to do well on essay exams, I still lean more towards feelings of flight rather than fight. I remembered having the same feeling ten years ago when I took part of my teaching exam, seeing that question about Emily Dickinson and themes of death in her poetry and thinking, "I can't do it." I cried for the first hour of the two-hour exam.

But not yesterday. I would not cry. I would not run away. I would answer the question, even if it didn't have anything to do with everything I had memorized about Aristotle's rhetorical context. And, I told myself, I was going to totally rock that exam question--even if it was pebble-size rocking, rather than boulder-size. A rock is a rock, right?

Anyway, I typed my little heart out, managing to eek out two 1500-word essays that I wasn't ashamed of. The comic Irish lit question I had expected; the developing a teaching unit based on grammar theories wasn't exactly what I had planned on. Nevertheless, by a stroke of Providence, just that morning I had looked over some grammar theories and decided to randomly memorize a few names. Thank you, Lord.

While it's true that I ended up basing the whole writing unit on one theorist whose name I couldn't remember, I think it'll be okay. It's quite possible what I wrote wasn't what they were looking for, but in the end I was pretty tickled with myself and wished that I could actually implement the writing unit I created because it was so totally creative and cool. See, there's that residual adrenaline talking now.

I didn't run away. I sat there and remembered all the things people have said to encourage me. I thought of my professors, my sweet husband, my parents, and I thought, "I can do it."

And 7 hours and 5000 words later, I did.

Now I wait until November 19th to see if I passed. Deep breaths.

The Princess & the Puff

My little magical creatures headed out tonight to gather their treats and celebrate the evening at a Halloween party hosted by a teacher from Jason's school.

   

It's Jules first time out, and since she is a candy addict, I imagine that this may rank up there as one of the best days of her life so far. (What? What's this? Who's giving out candy? Everyone that we know is giving out candy?! I'll do whatever it takes! Yes! I'll wear that. No! I won't wear the hood.)

Even Jason got in on the spirit of Halloween and dressed up as Dennis Rodman, complete with tattoos, sunglasses, and shaved head (aaaaaaaahh!). It was too frightening. No pictures of that.

Also frightening?

Me, stuck at home, reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha. Ugh.

I don't even have any candy to keep me company. Now there's a mean trick indeed.

Ah well. I'll sneak some treats when the little princess ballerina and Puff the Magic Dragon come home. It'll be just enough sugar to keep me going for a few more hours. 

 

Hope your evening is filled with plenty of treats and friendly goblins to keep you company.

Week 223: Afloat

Well.

It was perhaps optimistic of me to be thinking a week ago that life would be back to normal--or at least back to a new normal--by today. Oh, I knew there would still be unpacked boxes, but somehow I thought I'd have the routine down of living in two different states (literally, since figuratively I'm living in many different states). Yet, it's 61 degrees here and I find myself without any jeans. Or socks. Or footwear other than flip flops and high heels. In fact, all those things are 70 miles away, unpacked, stacked neatly on the shelves in the closet of our "weekend" house. Ergo, I am cold.

Yes, the "clothes issue" is proving to be problematic.

I think I could write a lot about all the many things that have been problematic over the past week. Even things that have been more than problematic, verging on semi-traumatic. Honestly, I'm not quite there yet, where I can write about leaving our house. I have to force myself to remember the shining moments from the week, otherwise the defining moment becomes me, sitting at the top of the driveway of our former house, sobbing in the darkness, wishing we hadn't ever decided to sell our house.

While that was definitely part of last week, it wasn't all heartbreak and frustration.  

• My dad--a former professional mover--help us get our house packed up and organize the logistics of loading the moving van.
• Our parents being so willing and flexible to have the girls last week while we tried to get everything arranged. 
• The cable guy who came out to our apartment at 10 pm to fix our Internet connection.
• The wonderful group of students who are part of my classes this semester.
• The Banana Republic gift cards that we received courtesy of the rewards program on our credit card, allowing us to buy new clothes for work.
• The time that Jason and I got to spend just with each other--even if we were missing our girls terribly.
• The meal that our friend fixed us on Friday after we had been suffering on fast food (or no food) for a week.
• Receiving a several thousand dollar check back because we had (unbeknownst to us) been overcharged on the realtor commission.

Isn't that how every challenging situation is? Full of difficulties, to be sure, but also full of moments that keep us afloat. I expect (somewhat to my chagrin) that this past week is only a small reflection of what this next year is going to look like. No one said it was going to be easy--building a house, living in two different places, driving a 140-miles round-trip a couple times a week. I'm not even going to pretend that I'm 100% happy with all the decisions we've made.

But we're in it now, and it'll be okay. We'll float on down this muddy river, and let me tell you, there will be one heck of a picnic celebration when we get to the end.

You

First of all, yesterday WE SIGNED OFFICIAL CLOSING PAPERS selling our house. It's sold. We did it. I didn't even cry. I'm sure I will eventually, but not right now. Plus, today we will receive a very large check with a good number of zeros on it, and that makes me oh so very happy. I know money isn't everything, but when it comes to building a house, money is one of those things banks get picky about.

Second of all--and you may not think this is huge deal, but it's a big deal at our house--*drumroll please*... Sydney wrote out her first word! All by herself. Without any prompting. Oh my goodness gracious.

Obviously, we had to make cupcakes to celebrate her achievement. We are nothing if not predictable in celebrating accomplishments like learning that 2 + 2 is 4, and memorizing all 50 states, and saying "three" instead of "free." Ah, the perils of growing up in a household with two teachers for parents.

Syd has had the basic idea of writing her name for a few months now. The "s" is tricky (very wiggly) and the "d" sometimes is upside down, or backwards, or upside and backwards, but she's working on it. However, on Monday, I came home from errands and there was Sydney at the table, a huge grin on her face, ready to explode with excitement. "MOM! Look what I can do!"

A quick glance at her paper revealed what she was going to accomplish, but I didn't let on that I had it figured out. I watched as she very slowly wrote out three letters: y-o-u.

There was much cheering in my household over that one little word. Over and over, Sydney wrote it out on her piece of oversized construction paper. You, in pink. You, in green, You, in varying shades of red. It was a veritable parade of you-ness.

As soon as I saw Sydney write out the word, I knew exactly how she had learned it. We've been working on sight words, both with flashcards and with a new DVD that I got from Parent Bloggers Network. Since Sydney isn't going to be attending pre-school in the fall (and probably won't attend a traditional kindergarten the following year either), then I've been making an effort to do some small-scale teaching of sight words. It's all very low-key since I'm a pretty firm believer that young kids should do most of their learning through play time, not sitting at the table memorizing root words.

Even though we've reviewed a language development system before, this new DVD is more brief, more geared towards preschoolers, and altogether a more focused presentation on one particular skill. Meet the Sightwords is produced by the Preschool Prep Company, and they have a whole line-up of educational DVDs.

What I like about this particular DVD is that it's not too loud or boisterous, it uses a lot of repetition, and the goal is simple: familiarize kids with sight words. Sight words are the ones that kids usually learn to "read" first because they are the words that you don't sound out. You just know them. Of, you, he, to, a, play, said, and, the--these are all words that kids need to just recognized as words rather than labor over sounding them out (which can be exasperating, especially with a word like "the"). In fact, the better you get at reading, the greater number of words that become sight words. For instance, as you're reading this post you probably don't have to sound out too many of the words. You just know what they are.

Meet the Sight Words helps kids start to learn those beginning sight words, and overall I think it does a pretty good job at it. The sight words come on the screen, become little characters who do simple tasks, and the narrator probably repeat the specific word about a dozen times. Because there's no storyline, then it's not a movie that Sydney will watch every day. However, after seeing it a few times she has learned to recognize some of the words in books.

The thing I most appreciate about the DVD--something I haven't seen other educational DVDs do--is that it shows the words in a variety of colors, sizes, and positions on the screen. It's not just a slide show of a static word moving across the tv; it's trying to help kids recognize a pattern of letters in a dynamic environment. Afterall, not every book a child reads is going to be in the same font. Not every presentation of the letter "a" is going to look the same (there's this a, and there's this a).

For me, it's just nice to have another tool to use with Sydney as she continues to explore writing and reading. And someday, if she ever asks about the first word she ever wrote out by herself, I can tell her,

"It all began with you."

Preschool Prep Company sells a whole slew of educational DVDs, and Meet the Sight Words retails for $14.95. Or you can get it at Amazon for $9.99.

Accepted

I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's hard to describe except to say that it's the same feeling I get when I take a pregnancy test and the results are positive. No matter that all my pregnancies have been planned and expected, whenever I saw that little plus sign I had the same feeling: excitement followed by a huge dose of sheer terror.

Without exception every time I've found out I was pregnant I've said, "Oh crap." Hallmark moments, I am not.

That's the feeling I have right now. That feeling of joy and excitement mixed in with more than a small amount of terror and...what? sadness? uncertainty? mourning? I don't know. But my gut feels it.

The middle-length story of the past couple days is thusly.

Tuesday, a woman--let's call her Ms. K--and her daughter came to see our house with their realtor. We went for a walk while they toured the house. We came home to grab some food, vacuum for another showing, and as we were doing another clean sweep through the house, Ms. K's realtor called and asked if they could see the house again that evening.

"She's looking through a few other houses right now, but she really wants to come back and see your house." Of course, we agreed because we want someone to buy our house and the more often someone sees your house, the more likely (hopefully) they are to make an offer. Oh, and haven't you heard? Getting an offer on a house is small miracle these days.

Before we could make it out of the house, Ms. K and her realtor came back to see the house. Since we had been having trouble with the key-box outside our door, we had been leaving the front door unlocked for showings. Ms. K jokes about locking the door so the other people who are going to be touring the house won't be able to see it. We take this as a strong sign of interest.

We headed out again to get dinner at Jamba Juice and Great Harvest Bread Co., and Ms. K's realtor called again: "She really likes your house and wants her parents to see it tomorrow." We hold our breath, hoping that she'd make an offer.

Wednesday night an offer came in. It's too low. We know how much money we have to walk away with to use as a down payment on building the new house. Her offer didn't meet this number.

We are so sad. In fact, we're sad for both of us. Along with the offer came a letter from Ms. K's realtor explaining a little bit of why the offer was so low. We believed her, but we still couldn't accept the offer.

Thursday morning we counter offered.

We waited.

This morning we moved into some discussions between our realtor and Ms. K's realtor, trying to come to a number that we could both live with. We wanted to sell the house; she really wanted to buy the house. Neither of us was interested in walking away from this deal. They counter offer our counter offer (we agree on price); we counter offer their counter offer (they agree on closing date).

We have each accepted the offer. The house was on the market for less than a month, and as it turns out we now have less than a month to move out. Barring an unforeseen glitch in the process, it appears to be that in four weeks we will no longer be residents of Kevin Street.

I'm happy. I am. I mean...gosh, this is what we had hoped for. Someone is buying our house.

I can feel it all inside me: relief, excitement, expectation. And there, swirling beside the happiness is something else. That same feeling I got whenever I found out I was pregnant...what's it called? Joyful terror.

And as I sat here typing up this post, I got an email from Ms. K's realtor saying, "Thank you sooo much!  M is so thankful to you for being willing to come down on the price."

I can't help but say, "Thank you, God, for answering our prayers." Yet in the same breath I also hear myself mutter, "Oh crap."

We sold our house.

Eleven With A Theme

(From last month's walk through Central Park; picture courtesy Inkling.)

Eleven Ways to Celebrate 11 Years of Wedded Bliss:

1. Drop the kids off with grandparents. Hard to say who's going to have more fun...the grandparents or the grandkids! 
2. Go downtown Portland for a wonderful dinner at Pazzo Ristorante. Enjoy red meat since it's never cooked at home.
3. Stroll downtown, hand in hand, through stores, through Pioneer Courthouse Square (pause to consider watching Goonies showing in the square later that night, but decide against it). Talk about how much you love Portland.
4. Snuggle on the couch, watching tv.
5. Sleep in (even if you don't end up sleeping in, relish a morning where you don't have to change a diaper, clean up spilled cereal, fill sippycups with juice, give baths, and answer no less than 20 questions about What We Are Doing Today)
6. Finish projects around the house that are tricky to do when small hands "help."
7. Plan to see X: Files (even if you don't believe in aliens, you do believe in Mulder and Scully).
8. Pack a picnic lunch to eat at Bush Park between movies.
9. Plan to see The Dark Knight (even if one of you suspects that it might be too violent for her taste).
10. Eat dessert--black and white mousse torte, naturally--at The Konditerai.
11. Kiss each other goodnight, and remember that it's been a good year.

Of course, they've all been good years. But this year has been one in which almost everything seemed to fit in place. No big changes, no catastrophes, no surprises. We've been healthy, gotten our finances on track (hooray for finally being debt-free), made plans for the future. Only the Lord knows what next year will hold--moving? new jobs? building a house?--and last night as we were eating dinner, we decided that we aren't going to worry about next year. That piece of time is not in our hands.

But this year? Jason got his Masters degree; I got another year of making it through; we traveled to the east coast twice. We had another year of parenting two beautiful girls, who have discovered joy in dancing, joy in singing, joy in laughing. Come to think of it, we have a lot of laughter in our house.

Which is the most anyone can hope for.

(Love you, Sweetums. And better consider this post your card...since I hate to break tradition by getting you one. xx)

Related Posts:

• 10-Year Anniversary & Trashing the (Wedding) Dress
• 8-Year Anniversary & The Story of Happily Ever After

Week 210: Birthday Traditions

Whew! I'm beginning to suspect that when a child's birthday happens on a week day, but then the birthday party is actually two days later, what you really end up having is a birthday marathon, one that only small children have enough stamina to finish with room to spare for yet another piece of cake.

It was grand though. Sydney turned four, and now living in all her four-ness has fully sunk in and she's happy, happy, happy about it. For her birthday we hit her favorite places: Great Harvest Bread Company for an apple cinnamon breakfast roll, and Jamba Juice for a peach smoothie. Then we trotted over to Costco where she was allowed to pick out a book for her birthday present. What more could a kid want? Birthday dinner was mac-n-cheese, which thrilled nearly all of us (Jason is not fond of it).

Of course, the birthday was also filled with traditional things that have developed over the years. When Sydney's first birthday was approaching, I only had one thing in mind to purposefully turn into a tradition: taking a picture of her with a dress that used to belong to my mom.

Every year prior to this one, I have had to settle for the dress being in the background because Sydney refused to wear it. This year, however, Sydney was more than willing to put the dress on and let me pin it up so that she could run around the yard in it.

She flapped her arms and laughed and thrilled in alternately being a bird, an angel, a fairy, and a butterfly. I got scores of pictures, video footage, and a good long moment of that sometimes elusive feeling of Happiness. My little girl, spinning around the yard in her grandma's dress.

Although the dress is the only tradition that I set out to create, as it so often the case, other things became tradition. Like the annual measuring of height.

I think it's the stickers that came with the growth chart that helped make this a tradition since they announce that "Today I Am 1" or "I am 4 Today." Naturally, we even carried on this tradition with Jules for her birthday. For some reason I just always take a picture of it, even of the sticker. I think the reason why I initially started taking a picture of the sticker was so that I could post that photo here at Creature Bug (although I looked back in the archives and see that I didn't), but now after four years, I'd take the picture even if I didn't have anywhere to put it except in a photo album. That's what we do on birthdays.

Another tradition is the making of the birthday cake. Sydney was specific about what she wanted this year: "A horsie cake! No, a castle cake. No, um, maybe, no, yes, a horsie cake." For those of you who have been following along for awhile, you may remember that she had a horsie cake for her 2nd birthday, and I was all too happy to say "neigh"--or rather, yea--to her horse request.

Since we had 30 people at her birthday party (wow! all family!) then I knew I needed to make an additional cake, especially since last year I ran out of birthday cake. We ended up with some leftover cake, which was really good for breakfast on Sunday. And lunch. And dinner.

And, of course, no birthday is complete without the 3 C's--cousins, candles and clever gifts.

Sydney was lucky enough to have not only 1st cousins at her party, but her 2nd cousins, and a 3rd cousin! Oh yeah, we know family.

Sometimes I think traditions can make you feel burdened, like you have to do something or it's all ruined. There was a particular "bringing the baby home from the hospital" family tradition I had really not wanted to do, and it just made me so crabby about doing it until I ultimately decided that it was just not a big deal. Breathe. Calm down. I didn't want birthdays to turn into a list of things that had to be accomplished. 

If I had demanded of myself to write a birthday poem for Sydney every year just because I did it for her 1st birthday, then I know it'd feel like a chore to me. If I had felt like just because she had waffles on her 2nd birthday and she had to be stuck with waffles from now until eternity, well, that would have made this year kind of hard because we didn't have any eggs that morning she turned 4. I couldn't have made waffles, so Lucky Charms was the birthday breakfast, and Sydney was probably happier for it. Plus, I don't make waffles. Jason does.

Fortunately, I think the traditions that have settled into our birthday routine aren't too tricky and are fun to do. I always fret a tiny bit about getting the picture of Sydney with the dress because kids and photo sessions aren't always a super fun combination. But that photo is the one that I really want, more than anything, because the whole experience of Sydney clutching that decades-old dress just feels so rich and...something about heritage. I don't know. I do know that however it turns out, I'll need to be flexible. Maybe one year I'll have to give myself the summer to get the picture. 

This year, though, keeping traditions was a piece of cake.

Obviously, that would be a piece of birthday cake.

Turning Four

 

On Turning Four
by Sydney

I like to play at the park
to ride my bicycle too
I like going to the library,
and going to the farm where I play with Clover
and ride the Jeep around.

I like to eat oatmeal and Raisin Bran
and Kix
oh and bagels, and chicken and broccoli soup,
and also I like to eat for dinner is
mac-n-cheese.

And ice cream and yogurt, of course.

I like dancing in the big class
(the theatre)
and wearing tutus,
and dancing with dresses
and when I don't have dresses I like dancing like that too.

I like to read Waking up Wendell
and Winnie the Pooh books
I like watching Winnie the Pooh too,
and Boz and seeing pictures of where
Grandma Nancy and Papa Steve when to
(Egypt)

I like going to Grandma Sharon's school
and going to Daddy's school
even though Clover doesn't go to Daddy's school
and Grandma Sharon's school very often.

I like to wrestle with Daddy and I say,
(as she laughs)
"Hey! No! Stop it!"

I like treats like candy canes
I like to go to the beach where I throw sand in the water
I like singing songs like Wheels on the Bus and
If You're Happy and You Know It.

I like to hug Grandma Great
and I like her voice
and I love her.

I love Jules and Daisy
Momma, Daddy,
Clover and Grandma Nancy and Papa Steve
and Grandma Sharon and Papa Chuck
and I love Grandpa Great and Grandma Donna
who take me to the farm.

I like everything!

(and if your momma could add to the list
she would say:
you like shaking the jingle bells at the library
giving Jules goodnight kisses
snuggling in bed
and drinking Jamba Juice and eating Great Harvest bread

you love to draw and dance and sing
and make us laugh
you love to pray and go to church
and memorize verses.

you are amazing.
you are four.)

This is what I like.
Today I am four
but I'm still three a little bit
but I'm also still four.

Week 209: Discovering Ballet

If you had ever visited my bedroom when I was a teenager, you would have thought I was a ballerina. Ballet posters adorned my walls, my closet doors, my bulletin board. I had teddy bears with tutus, pins with ballet slippers. I had seen every dance-themed movie, and secretly practiced the ballet moves behind the closed doors. I wanted with all my heart to be a ballerina, or at least some kind of dancer.

But I never took dance lessons.

To tell you the truth, I'm not sure if I ever even asked my parents if I could have dance lessons. I had piano lessons, voice lessons, a short and unfortunate period of time as a soccer player. But I never danced, even though I really wanted to. I suppose I didn't ask my parents because I figured they would say no. Maybe if I had really been insistent on it they might have considered it. It didn't ever cross my mind that I actually could be a dancer, only that I wanted to be one.

So, last Christmas when Jason's mom--who had been a ballerina for 20 years--said she'd help pay for Sydney to attend a dance class, I was giddy with excitement. Just like pursuing my own dance aspirations years ago, it had honestly never occurred to me to put Sydney in ballet at a dance studio because I always figured it would be too expensive. As it turns out, it really was too expensive for us, so I don't know if we can manage her going back in the fall. However, I don't regret the money we spent. And if there's any way we can have Sydney in ballet again in the fall--especially because she clearly enjoys it so much--then we'll do it.

Every Monday morning since last January, Sydney would put on her red leotard, her white tights, her white dance skirt, and her pink ballet slippers. She'd spend 45 minutes in Miss Erin's class with nine other 3-year-old girls, and they would twirl, and leap, and stretch, and demi-plie. They also diligently practiced their routine that they were to perform for the recital. I was a little apprehensive that Sydney would be too shy, or not be able to follow the directions, but my fears were unfounded and Sydney thrived in her class. She loves to dance.

Last Friday was the dress rehearsal, where I took most of these pictures and the video. Saturday was the recital, and it was a big production, much bigger and much more professional than I thought it would be. Sydney's dance school had rented the Historic Elsinore Theatre, and all the preschool classes were part of the matinee performance (the school-agers and adults performed during the evening production), as well as the advanced ballet class. Sydney's grandmas and grandpas and cousins came to watch Sydney the Beautiful Ballerina. She with her hair pulled back in a bun, make-up sparingly applied, costume properly fluffed, tights brand new for the occasion.

There is something magical about little girls in tutus, their sweet voices reminding each other where to stand on stage. The music played, the tulle swirled and swished, and the little pink slippers tripped across the stage. Sydney knew where to go and swayed when she was supposed to. As I watched her, I was surprised by the tears in my eyes. Who knows what more she'll do in the world of dancing, but for that moment she was a beautiful dancer, on an amazing stage, curtsying before an applauding audience. Even afterwards, as she held her flower bouquet in her arms, I looked at her and beamed. Not because I had a secret wish for Sydney to fulfill my dreams of becoming a dancer; I was just so very proud of what she accomplished. On her own two pink slipper-clad feet.

 

Bravo, my sweet.

Here's the video...Sydney is the one without her crown (she had her crown on for the performance, but we couldn't find it for the dress rehearsal):

(c) Creature Bug 2008. All rights reserved.

Going to Work

Yesterday was Take Your Child to Work day, which many of Jason's students used as a great opportunity to ditch school and go see how cool working is (or not).

Instead of ditching school, Sydney actually went to school. For an assortment of reasons, Sydney didn't go to work with me. The main reason was that students were giving final speeches, and while they have developed a plethora of techniques for conquering their shaky nerves, I suspect a child waving at them from the back of the classroom would have just sent them over the top.

So, Sydney went to school with Jason. And, boy oh boy, was she just beside herself with excitement. The night before, she picked out her clothes, helped her daddy pack her lunch, and got her overnight bag all ready since my grandpa was picking her up at school to take her up to the Family Farm for her weekly visit. She went to bed early the night before since she knew that she'd have to wake up early, and she didn't complain about waking up at 6:15 am. Normally, Jason leaves for school very early because it's better for him to get work done before school than to stay after school more than the required time (ie: I beg him to be home by 4:00). However, he made an exception this time and left for school later than he needed to be.

By all accounts Sydney had a fabulous time. She gave hugs to the girls, and avoided giving high-fives to the boys (well done, my child). She drew on the dry-erase board, watched Winnie the Pooh on the iPod, ate donuts in the school office, and ran around the gym during Jason's prep time. As an added bonus, Inkling took her son to work with her too, so Sydney was jazzed about seeing him. Lunchtime rolled around, and my grandpa arrived to pick up Sydney. Jason told me later, "I wish Sydney could have been with me all day. It was so much fun having her around."

There are certain benefits to being almost four, and this year it was finally being old enough to go to work with Daddy. Who knows if this early experience with teaching will actually mean she'll want to be a teacher--gosh, if she follows in our footsteps, she won't figure out her career choice until her college adviser says, "Uh, maybe you should pick a major?"--but I'm glad she had a great experience her first time going to work with Jason. There are valuable lessons in learning what your parents do for a living, but of course, you already knew that, didn't you? Smarty pants.

*****

(c) 2008 Creature Bug. All rights reserved.

Let's Hear it for The Boy

Jason called WOU today to find out whether or not he passed his graduate exams that he took two weeks ago. (Yes, that's what he was doing Valentine's Day. No, talking about the Stuart Era--while interesting--is not so much romantic.)

Even though he finished his classes a year ago, it wasn't ever very convenient to take the exam. And by convenient I mean "feeling ambitious enough to put brain through academic torture." At long last, he forced himself to just do it, even if he didn't feel totally prepared.

The education exam was not so difficult (per usual for education exams).

The history exam was giving Jason nightmares. Literally. He had difficulty getting a hold of one of his professors in order to find out what he might need to study for. When you take courses on the Aztecs, Incas, Mayans, Stuarts, Tudors, Terrorists, NAFTA, Africa, and Central America it's helpful if you have a general ballpark of what the essay questions (3 questions, answered in four hours) are about.

In the end, he had to take an educated guess (as well as put in no less than 100 hours of studying).

He called WOU this morning to find out if he passed, and then he called me with the answer:

"Hey. So. I got a master's degree."

Love this man. So proud of him. Also? Feeling happy that I can finally put away the huge stacks of books that have been littering our room (Jihad vs. McWorld, anyone?) for the past couple months. Mostly though I'm just feeling darn proud that tonight I get to sleep next to guy who just earned his MS in Education. Oh yeah.

Week 192: iParty

Even though Jason and I usually have a joint birthday party on the weekend between our two birthdays, this year we had thought we might pass on the whole party bit. Not because we don't like people celebrating our birthdays, mind you (mine is Friday...still plenty of time to get me a present, hmm?), but because it would involve us driving the hour up to the Family Farm. Sometimes driving just doesn't seem like too much fun. For Jason's birthday I made shiny top blueberry cobbler, spaghetti with browned butter and mizithra cheese, and called it good.

But then my parents tempted us up to their house on Saturday with the promise of an excellent birthday present.

We have joined the iMasses. It's very exciting. I have a suspicion that the real reason why my parents gave us an iPod is because Sydney was asking for one, and although they kept telling us repeatedly that we really really needed one, we would have none of it. Ultimately my parents couldn't bear the thought of (1) their granddaughters not having every day access to an iPod and (2) these granddaughters being raised by parents who didn't see the immediate need to have one. So, now we have one, and it's fabulous. I've left the task of downloading/uploading/all things iPod related to Jason because I spend enough time on the computer without adding another project. The only thing I'll probably do myself is get all the episodes of This American Life.

Not only did we get an iPod and an iTunes gift card (wee! thanks Cousin!), but my parents also gave us a new desktop computer and external hard drive. If I didn't know better I'd think the new computer was run by a battery because it is as quiet as a mouse. Quieter, in fact, judging from my experience with mice. And if techy stuff doesn't interest you, I got some very shiny earrings and bracelets. Ooh, pretty.

Other birthday party highlights (photos courtesy my dad and Sarah) include:

 

a cake with 32 candles,

blowing out the candles,

 

and the licking of frosting off the candles.

Everything a birthday party should be.

PS: Added birthday bonus: today was a snow day, so no school! Yippee!

*****

(c) 2008 by Creature Bug. All rights reserved.

32 Things I Love About You

Happy Birthday to my wonderful husband, who gets to be a year older than me for nine whole days. To celebrate him turning 32, here are 32 things I love most about him.

1. He gives me a hug, a kiss, and tells me he loves me every single day.
2. He reads bedtime stories to Sydney every night.
3. His playfulness when he wrestles with the girls.
4. That he cuts his own hair
5. He always notices when I've cleaned the house.
6. Our mutual ability to recite Seinfeld lines to each other with perfect intonation: "The sea was angry that day, my friends." "I'm DRIVING the bus!" "We had a deal!"
7. The way he dances
8. He loves to exercise and is persistent about asking me to exercise too.
9. He always compliments me on dinner and says "thank you" even if all I did was put a pizza in the oven.
10. Cereal, also, is a perfectly good dinner to him.
11. He will watch "Grey's Anatomy" with me, even though I think he (not so) secretly hates it.
12. He has given up watching "CSI" just because I couldn't handle watching it anymore.
13. He doesn't complain that I refuse to get cable tv (even though we wouldn't have to pay for it).
14. He reads books.
15. I know he's a really great teacher.
16. He's way smart.
17. He is loyal to his friends.
18. Our secret code to tell each other "I love you"
19. That I can lean over to him in church and he instinctively knows to turn his watch towards me so I can see what time it is.
20. His freaky ability to sing cartoon/commercial/old tv show jingles, word for word. Seriously. It's some sort of gift.
21. He has limitless patience with me.
22. The amount of time and effort he is putting into our backyard
23. He's a great gift giver (diamond earrings one year for Christmas, trip to Maine this year).
24. We can play cribbage together, and even when I beat him, he will still play another round.
25. He will do laundry, vacuum, straighten-up, and cook without being asked.
26. His commitment to Tuesday nights: dinner, Dutch Brothers Coffee, story time at the library
27. We promised never to go to bed angry, and have stuck by that promise all our marriage except one night when we had a stupid argument over the dog.
28. The way he looks at me when we hear the theme song to "Antique Roadshow"
29. His passion to be a man dedicated to serving God.
30. His love of good smelling candles, and a willingness to spend a small sum of cash on peppermint candles because that's our favorite
31. When I told him I was afraid of having another baby for fear he'd be disappointed if we didn't have a boy, he said, "I'd never be disappointed. I love my girls."
32. He lets me put my freezing cold feet on the back of his legs when I crawl into bed at night.

Happy Birthday, Iokona.  {* * *}

Love, Me

From the party

Sure, Christmas was this week. But there was also a birthday party that turned out to be a marvelous way to get the relatives together for lunch, cake, and holiday/party merriment. Since I was busy doing whatever it is that I do at birthday parties (shake sprinkles on cupcakes? search for matches? create hearts on the cake out of candy canes and then shake my head in amazement at my own cleverness?), then Sarah captured these pictures of the day for us.

Jules was all for getting at that cupcake. I'll be honest and say this isn't her first encounter with sugar, or with cake, or frosting, or ice cream. She's a pro at handling desserts.

We don't mess around when we're eating. "Clothing Optional" has always been my motto at meal time. Not really. Don't come over and expect no clothing. I wear lots of clothing. Whole wardrobes of clothing. My children, however, eat in whatever attire they prefer.

All sorts of wonderful birthday goodies: a new carseat, brightly colored toys, Little People, and her very own Baby Yeti who is just as festive as can be in his peppermint striped attire. We love him.

And we love our birthday girl, though she might not be feeling the love since tomorrow we're going on vacation. Without children. Without diaper bags. Without carseats or strollers or playpens. In fact, Jules will unfortunately be finding herself going without me and my nursings to help her through the night. For the first time.

Let's not think about how traumatic it's going to be for both of us. Let's just think about how pretty those cupcakes are.

Pretty cupcakes.

And a pretty vacation is just around the corner...

Joy to the World

Three hundred and sixty-five days ago I was wishing that a baby would be born. I had been hoping; I had been pondering. And then my Christmas dreams came true. With the help of an epidural and a mile-long walk into the hospital because the parking lot was under construction.

When she was born we named her Julianne Ryan--the "anne" after my sister Andrea, the "Ryan" after Jason's brother's middle name, and the initials matching Jason's. We've called her Jules since before she was born because she was, indeed, our Christmas jewel.

Tomorrow a birthday party, an afternoon spent with aunts/uncles/cousins/grandparents, a trip to Powell's and dinner at the Spaghetti Factory. Who knew turning one could be so spectacular?

Week 184: And still I write

Four years ago today, I started writing on the Internet. I had no idea what I was getting into exactly (and if I had I might have chosen a more clever blog name). My former student Angie had started this thing called a "blog," and I was intrigued. Maybe some of my students would be interested in reading about my pregnancy--especially since I had vehemently sworn I would never have children (yes, my fingers were crossed; no, I didn't really think I'd never have kids). They would get a big kick out of me, their stern English teacher, lamenting about hormones and food cravings.

And so I wrote.

It was mostly funny stuff, and I used up some of my creative energies by alternately writing between my voice and Sydney's. I told my family, but they thought it was weird. Weird that I was writing. Boring that I would write about my life. Odd that Sydney would have a voice when, of course, she couldn't really talk. Yet my former students hung around and encouraged me to keep at it.

I wandered around the blogworld with some trepidation. I saw people commenting, but it was still so foreign to me. Comment? On a stranger's blog? What would they think of me? I still don't comment on all the blogs I read because I have my moments of insecurities about my own writing. The first blog I ever commented on was Diane's at violetismycolor. I remember she had written a post about Oak's Park, and I was just so thrilled to find someone who lived in Portland. And then she commented on my blog, and it made my day.

After a year I moved from Blogger to Typepad, and here I have remained to give voice to parenting moments, teaching moments, personal moments. In four years I've gone from being a childless, former English teacher working at Red Robin as a waitress, to being a mom of one staying full-time at home, to being a mostly at-home mom of two working very part-time at teaching.

In four years I've written about buttons and backyards, food and family, joys and depression. I've been pregnant three times and had two children, my oldest who is now 184 weeks old. I've lost a friend and two grandparents. I've run out of gas, literally and figuratively. I've cried as I've typed up posts of frustration, laughed as I told funny (or not) jokes, smiled as I've shown off pictures of my family. I've even been bored with blogging, and probably bored a few of you a time or two.

In four years I've received more than 4500 comments, and this marks my 650th post here at Typepad. Some blog moments I think I'll always remember, like how I found Raehan through Catherine Newman's BabyCenter journal, or the poem I wrote about Sydney for her first birthday, or the post that brought ccap and Inkling's first comment, or even the times I've met bloggers in real life. I've discovered that my family finally decided to start reading my blog, and even some of my friends who thought I was a crazy lunatic a couple years ago when I was talking about what I do here at Creature Bug. I've struggled with how to review products while remaining true to my stories, wondered if anybody really likes my writing, worried that I spend too much time on the computer, regretted not commenting more often.

And still I write.

Even after four years, I still second guess my writing. It's silly to spend so much time wondering if I should put a comma here, or here, or there, but I do. That's why I don't post every day. I'd drive myself crazy, and probably everyone else as well. But one thing I always do every day and that's think about the people I've met over the course of these four years. I am thankful for each of you, even those who you who observe my little world in silence, because every time I look at my sitemeter or read a comment one of you blessed souls have left me, it lets me know I'm not alone in this crazy life.

I write because I want to capture the joys and trials of this life I'm living. I write because I have something to say. And I write because someone is listening.

Thanks for the last four years.

All 50 States

You have no idea how many times I have captured Sydney's 50-State song on my camera. Singing in her jammies. Singing in the dark. Singing it on a Monday. On a Tuesday during breakfast. On a Wednesday during lunch.

Here she is singing it on a Thursday. As in, this morning. (video length: 1:17)

She was getting ready to leave soon for Grandma and Grandpa's house, that's why she has her backpack on. And somewhere around the "M"s, Jules grabbed the camera. The conditions we directors have to work under! Maybe I should go on strike.

Especially when my actors can't stay focused on the task at hand: (video: 20 seconds)

But I know, it's hard work memorizing all those states. So much so that Sydney needed to do a warm up lap for practice. (video: 1:07)

I think we're about ready to take this show on the road. Maybe Fox will pick us up since "24" has been postponed. We could write an episode for each letter of the alphabet. I don't know if we could compete with "Gray's Anatomy," but it might be better than reruns of "Two and a Half Men."

Not exactly compelling television, but we find it highly entertaining around here.

Treats

Oh, I know I should finish my three-part blog post, but I'd rather show off some fun pictures instead. As it turned out, I didn't get any pictures of Julianne--only a video that I need to edit down--but she didn't dress up for the evening anyway. Or at least, she dressed up as Super Baby who can take off with a handful of candy at lightning quick pace.

As for Syd...oh, we were waiting all day long for Daddy to get home and take her out through the neighborhood. Free candy? Mercy. There's no way she's missing that event.

She has had her Trick-or-Treat outfit picked out for a month. It's her favorite princess dress (that was originally a Valentine's Day dress from Grandpa Steve), and she was certain it would woo the candy right away from our neighbors.

Since it was cold outside tonight, then she had to wear two long-sleeved shirts under her dress, tights, and a fabulous chenille cape. Dress to impress to get candy for the Princess. Repeat it with me! Dress to impress to get candy for the Princess!

And, of course, no night out on the town is complete without our hat and kid gloves. There was a bit of trickery involved in getting the gloves on since Jason wasn't aware that there were right and left gloves, but he managed. You can see that I had nothing to do with the dressing up since, as I have mentioned before, if Daddy is home then there's no sense paying much attention to me. I can just make myself useful and hold the camera. Or the baby. Or whatever, as long as I'm not interfering with whatever Daddy is doing.

Ready to head out! Soccer bag in tow to collect the pounds of candy that our neighbors are willing to bestow upon small and impressionable children.

Off they go, Daisy barking at all threatening ghosts and goblins and scary chipmunks that cross the Princess's path. Sydney did have a change of heart about her shoes when she got to the top of the driveway. She had wanted to wear princess shoes--slip-on, heeled shoes--even though I told her that even though I support and endorse wearing heels, they aren't exactly trick-or-treating attire. She finally agreed with me and changed into her new pink tennis shoes. They have little sparkles on them, so they are still princess attire.

Reveling in the bounty of the evening. She was, Jason said, a fabulous princess who remembered to always say Trick-or-Treat and Thank-you at the appropriate time. Manners are very important for princesses. Moderation is also important, so she allowed herself two pieces of candy. We won't mention how much candy I ate tonight. Let's just say I do not follow the code of conduct befitting a princess.

Candy munched, teeth brushed, bedtime stories told.

The clock didn't need to strike midnight before this princess turned into a sleepy pumpkin.

And good night.

Proof

In case you didn't believe me when I wrote about Julianne walking at a mere nine months, today I offer you proof. (video: 23 seconds)

It's not particularly in focus, but that's because she kept moving towards me. Who is this child walking at nine months, with eight teeth, and saying "mama," "dada," and "Daisy"? Part of me wants to say Slow Down! except that I really am not so fond of the pre-two years old stage. Yeah, yeah, cute and amazing and discovering things. Babies are neat. I know. But truthfully, I really want to give her a bowl of cereal, a spoon, and drink my mug of tea while it's still hot. Big dreams.

And in complete fairness, I present a video of Sydney singing a song that Jason is working on teaching her. (video: 37 seconds)

We'll call this video "Stage One," because as of today she has already moved on to "Stage Two," which includes the M's. Jason somehow got it into his head that it would be amazing if Sydney knew all 50 states. In alphabetical order. That it would make a really good impression on her kindergarten teacher (in two years), a teacher who will no doubt not know her 50 states in order, and realize very quickly what kind of demented parents this kid has. Let me take a moment to say here that I personally do not know all 50 states in alphabetical order. Clearly, I missed this day in school, and it has caused me nothing but pain and misery ever since, especially that day in American History my junior year in high school where we had to list all 50 states and I couldn't. If only I had been sitting behind Jason (instead of in front of him), I could have cheated off his quiz. Not that I was a cheater in school, of course.

Now that Jason has taken Sydney under his wing, I have to learn the song too in order to keep up. Just today I was trying to sing through the song and paused before "Kansas," trying to remember if it was "Kansas" or "Kentucky" first. Sydney quickly provided the answer. "Kansas, Kentucky, Wheezy-anna, Maine."

Forget being smarter than a fifth grader, I'm just trying to keep up with my three year old.

PS: If you're in the video watching mood, you really ought to check out this video of my brother's dog who is a genius at breaking out of their fenced yard.