:)

No, not everything went well today (not even close) - but I am happy anyway.

Grateful for days such as these.

snow

each snowflake is different                                         
technically, they're all crystalized water                     
there are complex, symmetrical flakes
large, sloppy-wet flakes (if they were kisses, they would be from dogs)    
some come at the earth hard and fast, practically pelting
others float lazily down, and seem not to have a care in the world.

they all look alike from afar
but each snowflake is unique
in shape and size and texture
and when layered, nestled, snuggled up together
they make a beautiful blanket to cover the world with
and light up the dark cold nights and bring a quiet peace to my backyard and soul.


This weekend it snowed--the earliest snow in my PNW memory. N3 wanted to put on Christmas music when he saw it. I am strictly a no Christmas music before Thanksgiving person normally, but I could not say no to a few songs. We walked in winter wonderland and made dreams by the fire. How nice, to have dreams. It is nice, too, when they come true.

random parenting

"Is this slide for public consumption?" Someone told me that L asked that at a recent activity. All I can say is that I can tell my kid's been hanging out with me too long. ;)

I went to a work conference. Everywhere I go, people are really supportive of me. Even at work functions, except for one glaring exception, people have been amazed that I would become a stepmom and they seem so impressed by it. The assistant state auditor even told me that he was really impressed, because he knows that "the second hardest job is being a parent. The hardest job ever is being a [good] step-parent." He said he knew, because he had done both. I have not done both, but I can tell you that being a step-parent (some days I am a better step-parent than others) is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life ... but in many ways, it is the most rewarding.

I have learned patience. I have learned to think of others ... always ... even when I don't want to ... even when I am exhausted ... even when [insert every possible thing you can think of here, and then add all the impossibles, and then you can put a period in].

I was recently talking to a friend of mine who has been single a long time. I feel I am no longer qualified to talk to single people about their problems, because now I'm a "married one" and I figure I will probably say all the stuff that used to annoy me when people said it to me. It occurred to me that while single people ostensibly have more time to themselves, they also do not have the support that comes from a good, steady, loving relationship. No wonder so many people Netflix binge! It's an interesting cycle - the more you Netflix, the less likely you are to be in a relationship worth having. But Netflix is such a nice escape from the loneliness - it's impossible not to indulge at least every once in awhile. It's an interesting conundrum.

The point of me telling you this is that she said several times how much she admired what I'm doing. I don't see it that I'm doing anything that great. I'm just living my life. Some days I'm pretty short with my kids. I always feel bad afterwards, but they know I love them and that I am just trying to help them get skills. I mostly ignore the comments like, "You don't care for me at all, do you?!?" random screaming, and general Overdone Mopey-ness. All my experience says that except for the first three months, which are numbing, the older the kids get, the harder it is to be a good parent. I know that the older my kids get and the more they change, the more creative I have to be with my coping mechanisms, my discipline, my expectations, and ways to control my temper.

I think I would be more impressed with me if I saw myself from the outside. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. :)

surged

About the time I got married, L came home one day and said, "My teacher's getting surged!" He meant that she was getting hip surgery. She was gone for a month. It was amazing how much better he got along with his substitute teacher than he did with his regular teacher. His behavior reports came back glowing each day.

Yesterday, I got surged. My gums were scary thin. You could see the little veins in them and the roots of my teeth were able to be seen through the gums. It was honestly a little gross. So I went to get it fixed. They used some of the tissue from my mouth for a couple of the spots, but the rest of it they got from donors. I have to eat soft food for a week, and talk minimally. No nuts or popcorn for at least a month. Even noodles are hard to swallow. I feel like I have to bolt things down. I have been mostly trying to stay with eggs as a protein source and focusing on keeping my sugar to a minimum. Turns out a lot of soft foods are sugary, even the fructose. Also, no straws.

It's amazing how much more smoothly surgery recovery goes when you do not get anesthesia. I was pleasantly surprised by how un-fuzzy my head was post-surgery.

I need to take it easy for awhile.

Upsides:

I was laying dead on the bed and we had family prayer. L said it. He said, "And please bless Mom, so that she can have no dreams. Or good dreams. But no nightmares, please. That will raise her heart rate, and we can't have that." (I need to keep my heart rate as low as possible and avoid talking for at least 3 days. You have no idea how hard that is for me.) I smiled. He sure loves me.

N3 was trying to convey his feelings to me, as well. He said, "You're my BFFAEAEAEA." I raised an eyebrow - no talking - and he said, "Best friend forever. And ever. And ever and ever and EVER!"

My kids warm my heart.

All the staff at the doctor's office exclaimed over how well HH was taking care of me, as well. It was like they had never seen a solicitous husband. Well, now they have. :) But he's mine!

eclipse and ash

A few weeks ago, what seemed like the entire United States was in a frenzy over an eclipse of totality that would be going across much of the nation. Many drove far and camped long and ran out of gas, etc. etc. to be able to experience it. Those who saw it said it was a life-changing experience -- mostly that it was gorgeous and awe-inspiring, unlike anything they had ever seen. I was surprised that so many of them reported not being able to control themselves during totality - screaming, running about, acting strangely, hugging random strangers...

Where I was, it was in excess of 80% totality. The light seemed "dirty," and I found I was somewhat unsettled in my spirit. It wasn't that I felt depressed, but there seemed to be a suppression of sorts of both my body and the earth's -- difficult to describe. I can only imagine how much more difficult to describe it would have been if I had actually seen totality. As it was, the temperature went down a few degrees, and there were crescent-shaped shadows on the pavement from the leaves.

The other thing people commented on after the eclipse was that everyone shared with everyone else. Many made a big deal about social walls coming down and equality for everyone, even if it was just for the space of a few minutes. People who had protective glasses were sharing freely with those who did not plan ahead. (I was the recipient of some of this generosity, as I definitely did not plan ahead.)

Fast forward: yesterday, I went out right after breakfast and the sun was a big ball of gleaming orange-red hanging low in the sky. Ash was "snowing" on my car. The air in the house seems close and hot. We dare not open the windows for prudence of black lung - many of us in the house have sensitive lungs, and we do not want to encourage any problems.

We're fairly close to some fires. It is sad how much is burning. It feels like the spirit of the earth is sick. I've never really felt like the earth had a spirit - more like my spirit interacted with the beautiful things in the earth. I guess I failed to recognize it's a two-way street. It's like the earth is sick and its internal defenses are down; no immune system is left. It's like it's throwing up - too much water in some parts of the world, and not enough in others. I miss the order of the days. I hardly know what season it is because the light is orange all day and the grass is the driest, brownest, most ugly thing I have ever seen. I didn't even stir one step outside today because I simply did not want to be inundated with the ick factor.

It has been too hot or too busy to go for a walk last week, and this week I was so looking forward to some rambles. It's really disappointing to have to stay inside when all I want to do is go outside and stretch my legs and my mind.

Here's to fewer fires, storms lessened, and to bright, normal sunshine. No more dirty light!

desert air at end of august

Recently, the call of the mother land was too strong to resist, so I heeded it. I had forgotten what the desert was like. Green grass in 100 degree heat. Crickets chirping. There's a certain smell, too. And the way the light hangs in the air over the island for so long it seems like true darkness will never fall, while the stars peek out, and it seems to balance for an eternity even though the earth keeps moving...it's like time grinds to a halt for just a few seconds. That's my favorite time of day. Where I live, we don't have those few fairy moments where you can go outside at/after dark and have it be almost magical. I so enjoy that twilight time.

The air has a different quality to it. There are only a few weeks of the year where everything comes together, but the last week of August is really a beautiful time.

I love the nectarines, peaches, and raspberries of late summer. I enjoy drying in less than ten minutes when you're wearing a swimming suit outside. I love picnics with my family at the park - and this one had an added bonus of bagpipe players practicing.

I'm rotten at road trips, and I struggle with the glare and parched skin. But I'm really glad I was able to go and show my boys more things to love about where I grew up. Grateful for all the hugs and talks I got. I love giggling with my sisters - one at a time, or all at once. Happy for the generosity of so many toward me. Feeling the love - especially for the last week of August.

kilter

Kilter and off-kilter mean the same thing. I checked. I thought perhaps it was one of those "whelmed" things - like the movie says, '"I know you can be overwhelmed, or underwhelmed - but can you be just "whelmed?"'

akimbo is also a good word, though I always think of its secondary meaning before its primary (hands on hips, elbows out). it brings to mind weird modern flat style paintings, or ugly "art" sculptures in museums.

moon phases

the moon has eight official light phases
of which I find the most elegant-sounding to be "waxing crescent"
probably because I fancy straightforward meaning, and
when combined with an abundance of consonants
which I find comforting from a linguistic perspective
it imbues an illogical feeling that when I say it
"waxing crescent' - do it with me
that my brain is waxing in its knowledge crescent, too.

of course the most romantic is "full"
"full" does not sound romantic at all
it conjures mental feelings of distressed bladders, overstuffed bellies,
visuals of cups that are about to spill over if you look at them sideways,
people crying in gratitude, and
calendars that have lots of writing in the margin.

"full" does not accurately describe at all my feelings when I am under a moon at its largest
rapt, ethereal, cavorting, faerie, content, unafraid, bold, barefoot
these are words and feelings for the generous curve I see in the sky,
or things I want to be "more" or "full" of when I am under its soft beam of precious light.

life has phases, too.
suffice it to say, my children, my husband and I are each in phases of life.
Sometimes we are in the same phase - that one of eight -
and in that moment, peace reigns, time stops, and hearts are - well - full.

Sometimes, our cycle is off, and then our family becomes like an unbalanced washer drum
annoying, clanging, cacophony of emotions and tears that needs to be redistributed somehow
by the master launderer.
lately, the patience with the irregularities is waning, not waxing,
and lack of sync of our moon cycles is especially irritating.

one face of the moon jokes and smiles while another mopes about the sky
one face waxes in passion and irrationality; another is tired and drowning

the thing is, you never know when the cycle is going to stop spinning
so you've got to make the best of it - even if there's no soap - and use the light you've got
to make it through to the next full moon.
 

 

random and updates

I'm mad because I had a procedure done at the beginning of April last year and they just billed me for it last week. The amount is several hundred dollars, which would have changed my taxes considerably. I'm ridiculously peeved -- it's bad business, it represents Big Bad Healthcare in my mind, it's irritating to receive a bill so long after, and it's tied to a source of major stress in my life - a condition I have been spending hundreds of dollars and tens of hours on trying to get assessed, only to come up with a big fat nothing.

I'm going to try and remedy that situation next week, because the pain is becoming nigh on unbearable, but the combination of taxes, big money, and being tied to something else I'm already frazzled and frayed about is making an already bad situation worse.

I have a very thoughtful sister who went to Grandma's house and picked a few things for me to have as keepsakes. She asked very excellent questions and was most helpful and kind, as of course, is Grandma, who is making many hard decisions and is letting go of her house.

It's interesting how we need things and how we can get attached to them, and have so many feelings over them. I try not to get overly invested in things, but sometimes it's really hard. There is a box that I have tried to go through several times with my husband to decide what I want to keep from my "former" life and each time I just get frustrated and the box goes back in the eaves. Maybe I should just donate the whole thing without even looking inside next time I am tempted to go through it.

I won two haircuts at a service auction, which will both be used to trim N3's surfer hair. I can't call them locks, as that implies curls or wave in my mind. His hair is stick-straight, as is his father's. It's very unforgiving hair to cut, and he is like me in that he is afraid of going to new hairstylists. I have decided that the person who cuts both our hair gives satisfactory but not great cuts and that I will just not care as much about how my hair looks now that I have landed myself a HH. It's taken a long time to even start to get me convinced, but now I am well on my way. I never knew that I liked the "frills" part of a haircut so much - the consultation time, the shampoo, the blowout. Maybe someday when I have more disposable income I'll go back to it.

I had a neurological problem in my left thigh but I changed a few things and now it is doing much better, though my lower back is still really bothering me.

I started watching Poldark and have exclaimed to HH at least seven times, "I'm not sure I can keep watching this!" but yet I love the camera work and the lighting and the story is so gripping that I don't really want to stop. I have only seen through Season 1, but I'm telling you now, if Demelza dies, I'm out. (Don't tell me if she does. I don't want to know.) What kind of name is Demelza, anyway? I wonder if she ever got called "Melza." Her brothers probably called her "Smelza" just to bug her. (If I were a brother, I would probably stoop to such low levels, but maybe her brothers are better men than I am.)

3Ds

Recently, our van was out of commission for about 3 weeks, so we have ridden in my car everywhere. I am much more sensitive to what is on in my car now that I have kids in it most of the time, and so in order to keep them from listening to the ridiculousness that is Top 40 music (I swear, even three years ago, it wasn't so bad, but now it's five-word lyrics repeated over and over again about sex, which is annoying.). The 3Ds CD was in the disc slot, and one day I turned it on in desperation. I didn't actually think they would like it at all, but they have really enjoyed listening to the 3Ds poems. They have asked me to interpret each song. We are working on lyric interpretation, as most of their listening is top 40 pop (which they get from a source that is not me) or electronic music (their dad) or classical (me), so they have not had a lot of experience doing such. I never realized that listening to Simon & Garfunkel or the Beatles or Tom Petty or even Fleetwood Mac and understanding the lyrics could be difficult. But to some people, poems are really hard to interpret. So for now, I am lending my interpretation skills.

Their favorite, by far, is the Jabberwocky.   They love to do the high pitched "whiffle, whiffle!" with me. I used to quote it and they had no idea what I was talking about. But now they love it!

They needed explanation on "The Crayon Box" and "Gunga Din" multiple times. They sang them over and over again. N3 often sings parts of "Vinegar Man" randomly about the house. "Let's hear it again!" they say, and "Don't listen to it without me!"

I didn't remember that so many of the poems were about people dying. My kids are very sensitive, so I was afraid that it would make them emotional or ask awkward questions, but it was actually a really good discussion base. I have found that as a parent, if you go into answering any question with the mindset of "how can I be a good educator, and give them the full picture, with the least amount of bias possible and so they can understand it" instead of being at all worried about my own feelings, it goes a long way to having productive and really actually non-embarrassing conversations about a lot of things.

As I listened to the poems again, I thought about how different my perspective is now that I am an adult and a parent. As a kid, I thought that the Charge of the Light Brigade was saying, "Happily, happily, happily onward!" not "half a league". And I didn't realize that so many of them died...I just focused on the fact that I liked how the song was produced.

If you haven't listened lately, you should. It's a great record, for a lot of reasons.

http://www.phoenixrecords.org/inalbums.php

crepes

Tonight I made my family crepes for the first time. The boys had never had them before. I explained to them that this was a treat my mom used to make for my family sometimes on Sunday evenings. (We had our dinner early, thus prompting the occasion, even though we had a lovely roast and potatoes and veggies, all courtesy of HH, who makes Sunday dinner >90% of the time. He is so nice and lovely that way.)

They weren't sure about them at first, but N3 quickly got into the swing of things. I made a peach blend I wanted them to try; L balked at it most strenuously, which I thought was a little sad, considering how much he likes peaches and everything else that was in there. In the end, he did try it, but rejected it in future crepes in favor of other fillings, and ended up eating the maximum amount I allowed (a very generous six. What can I say? Sometimes I'm a softie.).

I have been introducing more new things to the boys that I had when I was younger: my siblings might remember carrot-and-pineapple salad, marshmallow banana pineapple slaw, turkey tetrazzini, and hamburger bean bake, to name a few. Some of them are better left in the past, but I have enjoyed telling the boys about the recipes and times we ate them when I was kids. I tell the kids stories of my past as often as I can so they can feel close to me and remember that I am not just a parent, but I was once a kid, too. Sometimes I found it rather hard to believe my parents were ever children. ;) Maybe that's true of everyone? I wish I knew more about the childhood years of each of my parents. I would probably relate even more if I did.

I found a new crepe favorite: honey butter. A friend of ours made some and gave Tyler a jar as a thank-you for favor he did her. We have used most of the jar on fresh bread, but there was just a bit left and we used it as a treat. Sadly, we had no whipped cream or fresh bananas. Perhaps that's just as well, as it kept my crepe consumption down.

I am so grateful for the love and appreciation my family shows me and that they are more grateful now than they ever have been for all the efforts I put into feeding them treats and balanced meals. Something that has really helped is having them mostly make dinner (especially simple dishes). Knowing the work it takes to make dinner happen has made them even more grateful for each night they don't have to do it - a sentiment I am familiar with. I do enjoy cooking, but when I was single I didn't have to do it every single night, as there were often leftovers. Now, I estimate I spend approximately 25 hours a week preparing and managing my family's food. If I didn't work, I would probably spend a lot more than that. It's a task that is time-consuming and sometimes seems thankless, repetitive, and (sometimes) frustrating, but I am grateful I learned so much about how to manage food resources when I was small. I hope I can teach my kids that lesson, too - but, for now, it's one lesson at a time, and tonight, the lesson was that eating treats together on Sunday night can be a boon for all in both bonding time and pleased tastebuds/tummies.

planting and little birds

I'm working on our garden. Farming, even on a very small scale, is more difficult than it would seem to be. Finding a configuration of where to plant where everything is companionable and without discord is tough stuff. Then, actually finding time to plant is also an issue, because I am busy planting other things - violin lessons for N3, homework projects, dinner every night, six hours a day at work, helping boys become men, attempting to exercise more to eradicate some unwanted inches as a result of stress, and attempting to have a measure of fun in each day before Mr. Sandman (who, I have found, has never had wavy hair like Liberacci), is the garden of my life.

I have harvests - small moments of bliss with my boys, calm moments in the shower, and a full belly after a stressful afternoon. Sometimes it feels like the planting is all there is, with nary a bean (magical or otherwise) of harvest. But that's not true.

A few weeks ago I taught a group of about 40 women a lesson on peace of mind and joy. I'm not really sure I was qualified, as I can be very anxious and worry a lot about things I don't really need to. But the thing is, even in the planting, you're not alone. You can plant seeds of worry or of hope, and sometimes heartache is harvested (un)expectedly from either source. You're not the only person planting, hoping, hurting, emoting. Take comfort in the fact that there are other gardeners, whether you can see their plants or whether they are seedlings in the ground. Some seeds are weeds and it's good to pull them out before they cover everything. To parody and paraphrase the Weepies, "We are all gardeners, with harvests inside, never know what plant will grow...is it one you've planted before?" Even if all you can see is a craggy bed with clay for soil, you can imagine a garden. Butchart Gardens is a wonderful example of a literal garden made out of something that a lot of people thought was unsalvageable. Maybe you feel like a tar pit and there's "nothing green or good in (your) world."

Don't give up. Be still. Breathe. Be light - your plants will need it. Believe me.

I'm not sure any of this really made sense. I think my brain is out of seeds right now. The point is: I hope everyone reading this can find a ray of hope in this day. And two rays tomorrow. There are bound to be clouds, but all gardens need some rain in order to grow. May you not grow weary in the planting, and enjoy every harvest, big or small, that comes your way.

poems for parents

Elusive, Fleeting

baby smell, all smiles
hugs, kisses, rocking cuddles
golden childhood days

Eternally Frustrating

screams, runny noses
repeat, and repeat again
clothes on floor and lights on

Ups and Downs

See that puddle of water, right over there?
 It's fruitless to ask how it got on the floor
Or who started the fight, or offered the dare.
And pointless to ask your kids if they want more
of sugar or game time or cheesy box fare
or please dust, do dishes, or at least one chore.
The answer is always "stuff," "duh" or "don't care."
It makes you smolder right to your parent core
Or want to never leave your most comfy chair.
It seems you, home, and all ideas are a bore
Sometimes they'll take til all cupboards are bare.
all food, feeling, sanity: just like Grinch lore.

But should they smile, reach out, and ask how you fare
You'll recall the reasons you'll always adore.f

that's the difference / New Year's Eve

Our furnace went out on New Year's Eve. It smelled like smoke, and I thought it might be in conjunction with the home automation system my husband was putting in. Not so. I then thought it might be the fridge, because that's where the smell was strongest, but also not so. Then I got the idea that it might be the furnace. Yes, so! (I love it when I'm right.)

It was less than 20 degrees outside at the time that this revelation came. We had houseguests and a one year of knowing each other party to have that evening (yes, the party did happen!) and I just thought, "I do not have the time for this."

But for me, New Year's Eve wasn't the "Remember when the furnace went out on New Year's Eve and we all froze half to death because of how cold that winter was?" Nope. Because my husband is handy, and we have a very awesome guy in our ward who was willing to tape 20 min of the Huskies game (turns out he probably shouldn't have watched, as I heard they got slaughtered) who does commercial furnace fixing to come and look at our problem. Turns out it was the blower, and it took a couple of hours, but my husband is a genius and figured out a way to, with one $10 part, jerry-rig it so we could be warm. My FIL is a sweetie and went to get the part for it, since there was one at a store near him, and we were only cold a few hours.

Instead of being miserable story worthy, New Year's Eve was fun and enjoyable. We all had a good time until L, at about 11:15 pm, when asked what he wanted to play next, said, "Snoozley Snoozle" and insisted on going to bed, and even though we told him he didn't have long to go, etc., somehow missed the fact that he was going to be giving up midnight bubbly and fireworks on delay tape from London, so there was a bit of a kerfuffle on New Years Day. But all in all, it was a very fun time had by all, once we got the blower bit sorted. (I did feel like the blower sucked up my husband for part of the day, so it was hard to celebrate properly, but I was being a bit ungrateful, I think.)

It occurred to me that it was a very different experience than what would have perhaps happened at the home I grew up in. Then, if we could not find someone to come out, we might have gone cold and it would have been "the freezing cold New Years," spawning many memories. As it is, it will be nice to remember because it was the anniversary of the first time I met my whole family. It was fun to recall the night we met and all the fun things we did then, too. 

Happy New Year!