The Carvers

help a girl get to mexico

2012-02-13T21:28:00.000-05:00

My dear friend Emilie is a gutsy woman who sometimes lives a quiet life of adventure as an English teacher, marathoner, blogger, magazine editor and mom of two. On other days, however, she chases down adventure, snags it with a lasso and rides off on it for the day, or even the weekend, always returning by Sunday night.

This time, though, she has her sights set on Mexico. Not for a measly afternoon or overnighter, but for an entire week. To a Las Olas Surf Safari for women!

Not only is that probably the coolest thing any of my mom friends have done, but she is on the verge of getting if for free!

I mean, c'mon!

The thing is, she needs your help. She wrote an essay- you know the usual "this is why I deserve to go to surf camp"- and was chosen to be the one of ten finalist. The finalists and their essays are up on the Las Olas website and now it's up to you America! (or at least the 10 American's that read this blog!)

In truth, you don't have to be from America to vote. I was simply going to the American Idol pep talk.

Pretty please vote for Emilie (one vote per email address) at http://surflasolas.com/NOMINEES2012/. Just scroll down and click on her name to generate an email. If this doesn't work you can send an email to scholarship@surflasolas.com with "I vote for Emilie" as the subject line.

Thank you for your help! Voting ends in a week and then she will find out!

(I'm not sure there are enough exclamation points in this post!)

2 moms, 2 babies

2012-02-05T20:59:00.000-05:00

When Ella was about 15 months old, we got a call from the women who taught our hypnobirthing class. "I've got two moms coming to class now. Okay if I put them in touch with you?"

A week later, Mindy and Charissa came over for dinner. Charissa was wearing a fire-engine red Tulane sweatshirt on a belly so full of baby it looked as though he might fall right out from under her sweatshirt any second. It being Mardi Gras time and Charissa being from New Orleans she brought a King Cake that her mom had mailed to her from the south. For the uninitiated, as I was at the time, King Cake is a danish-like cake with a hidden baby figurine cooked into it. Whoever "gets" the baby is said to have good luck, or a fantastic upcoming year, or maybe is bound to win the lottery. I guess I don't remember.

I just remember Charissa with her fake looking baby belly, the soft southern cadence of her words and Mindy's wide smile and genuine heart.

When we were having Ella we knew zero gay parents. We were happy to meet them and thrilled that we hit it off so well. The rest, the trips, the annual New Year's Ever parties, the dinners, the emergency assistance given, the sharing of kids and the endless hours of laughter, is history. Mindy and Charissa are the friends who help you when you garage floods or branches fall in your front yard over you power line. They are the people to talk you of the ledge and even help you take your Christmas decorations down every damn year.

Today was their baby shower to welcome their twins in a few short weeks!

I can't get enough of seeing a pregnant mom with her hand resting lovingly (protectively) over her belly. And Mindy makes a glowing baby maker.

In my ongoing attempt to live my life just south of utterly overwhelmed, I did not make a cake for the shower or paint my bathroom. Instead I got a delicious cake from Frank's bakery and washed the smudges off the in-need-of-a-facelift bathroom walls. Moderation here I come.

I even asked Mindy's mom and step-mom to bring some food and I bought the rest. I'm telling you. New leaf. Turned over.

(In the corner is my new shelving unit where I keep all my pantry stuff in jars so I can get to it easier and because I think there is something surprisingly beautiful about dried beans and grains. Emilie's husband, Sam, calls it my legume display.)

When I went to Frank's to pick up the cake yesterday, a man got to talking to our girls when he saw their faces pressed up against the bakery case glass. He told them they should get one of the mini football cakes for their dad. I was silent for a moment as the girls stared at him, mouths slightly agape, and then I decided my silence would send the wrong message to the girls. I informed him that they didn't have a dad. Then I determined that, while I didn't feel the need to disclose our family structure to this stranger pushing baked goods on my children, my lack of elaboration might be misconstrued by the girls.

"They have 2 moms," I told him.

"Wow. Two moms. I think it would pretty great to have two moms. Two moms is better than a dad, really. Moms are more loving than dads."

While I do still hold a fondness for the standard nuclear family, I couldn't help but think of his words while I watched Mindy and Charissa.

Two moms, two babies. One set of loving, gentle arms for each baby. The perfect ratio of infant to mom.

I've never been to a baby shower for twins before. It is so cute. They get two of everything!

Laurie, who helped me enormously with the shower, came up with this cool "money" tree.

We outfitted our breast pump with all new stuff for Mindy and got each of the babies felt booties. I could hardly stand it they are so cute.

There were 8 kids and 3 babies at the party. Our beloved babysitter, Olivia, came and supervised the kids upstairs. I'm pretty sure this makes her a saint. The energy of 8 kids felt a bit like Emerson's hair:

Mindy's step-dad, a fellow lover of cake and frosting, was looking forward to cake. He was even happy that it was a rectangular cake rather than a circular one so that there would be a corner piece for him. He was a man prepared. Check out the fork:

We have spent so much time telling Ella, and now Maya, how lucky she is to have two moms. How special it is. I knew we had perhaps gone too far one day when she said, "Oh, that's sad for her. She just has a mom and a dad." Time to dial it back a bit.

But check it out? I mean, seriously, how lucky are these babies going to be?

We, for sure, can't wait to meet them.

digging my way out

2012-01-31T21:58:00.001-05:00

My last post was "emerging." This time I had to go with a title that had more balls.

When Sandi started school last fall I had two fears: getting sick and our aged car breaking down.

Fate saw to it that both happened at the same time.

After my last post I was gearing up to "reign over my personal universe" as Zoe called it. The virus that had overtaken my body, making me think of that Dustin Hoffman/Rene Russo film "Outbreak", was also gearing up to reign over my personal universe.

I had the "gotcha" virus. Very scientific. Just when you think you have overpowered it, it grabs you, shouts "gotcha" in the snide way only a triumphant virus can, and takes you down again. I was sick for 2 weeks. By the end I had conjunctivis that made made my eye swell nearly closed, a sinus infection and bronchitis. And I had eaten all the dry cereal and popsicles in the house. Between my sickness, the kids getting bits of what I had and some ill-placed snowdays and teacher workshop days, I feel like I have been on house arrest.

But don't worry. It isn't like our car broke down, threatening to strand Sandi in Portland while I crawled around the house with one eye, trying to make supper for the kids and attempt not to cough up a lung.

Except it did.

All is well now. I am back on my feet with both ocular faculties and am chomping at the bit to get to the gym (if there is a snow day tomorrow my friends better lock their doors or they may find themselves with an extra couple of kids). Sandi has a new car and is down in Portland growing her brain cells like a chia pet.

Here are some things I have learned recently:

-There is pretty much nothing more awesome than eating at Pizza Hut with your seven-year-old who was teaming with pride to have choosen the establishment. Especially when she takes a bite of the chocolate pudding from the salad bar, sighs in delight and murmurs, "Delicious." (Ella and I had a date today. She didn't have school but Maya did.)

-The stomach bug beats the pants off a 2 week sickness. Twenty four hours of desperation is better than being sick so long you can't remember what being well feels like. (That being said, I do not wish to contract the stomach flu. I've paid my sickness dues for the year.)

-My life must have more meaning than driving, cooking, shopping, cleaning, and supervising. However it is the extra "stuff", organizing dances, baking for people who are sick or down, throwing parties, taking on projects, that both fulfill and exhaust me. I can't live with them and can't live without them.

- It's a good thing file taxes has a reward at the end.

- An unwavering want for cake means that I am out of balance.

-When I'm sick, I have very little fight and drive. I sleep, sit on the couch, watch TV and cannot even imagine how I normaly move so fast. If you ever need my consent for something major, ask me while I'm sick. You're chances are good.

- An overwhelmed mother does not make a good caretaker for an elderly, incontinent dog.

-Sometimes, after things go wrong for a while, they inevitably go right again.

My friend Ange sent this to me in a text today: "I wish I could do one thing and do it well and not half ass about 10 million things."

I so want a bumper sticker that says that.

emerging

2012-01-22T08:15:00.000-05:00

My apologies this post, like the others before it, has no pictures.

I was going to take a picture of the sign Ella made in pink bubble letters that says, "The Best Room" with an arrow pointing to her room (naturally) but the camera was being persnickety.

Which is fitting for the rest of how things have been going.

I am clawing my way back from a nasty five day cold that felt part head cold, part strep throat, part flu. I got the all-inclusive of sicknesses, complete with head congestion, runny nose (both of which led to sleep impairment), fever, sore throat, fatigue, cough and body aches. Mostly, the thought of bed overwhelmed any inclinations to pack lunches, drive people around and referee the knock down drag outs our girls are accustomed to.

Can I get an "amen sister" from all the moms out there that taking care of your kids when you are sick is, hands down, the suckiest part of parenting?

I had lovely offers from friends to take my kids, however Ella was sick with a lighter version of what I had and Maya was running a fever.   Sandi came home from Portland the evening of the third day, when I had crawled to the stove to make supper, casting longing glances at the driveway hoping to make her appear early. (It worked. She came home 15 minutes earlier than I expected.) Ella was home sick Friday and Maya was home healthy and I was praying for bed time as soon as I woke at 8 am. Sandi stayed home for a few hours and then was off to study, with the understanding that I could call her if I couldn't do it.

For a girl like me, calling "uncle" is a hard call to make.

I decided to visit the doctor Friday and dropped the girls at Tricia's (which is where Sandi studies, but with ear plugs). The PA told me to go home and sleep. I wanted to laugh in her face.  But thanks to Trish and Netflix streaming, I got a strep test (negative) and a nap before they returned.

By way of general updates I will tell you that Sandi's semester (2 credits more than last) is like going from the frying pan into the fire.   In addition to all the studying, reading and test prep she has to do she also has a class that requires an additional 5 plus hours of watching lectures on your own time.

Ella has turned into a pre-teen and sits listening to Lady Gaga (and Lady Gaga songs sung by the Chipettes) with her headphones on, singing off-key aloud. She is moody and mouthy and snarls and growls at us if we cross her.

Maya is more hilarious then ever and has become obsessed with my hair. She questions me several times a day if my hair will be straight, curly or in a ponytail tomorrow or when I pick her up or when I make supper. "You can have this necklace I made for you when your hair is straight," she will say. It is the strangest thing. She eats dinner as fast as she can manage so she can get down and become our supper entertainment. Last night, she was doing magic tricks (from the magic show I had taken them to that morning) including "disenterpearing" behind living room furniture and then popping out with flourish.

Maya always refers to the next day as "after bed." "So Mommy will be home after bed two times?" Finally Ella said to her, "Maya, do you know that another way to say 'after bed' is 'tomorrow'?"

I'm still searching for a name. I appreciate all the feedback! I feel like I'm on the edge of brilliance.

Wait, I think that basically describes my whole life.

resolutions and expansions

2012-01-09T07:02:00.000-05:00

Mostly the idea of a New Year's resolution appeals to me. But being the all or nothing kind of girl I am, I think it is only a good idea if I can and will achieve it. A discarded and unachieved resolution is like going to the trouble to buy really good new socks and having them fall behind the dryer never to be seen again.

However, being a tad of an overachiever, I am careful about what resolutions I make. I will not be pleased with myself if I don't complete it, yet how reasonable is it that I will be able to hike the 100 miles of wilderness, the hardest part of the Appalachian Trail, this summer in Maine?

You get the idea.

Plus, being one that likes to be successful, it doesn't hurt that this year I started and set my resolution simultaneously.

My 2012 New Year's resolution is....to start writing a book.

Wow, that seems big to say. But note it is just to start it, not to complete it. (That will likely be my 2013 resolution.) And I've already started. I have 7 entire pages written.

I started writing a book literally 11 years ago and worked on it on and off for 4 years. I got about 130 pages in. Then we had Ella and my life twisted and morphed into an entirely different landscape than my 20-something, childless outlook and I just couldn't seem to pick it back up.

A book I just finished resonated so deeply in me, I felt like I knew each sentence that would come next, almost as though I was writing it as I was reading. The dawning of inspiration began and a true want to write returned.

I told Sandi that I had an idea but I wasn't sure when I would ever make the time to write. I was certain that if I were to write I would have to MAKE time for it, time would never present itself on a silver platter to me. The house would have to be less clean (and I would have to be okay with it) and I would have to get less sleep if I were to create what I've heard so many successful writers tout: a writing schedule.

Here is the good news: writing feeds me and fulfills me in a way that emptying the dishwasher, cleaning the office and reorganizing the shoes by the back door for the third time in one day never could. It is a way for me to balance the every increasing demands of my life as a (mostly) stay at home mom and recently as a mostly single mom.

If you will forgive the drama....writing could be my salvation.

In a related note, I have decided to expand the blog. I'm not entirely sure how but I think I'm ready. I'm going to start with changing the name. I want something reflective of what it is that this blog offers, something about the value of honestly and realness with parenting and living as well as healthy lifestyles and eating and , of course, trying to take chocolate milk away from kids.

I'm in the brainstorming stage. I tried "two girls" .com because I liked the double meaning but that was already owned by some porn giant. "Just us girls" is a domain for sale, but for $2500. I want a name that is easy to remember, easy to read when it is smooshed all together and, mostly is representative of my blog. I also need a major overhaul of my layout and pictures but that is so out of my league it is like asking a preschooler to read Shakespeare.

If anyone has any ideas, I am open!

graduate school: an exercise in frustration, neural expansion and keeping fingers crossed that it is all worth it

2012-01-03T06:44:00.000-05:00

This is what my next six weeks look like:

Plan a baby shower for Mindy and Charissa who are having twins (!), plan the PTO Valentine's Dance which I was elected to do this past summer without my consent and I didn't have the brains to say no one I was nominated (I also have no training since last year all I did was help blow up some balloons), plan a party and write an article for on my semi-failed chocolate milk campaign at Ella's school for my friend Emilie's online magazine, Sparrow.

Oh, and fold the laundry, shop, cook, clean, drive, unpack Maya's ten purses that she has throughout the house containing random items like chapstick, dollhouse furniture, my jewelry, a single glove (naturally, not the set) and, god forbid, my car keys.

I should add to the list: try not to lose my mind.

Sandi's next six weeks, in fact next 5 months look like this: study, pack to go to Portland, study, drive to Portland, study, go to class, study, take a test, study, pack to come home, study, unpack from Portland, study and repeat.

Those folks down at UNE really know how to ruin a perfectly good vacation. Sandi was to be off from the December 16th until January 3rd. We both held our breath expecting them to give work over the break. No one did.

That is until about Christmas Eve.

The assignments started coming in. Read 7 chapters in this book. Watch 5 hours of lecture. Take an online quiz in this class. Oh, and you know that book you bought in the fall and paid $80 for? A second addition is out so please buy it again. And on and on.

The vacation that remained after Christmas took this form. Sandi: "I think if I study part of Thursday and Friday, that will be it and I will be able to just enjoy the rest of vacation." Then: "If I could study most of the day on Saturday then Sunday and Monday would be in the clear."

It turned out she had to study part of Sunday and Monday too and still didn't finish it all.

I mean, c'mon people. We knew it was a rigorous program. We knew it would be hard and wrought with tension as we tried to negotiate having a family with having UNE as a mistress. But, seriously, poor organization need not also be part of the stress.

I will confess I did not handle this ever increasing need for study time all that well. I know it isn't Sandi's fault and I feel for her, having to hole up in the office with ear plugs while the girls and I play. Sandi worked two twelve hour shifts in the ICU before Christmas and then with all the busyness of the holiday, we were SO looking forward to the down time before New Year's.

What can I say. I am so proud of us for making it through one semester and now she is halfway done with schooling in Portland so that is a plus. Mostly, though, I feel like we just settle back into our new normal, putting our heads down and working (her on airways, physiology and pharmacology and me on dances and baby showers) and try not to think too much about how hard it is to be worlds apart.

It doesn't help that last night, as I was confessing my overwhelm about my ineptitude to plan the Valentine's Dance, we realized that she will be in Portland that day for a training and won't even be able to help me get it off the ground and she might have to miss the dance itself. I worked really hard not to cry. I mean, it is only a dance for some little kids, right? RIGHT?

So I'm looking for a new wingman if anyone is interested....

Christmas rewind

2012-01-03T06:19:00.003-05:00

Hang on to your hats! Here come the Christmas pictures.

Between two school parties, my incessant baking, organizing teacher gifts, mailing out an abbreviated amount of Christmas cards, socializing and packing to get to Beals Island (oh and having an unprecedented number of clients) the week before Christmas felt a lot like this:

First stop, Beals Island to have Christmas with the Carvers the 23rd-26th.

Brevan got this awesome shark jaw from his grandparents. What could be cooler?

Ella wanted a pair of dress shoes and her grandparents got her two to choose from. She spent a great deal of time deciding which of the two to keep.

She settled on the ones with a heel. Whose surprised?

Sandi wore her elf costume for a third time this season, coming to Christmas morning in an official capacity.
The girls definitely seemed more mature this year. They were able to better handle staying up late and Ella even played the game Telustrations (it's like Pictionary meets the telephone game) with a little help from Tia.

Maya mainly doodled and kept a pen in her dress in a very official manner.

We gave Kenna this butterfly/fairy/princess outfit ratcheting up her cuteness factor exponentially.

I'm fairly certain that Trish is just using this picture as an opportunity to flash her engagement ring and who can blame her?

Patti and Dwight, my parents in-love, who always make Christmas so incredibly special.

It's possible there was some canoodling going on at Christmas:

Then it was back to our house for our family Christmas. It has never been our tradition to come downstairs and start ripping and tearing so the girls slept in and then ran downstairs to see if Santa had come (and if he had eaten all his heath bar- he had.) Santa brought Ella the high, high, high top Converse she wanted as well as a kid sewing machine and Maya got a baby doll (yes, another baby doll) and a sled.

While Ella sewed, Maya did some important work at her new "desk."

We got the girls a train set for under the tree:

After a year of saving up, Sandi finally got her ipad. The girls took hold of it right away.

We take all day to open presents. It's not that there are so many, it's just that we open one and play with it for a long time. We had a nice mid day meal with Tia and Uncle Brock, played some more and then spent the late afternoon snuggled on the couch watching "The Grinch."

Maya got these cool Converse shoes:

One of the things Ella really wanted was a "pick-up radio" as she called it. Between the Converse boots, the ability to stream dance music through Pandora and listen through new ear buds and the faux leather jacket she somehow acquired, she will right in style when the 80's (regretfully) return to the fashion world.

Then it was time to celebrate Christmas with my side of the family!

My sister and I had decided this year not to buy gifts for each other and to make gifts for the kids. The idea stemmed from a desire to cut back on expenditure but turned into such a wonderful thing that I'm guessing we will do it every year. The kids took such pride in giving and such joy in receiving from each other.

Braeden, opening the photo album Maya made for him:

Michaela, opening the pillow case Sandi helped Ella make:

Maya, the only child ever to be this excited to get batteries with a gift my mother gave her:

My mother looks forward to us making her a calender every year. For the most part we have kept it up, with a couple of years in there where we dropped the ball and she didn't fail to show her disappointment. It's full of pictures of our family, with quotes and birthday added in. I think this year was our best one yet (thanks to the ease of Shutterfly) and seeing her joy when she opens it is one of my favorite parts of Christmas.

Ella used her new potholder kit that we gave her for Christmas and made Aunt Kathryn her very own colorful potholder. I love the proud look on my sister's face here as she opens it.

The weeks leading up to Christmas this year were an exercise in compacting as much as possible into every breathable space (a skill of mine Sandi loves- insert sarcasm). The lead up and the actual Christmas have been wonderful, fulfilling, connecting, magical and completely and utterly exhausting.

I had all I could do to get us where we needed to be, have food prepared for gatherings, have gifts wrapped and aim to remember the spirit with which is it is all done. As a result I did not sleep enough, did not exercise enough (which is to say a tad excessively by most standards), and have at times eaten varied groupings of sugar, flour and butter with the vigor of an alcoholic headed for the Betty Ford Clinic in the morning.

So here I am at the cusp of the New Year, looking forward to the year for sure, and feeling a bit out of sorts and out of my normal rhythm.

In the end I know that I just have a love for a good party, serving people homemade food and having to put the leaf in the table to accommodate a table full. I want to accomplish this and still sleep, actually sit down and have a conversation with Sandi and, oh yeah, take care of two kids. I have yet to figure out the balance. This Christmas left me certain that I want to slow it down next year. The problem is I don't get a warning that I am close approaching too much. I only know it when I'm already there, have crossed the line and am careening down the cliff.

How does one make peace with her want for a house full of fun and the desire to not feel chewed up and spit out when it is all over? What is the answer? Catering? Platters from the grocery store? A maid? Perhaps live-in help is the way to go? I know that it wouldn't be as fun for me if I didn't plan the menu, make the food, lay it out on special patters and have people remark on how they like this or that. The truth is I don't want to take shortcuts because I revel in the doing. I just don't know how to not overdo.

Because when it is all said and done, I want to be amongst my family carving the Toferky.

Happy New Year everyone!

blog catch up: gingerbread making

2012-01-02T07:59:00.000-05:00

I have been taking a big 'ol blogger break so here comes Christmas in review. I try only to blog because it is fun and fulfilling to me and with all the craziness of the holidays it would have felt like one more thing on my list.

So here it comes....

The Thursday before Christmas was Ella's last day of school before break. It was also her holiday party at school which Maya, Sandi and I volunteered at. Sandi, god love her, dressed up in her elf costume from the Elf Yourself Party, complete with flashing light bulb earrings. I wore reindeer antlers, a jingle bell and the same light up earrings, leading one child to ask me, "Sooooo are you dressed up as a reindeer?" and glancing over at the elf, clearly disappointed in my effort.

We had such fun at Ella's party, and Maya was like an obedient little soldier, obeying the teacher's every request of her students. She sat criss cross applesauce (cross-legged) on the rug, she placed her hands in her lap while the kids waited for everyone to be served and she marched her plate to the trash as instructed when she was done. I said, "Maya the trash can is over here" and she replied, icily, "I KNOW where the trash can is."

One curious little girl asked Sandi who she was. "I'm Ella's mom," Sandi replied. "No, THAT'S Ella's mom," she said, pointed at me. Sandi said, "Ella has two moms."

Flummoxed, the girl asked, "How does THAT happen?"

Then we came home for our annual gingerbread house decorating with the Smiths. It was Anna's fourth birthday so we combined events. Or, to put it more simply: sugar, sugar and more sugar.

If the chocolate milk people could see me now.

Poor Ange had made the gingerbread, erected it into houses, allowed them to harden and hidden the blank slates for candy mayhem in a box in the back of her van since the whole thing was a surprise for Anna. This was apparently also a secret from Matt who unwittingly placed a six pack of beer on the secret box moments before they got to our house.

The kids made gingerbread tee pees instead, except for the birthday girl who got the only spared house.

When the pulled up to our house and said SURPISE! to Anna, she seemed slightly let down and said, "Oh, I thought the surprise was going to be a big tower of presents."

Leave it to a four-year-old.

In an act of great Christmas generosity, we let the kids use our piping bags to frost and decorate.

For Anna, though, it was all about the sprinkles.

Sandi and I look so tired in this picture. When I look at it 2 weeks later I want to shout, "Turn back now! The crazy is going to hit and you are going to be walking zombies on your feet!"

As for this picture I just like to call it: Future Engagement Announcement.

the intersection of baking and joy

2011-12-20T05:42:00.003-05:00

For years now we have baked food for our neighbors at Christmas. We would usually bake in the morning and deliver at night on a cold December evening, fighting the urge to just return home to the fire.

Since then our world has expanded in every possible way. Our neighborhood had an influx of younger people and families so further down our street we trudged, marking our new friendships with baskets, plates or tins of homemade food. Our ties to friends became deep and intertwined and so we began to get in the car to deliver after we had braved the cold on foot. We had children and our world exploded. I started bringing food to my friend Joann who I sublet massage space from and the people downstairs in the accounting firm. They appreciated it so much I put them on the list for the next year. I have clients that bring me gifts and Christmas and so they, too, were on the list.

I started baking in November this year, by far my most organized operation to date. I relied heavily on our basement freezer, early mornings, late nights and the occasional window of time one can throw a batch of cookies in the oven in the middle of the day.

Then it was time to assemble.

I made: heath bar, italian almond cookies, ginger snaps, orange and chocolate pinwheel cookies, peanut butter cookies with Hershey kisses, dipped pretzels, espresso crinkle cookies, truffle iced sugar cookies, peanut butter cups, butterscotch bark and a chocolate lollipop for each of the kids.

Emilie threw an adult-only cookie decorating party on Saturday (and wrote a great post about it http://www.onemominmaine.com/ ) so I put some of our fancy shmancy sugar cookies in there as well.

Twenty nine families in all! And that was by no means everyone we wanted to include.

We took all day to do it. I assembled in the morning and then Ella and I went to deliver them to all our neighbors. It was a cold December day but with the sun this year rather than the dark. Ella walked alongside me with her Christmas basket of chocolate lollipops for the kids and a giant smile across her face and I knew at once that she understood why this is so much fun for me.

After lunch we all piled in the car and, listening to Christmas music all the way, we made our way in a four-leaf clover pattern all around the area, delivering tins of goodies. I sat in the back with the kids much to their delight and amusement and my car sickness and we giggled all the way. Some houses we stopped for tea and a chat, others we ran in to give hugs and holiday greetings.

I felt like Santa Claus. If Santa had a streak of Betty Crocker and shopped at Old Navy.

I've decided that the bags under my eyes are a small price to pay for the immense joy this tradition brings me. Short of the wonder of Christmas morning, the exuberance over Santa, this is my favorite part of Christmas: love, sharing and baked goods.

Here's to hoping not all 29 people reciprocate...

When we got home I took a breath, relieved not to be planning my next batch of dough and another round of dishes when I realized Ella volunteered for Christmas cookies for her holiday party. I started the dough to sit in the fridge to be cut out after school.

Then Sandi said, "Hey, do we have any more heath bar?"

oops

2011-12-19T08:03:00.000-05:00

I've been talking to Maya a fair amount about the naughty and nice list. I kind of had no choice. She was SO naughty and belligerent at the end of Sandi's semester. She went from tuning it out to pleading with me to tell her if Santa will bring her presents if she has been having a bought of naughtiness.

I'm not sure what she is worried about, actually, since she tells everyone who asks that she doesn't want anything from Santa anyway. Perhaps she feels she is all set. Imagine that.

Yesterday, she was full of silliness. She was playing with her mouth in the backseat of the car in her typical, self-stimulating way: tongue out, blowing raspberries in a rhythmic pattern. As she watched her spittle shin in the sun she announced, "I have sparks coming out of my mouth!"

Her new line when she is about to perform a trick or a joke is, "Wait for it....wait for it...."

We went to a party Saturday night and our babysitter came over after the girls were asleep. Around 11 Maya came downstairs to find Olivia in the living room. Maya looked at her, didn't say a word, put her blanket over her head and spun around and went back up to bed.

Each year we do the Portable North Pole for the girls http://www.portablenorthpole.tv/home. If you have kids and haven't seen it, you should check it out. You get to personalize a video message from Santa. Super cute.

Sandi did one each for the girls while they were in the tub last night. They sat down to watch it, Ella first, as Santa told her he knew where she lives, how old she is, what she wants for Christmas and that he knows she has been working on being nicer to her sister this year. Then the elves put her "file" into a machine and the lights either light up green or red depending on the if you are on the naughty list. I'm telling you, they even insert some suspense in there.

Ella's, naturally, lite up green. Then it was Maya's turn.

Santa went through the same things with her and said he knew she was working hard to pick up her toys. Then her file went into the machine and, wait for it....BOTH lights lite up. Red and green. I stood there in stunned amazement. Then Santa announced that it was "too early to tell" and "there was still time to get on the nice list."

I decided in that moment that I had fallen love with Sandi all over again. I also had to leave the room in a laughing fit.

Maya apparently was mostly unfazed and Ella tried to give her a pep talk, as only those secure in their position on the nice list can.

When I came back out Sandi whispered to me, "I don't know how that happened!" She didn't mean to do it. She thinks she forgot to check naughty or nice and so it placed Maya in some sort of Santa purgatory.

We will have to an updated one in a few day.

Later that night she said to me, "Have you been naughty or nice today Momma?" I told her nice.
She replied, "Well, let me check my list." And she did.

holiday party, preschool style

2011-12-16T06:39:00.001-05:00

Maya had her holiday party at preschool yesterday and, just like when Ella went there, it is the cutest thing you ever saw.

They sing Rudolph, some lip syncing, other shouting, some with their arms folded pouting. They have coffee can lids with bells attached and sing jingle bells. They run all around the room, dragging you from place to place because it is so cool to have a parent stay at school.

Unfortunately, Sandi had her last final in Portland that afternoon so she couldn't come. To ease this pain, she had been able to drop Maya off last week for school and the teachers had Sandi stay while they practiced their songs. Naturally, I also video taped but it kind of just sucks to have to miss these bigger things in a child's life.

Maya and her friend Jackson:

The kids do a "finger play" which uses the hand to mimic the chimney and goes, "Close up the chimney, put on the top. Open up the top and UP! Santa pops." But Maya likes to say lid instead of top and it doesn't quite rhyme.

Just like Ella, Maya made us a hand and footprint reindeer. Now we have a 2008 and a 2011 one. HOW CUTE.

For the party, I made these pretzel snowmen. I even was the mom who let the four-year-old help instead of just doing it while she was in bed. I swallowed my Type A neurosis and let the eyes be cockeyed and the buttons askew. I am trying...

The really ridiculous part, though, was that I was talking with some moms at gymnastics and let them convince me to make snowbanks out of rice krispy treats to poke the pretzel rods into to hold them up. This I did after the girls went to bed. I drilled the proper diameter hole in the snowbanks, let it harden, dusted it with confectioner's sugar and voila! It was a complete disaster. The snowmen tipped precariously, the rice krispy bank was too shallow and couldn't hold them. So I made a second batch with less holes and more structural integrity. That bombed too. Finally, at 11 PM, I rooted around my pantry and found this silver pitcher and called it good, wondering all the while who spends 2 hours making an edible presentation for preschool grade snowmen??

Snowbanks or not, they were a huge hit.

There was even an appearance from a special someone. (Which is not the same as someone special as his red costume was not of the negligee variety.)

Maya simply adores her teachers, who were Ella's teachers, and we feel so blessed to have them. I can't help but think they have a soft spot for her having had her toddle around their rooms just a few short years ago and crying wildly when I had to drag her out of there every drop off.

a letter writing campaign

2011-12-15T11:36:00.000-05:00

Rest assured, Ella might not believe in overnight polar flights but she does still believe in the big guy.

Here she is writing her letter to Santa:

She requests a sewing kit, a caterpillar kit (where you grow caterpillars into butterflies- can you see them in the Maine winter?) with magnifying glass and book, some high high high tops (converse boots that look like the sneakers) and a radio that goes anywhere. There is a picture of the boot and a lot of "pleases" which pleased me.

Yes, our child asked for a boom box.

Hopefully Santa won't hold it against her that she doubted his messenger.

Maya dictated her letter to me. In it she requested a pink baby doll (god help us- do you know how many baby dolls she has?), a sled (awesome idea) and her very own gum (remember she has an oral fixation).

Meanwhile, the elves best get busy.

caught off guard

2011-12-12T12:07:00.000-05:00

The other day I was catching up with a mom I've known peripherally over the years while we sat and watched our kids' swimming lessons. Maya was sitting next to me on the bench. The woman looked over at her and said, "She is so cute. She looks just like your wife."

I swear I almost said "Who?"

I have never had anyone call Sandi that before.

Recently I have had people look at Maya and tell me, "She is so cute. She looks just like you. You must be so proud." As though I can take a single bit of credit for her adorableness. It is the strangest feeling and I never know what to say (shock of all shocks) and so I usually just let "thank you" suffice. I mean Maya is cute even if I had nothing to do with it.

And regarding being speechless, I had no idea how to respond when Maya said this to me this morning: "I want Mommy to be home. If Mommy is at home I can love you. But I just cannot love you if she isn't. I won't do it. I won't love you without Mommy."

I did the only thing I could do. I called Sandi and tattled on her.

I'm pretty sure that Maya is just making me her punching bag for all of her frustrations regarding Sandi's absences, but I can tell you it is getting old. Every limit I set, every thing I ask of her (teeth brushing, hair brushing, getting dressed, getting in the car-you know, all the unreasonable things parents ask of their children) she howls that she wants Sandi and fights me every step. So yes, I tattle on her sometimes just so she can hear Sandi provide the united front.

Translation: it isn't Momma's fault that Mommy is gone.

I think I need a t-shirt that says that.

blantant lies for the cause

2011-12-11T19:54:00.002-05:00

I confidently thought we would have two more years out of Ella regarding the Santa subterfuge.

After watching our nephew with his Elf On The Shelf, we decided this would be a fun tradition. (For anyone who doesn't know EOTS it is an elf doll who is purported to fly to the North Pole every night, ala Christmas magic, and report to Santa about children's behavior. Each night he returns to a different location and part of the fun is finding him each morning. Children are allowed to talk to the elf but he is under strict orders not to respond and if they are not to touch him lest he lose his magic.)

Ella was beyond excited when they opened an early present Santa had left by the fire overnight. They quickly named their elf Jingles and he found a perch up high on a curtain rod. I think Ella was as pleased that Santa would get reports of her stellar behavior as well as Maya's occasional naughtiness.

We were heading upstairs to get dressed and she started asking.

"Mom, is it really you that moves the elf every night?"
"It's Christmas Spirit," I answered.
"Yeah, but is it really you? Tell me, I want to know."

GULP. Double gulp. I was ahead of her on the stairs, infinitely grateful my face wouldn't belie the heavy internal conflict I was feeling.

Lie outright to your child in the name of preserving another year or two of magic? Or go with honesty, confess to chopping down the cherry tree, and rip your child's magical Christmas moments out from under her before breakfast on a school day with no warning whatsoever.

Let me just say right about now I've kinda got a resentment against this 8 inch high elf perched haughtily up on our speaker shelf. I'm sort of wishing we never invited him in.

I've had issues with the lying over the years. Many, many people have recounted to me their amazing childhood Christmas's and said they were glad their parent's lied about it and they never felt betrayed when they found out the truth.

So I replied, "As far as I know, it is Christmas Spirit that moves the elf."

She let out a big breath in a rush, "Oh PHEW! Okay, I believe you. So how can he see us when we are upstairs or at school? I wonder what he will tell Santa about Maya. Does he really go back to the North Pole after Christmas or does he go in the basement with all the other Christmas decorations?" And the questions began.

I came downstairs, away from 'ol canine ears, and pulled Sandi aside. She was as conflicted as I and added a new dilemma to the quandary. What if Ella goes to school and tells the kids about the elf and some mean, Santa stomping kid says, "That is just a doll you buy at the store. There is no Santa." How would we pick up the pieces to that specific heartbreak?

But this is the risk we run at her age. My niece, at age 8 last year, was still a firm believer. I don't know if we have one more year from our super sensitive, innocent girl but shouldn't we at least try?

Ella was telling her babysitter Kassidy about the elf last night. This is what she said, "He flies to the North Pole every night to see Santa and then he comes back and sits somewhere different. It's good he can fly because it would be really hard for him to walk since his hands and legs are sewn together."

They are too. Take a look:

I thought this was the end of it. Then today she asked me again if I moved it. Sandi had so I told her, honestly, I had not. She was not convinced and was near tears asking over and over through the morning. Finally, we decided we had to tell her.

Sandi told her that, in fact SHE had moved the elf the night before and that I told her I hadn't because I hadn't. Ella cried. Hard.

She told us that she knew he kept track for Santa (she even said, "I still believe in Santa") but that it didn't make sense to her that he could fly every night. At one point I asked her if she would rather we hadn't told her the truth. She answered, "I'm glad you told me the truth. But I wanted to believe it. I just wish that it was true. I don't like that the truth is that you move it." And she grieved all day long. On and off tears she couldn't explain but I knew the cause.

I feel like her childhood is slipping like sand between my fingers.

At least for now she still believes in the magic ornament that has candy inside it when Santa sees they are being good...

elf yourself!

2011-12-10T09:03:00.001-05:00

Last night we went to Tricia and Brock's third annual Christmas party.

Each year the party is based on a Christmas movie. In years past it has been The Christmas Story and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. This year it was our personal favorite: Elf.

Now, if you've never seen Elf some of these pictures will be lost on you. However you should be able to feel the level of dedication to the costume tradition and the fun had by the movie-based trivia game.

To summarize for the Elf uninitiated: Elf is a movie about Buddy the Elf (the hilarious Will Ferrell) , who has been raised by Elves only to find out at age 30 that he is a human. He takes his elf upbringing and childlike spirit to New York City in search of his father, a workaholic man who isn't very nice and happens to be on the Naughty List. Hysterics ensue.

Our hosts:

This was the first year Kristi and Michael made it up from Beals Island to attend.

The whole gang:

There is a scene where Buddy, who is 6 '3", sits on Papa Elf''s (his adopted Elf father) lap.

Sandi went as an Elf and I went as a gift "For Someone Special." Buddy in all his childlike innocence buys his father a negligee in a department store simply because the display says it is for someone special. So yes, I dressed in a negligee.

The trivia game is a very serious undertaking. Trish asks the questions and Brock is the official judge and score keeper, utilizing a loose association of fairness as his guide. There was even a final question, jeopardy style, with wagering and everything. This year's game included dancing, making up stories, reciting lines from the movie verbatim or simply answering questions about movie specifics that varied in three levels of difficulty.

There was a lot of thinking going on.

And conferring over answers. (Yes there were two nuns at the party.)

Here is where I will say that our team won the game. Sandi and I had made flash cards and quizzed each other all week. We knew how many cookies Buddy had put in the VCR (11), at what age Papa Elf made master tinker (490) and how many etch-a-sketches Buddy was off pace when making toys in Santa's workshop (915 for the day). What can I say? We are slightly competitive.

Trish was dressed as Leon, the North Pole snowman.

Trish, sitting next to her first completed puzzle- "electric sex" from The Christmas Story.

I tried flying solo on the cake making. Let me just say I learned a lot. I worked on it for 7 hours (all while the kids were gone or asleep) and it was so fun for me, bumps under the fondant and excessive butter cream in the layers and all.

The three sisters and their husband, fiance and partner. This picture makes me feel so fortunate for such love

and fun in our lives.

There are 4 food groups for Elves: candy, candy corns, candy canes and syrup. There is a scene from the movie where Buddy makes breakfast for his family which consists of pasta and maple syrup. On his own he puts marshmallows and crushed pop tarts as well. We were sent home with goody bags with pasta (ours was whole wheat), syrup, pop tarts, candy corn, candy canes and, our favorite, the 2011 mix of Christmas music. Trish and Brock know how to throw a party!! It makes me so sad that we have to wait until next year to do it all again!

living under interrogation

2011-12-08T05:39:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure what is up with Ella lately but she has developed a new level of need to know.

She questions me about EVERYTHING.

This is the way a typical car ride with her can sound:

"When are we going to get there?"
"Who else will be there?"
"Will they get their before us or after us?"
"Are there any other birthday parties this month?"
"What are we having for supper?"
"What are we doing next weekend?"
"Where are the people in front of us going?"
"Who were you talking to on your phone? What did you mean when you said you would see her later? Who? Who are you going to see and when?"

Every question when we are putting her to bed is, "What are we doing tomorrow?" When I pick her up from school, before she can tell me anything about her day, she asks, "What are we doing now?"

I feel like I'm living under CIA surveillence. All my privacy is gone. I put a piece of gum in my mouth and in an instant hear, "What are you eating?" from the back seat.

I think we need a personal consult from Thich Nhat Hahn, the buddist monk who teaches about living in the moment.

Part of this is certainly my fault. I am a need to knower myself. I like to know what is coming. I like to know a timeline and a general plan. I can't help myself. I formulate plans in my head constantly for the best way to undertake a day or a list of errands.

Some would call it neurotic. I call it efficient.

As much as I downplay the role of biology in who someone is, every now and then the understanding hits me with the subtly of a baseball bat to the head.

There are so many ways that Ella is like me. She gets stomach aches, has soft teeth prone to cavities, she gets car sick, has a penchant for chocolate, has a hard time with transition and cries easily when something comes to an end, she has a sweet tooth and is deeply sensitive about what other people do and say to her. (The later three I've trained out of myself and I can only hope the same for her.)

On the other hand, Maya has the physicality and inherent athleticism of Sandi. She has her fierce independent streak and her willful determination. Maya likes to do every last thing "by her own" and will cry before she will ask anyone for help. She has Sandi's sensitive skin, her piercing blue eyes and her narrow hips.

To even out the overload of genetics from one mom, Sandi and I choose donors for the girls' who were like their non-biological mom. Ella's donor was a male version of Sandi and Maya's a male version of me. Interestingly enough, the girls have the exact temperaments of their non-biological mom. Ella is introverted and quiet like Sandi, feels things deeply and doesn't want any attention on her. Maya is wildly extroverted, loves to be the center of attention and thrives in social situations. Sound like anyone?

Temperaments aside though, the inherent quirks of our girls still reflect the mom in whose belly they grew from the size of lentil to a bona fide human being.

But back to Ella's future in counter intelligence.... if I can get past the intense irritation her questioning provokes in me, I might see that she is very anxious and is seeking some control. I'm searching for ways to help her with this but I am not entirely sure what is helpful.

One of the things I strive to do as a parent is adopt a non-emotional, breezy attitude to their chaos so that I am not wrapped up in their emotional storms. I am successful at this about 5% of the time. When they yell at each other I would ideally not yell at them to stop yelling. When Ella asks what is for supper and is displeased with the answer, I would ignore her complaining rather than lecture her about the kids who don't have food. I would not feel pressure to have a plan for Ella every time she needs one and when she is unhappy with that I would shrug and let it go instead of telling her that my job is not to be her cruise director.

Perhaps instead of aggravation she needs to hear: "It seems as though you are nervous about this situation and want to know more about it. I will tell you what I know. Other than that I guess you will have to wait and see."

Easier said then done when that is followed by, "Why don't you know more? Didn't you ask?"

Piper Mountain 2011

2011-12-06T07:53:00.003-05:00

It is that time of year again!

Time for the annual trek to Piper Mountain Christmas Tree Farm to hunt down the perfect tree, chop it was an ax (okay, a buck saw), enjoy some hot apple cider and donuts and do some ornament shopping.

We have been making this trip since before the girls were born and we have never missed a year. Rain, snow, mud we always show up there to personally select our tree. The girls adore it.

Instead of the usual horse drawn hay ride, this year we got on a 2 horse open sleigh (with wheels).

The girls had to do some tromping. Maya had on two different boots for the lumberjacking occasion.

Their favorite part besides the donuts? Yelling "TIMBER!"

It took a lot of cajoling last year to get Ella to put her head through the tree. This year she flat out refused which meant I had to do it with Maya.

I would imagine Ella is a fair amount colder with the cold air flooding into that gap in her mouth.

Better than cutting the tree, though, is decorating it. Ever since the girls were babies we have been saving ornaments for them. They were each given a bunch their first Christmas and ever since we let them each pick out one every year at Piper Mountain. Each girl has a box with her ornaments in it (Ella having 3 more years worth than Maya). We label the ones we can with the year and keep them in their designated boxes.

The tree is decorated in a haphazard, bunched up sort of way with a heavy ornament concentration on the bottom. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I asked Ella if she knew why we did this. She said, "because you love us?" I said, "Well, yes. But also so that when you grow up and have a tree of your own you will have all kinds of ornaments to put on it."

And then I went and cried my head off.

Christmas tree up! Holiday baking and freezing begun! Christmas parties to attend! Music filling the house and lights strung all over our kitchen and living room you don't even need the overheads! Hello Christmas!

Maya Moo, Maya Papaya, Captain Crazy Pants

2011-12-01T20:22:00.000-05:00

When you are looking for a good candidate to run a small nation you might hope for tenacity, intelligence, determination and a strong sense of purpose.

If you are looking for a well-behaved four-year-old, you likely are hoping against these characteristics.

Maya is like a little mini-tyrant these days. She snarls and growls. She spits and kicks and hits. She yells, "I don't like you anymore!" and "You are mean to me! You hurt my feelings!" when you try to save her from moving cars in a parking lot.

My mantra is, "I want to raise an independent, motivated, strong girl. These are traits to be celebrated."

Which is all well and good until you would rather shave your legs with tweezers than resolve yet another conflict.

This morning she went upstairs with me to get dressed. She wanted to do it herself. Fine. So what if she wears polka dot tights, a teal floral skirt, a white shirt with a colorful reindeer, a velvet half shirt and brown cloth boots to school?

In the process of exercising her independence, she put her tights on backwards so that the heel was facing forward on the fold in her foot. She howled. I offered to help. "I want to do it by my own!" she screamed. "GET AWAY!"

She cried some more. Skyler and Ella dared to enter the room where she was standing there half naked and she bellowed at them: "Get out! I don't want you in here when I'm getting dressed!" Then in the next breath, "Why am in here alone?! Why won't anyone help me?? I can't do this!"

I'm telling you.

After the dressing debacle I was searching on her head board for a toy of Ella's she had taken. I found it along with my favorite necklace and earrings and several hair pins. Last night I found a stack of stuff she is hiding behind the claw foot bath tub in the bathroom.

Maya also has mouth issues. As in her mouth needs constant stimulation, either by talking, contorting it into faces or putting things in it. She has taken a shine to gum chewing and asks for it every time she gets in the car. I have to try to reason with her (yeah, right) to ration the two pieces per day I have decided are reasonable so they aren't all gone by 10 am. When her gum runs out she cries from the back seat, "But my mouth is hungry!"

So are you getting this picture? We have a sneaky, self-willed, furious, 3 foot high hoarder with an oral fixation among us.

It's a good thing she is so damn cute, is entirely, ridiculously hilarious and just when she pushes you to the edge and you would willingly jump off, she wraps herself around you and says, "I just love you so much."

It makes it all worth it. I think.

a whole bunch of random stuff

2011-12-01T08:07:00.000-05:00

I wish to confess that one of the most stressful things about this fall has been ordering our girls' school pictures.

They are done by different companies which offer different packages and sizes. Ella's offers 4x6. Maya's does not. In order to give aunts and grandparents 5x7, it means I need to order a bunch more 5x7 to the tune of $80 plus shipping. That would be on top of the $80 I've already spent. I pulled them all out this morning trying to see if I could make it work with what I have and just put them back in the folder, deciding pictures were not worth this much stress before 7 am.

Maya told me yesterday morning, "My neck hurts." She pointed to her throat which was what actually hurt.

I got the results back from my holter monitor test (not halter, I stand corrected.) It turns out that I have a rather obscurely named syndrome called Wenkebach which is a benign arrhythmia. I have a friend who is a cardiologist who read the report and went over it with me on the phone, assuring me many times that I would be perfectly fine and that my heart is just pacing itself. He even told me that the condition is more common in athletes. So I guess I have the flattering kind of heart arrhythmia, then.

The really crazy part is that while I was on the phone hearing his reassurances that my death was not imminent, my doctor's office was calling to tell me the results of my test were abnormal and to schedule more tests. And we wonder what is wrong with healthcare?
I asked Maya if she would please come upstairs to get dressed. She said, "Maybe next year."

I told Ella we weren't going to do something she wanted (it was probably a trip to swim with dolphins in the Caribbean) because it was too expensive. She replied, "But you and Mommy have plenty of money. You always have money wherever we go."

When I went downstairs to hunt for Christmas lights, I found a mouse/rat jumping in the corner of the basement. I'm not certain of its rodent classification because we weren't in close proximity and I have no vermin expertise, but it seemed too large in size and the jump appeared too big a feat for a mere cutie mouse. We don't live far from the river and apparently river rats are not uncommon in basements in our neighborhood. Yes, apparently we live in THAT kind of neighborhood.

Will you think more or less of me when I tell you that once I got past the initial ICK factor, I thought well, it is getting cold outside. Perhaps it wouldn't be SO bad to leave it be. We won't bother it and it won't bother us.

Then I told my friend Sam about it and he basically gave me a slap across my bleeding liberal face (kindly but firmly) and reminded me about all the babies that rat would soon be having.

I went right to the hardware store. I almost threw up when I bought the trap and again when I set it. With peanut butter no less. What human or rat can resist peanut butter? Is this even a fair trap?

While we were in the hardware store, Maya was looking at the rat poison and saying, "Look! Mouse food!" Not exactly....

being thankful

2011-11-29T20:05:00.002-05:00

There was really so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

First of all Sandi had a short break!

Secondly, we are all healthy and intact. Our little family of four has so much to be grateful for and amazed by.

Third, and this one grows every year as I grow older, we have the most wonderful families.

We spent Thanksgiving day on Beals Island with Sandi's family. Her mom puts on a massive spread for 22 people and makes it look easy. We help even though she could do it blindfolded with one hand behind her back and tap dancing while whistling Dixie. My favorite part of the day is actually the cooking and preparing more than the actual meal, and having the Macy's Thanksgiving parade on the TV. We laugh and drink coffee, consult the master list, tell stories, play with the kids and no one has anything else to do but cook food!

There was a lot to do to get ready for the big meal.

There was a table to set. Maya was very serious about her job folding napkins and placing utensils. We all ended up with forks, knives, teaspoons and tablespoons so we were ready for anything that came our way.

Ironically, I was stuffing cream cheese into celery which I detest.

Ella played a rousing game of Hungry Hungry Hippo with Tia and Uncle Brock.

There was some drinking to be done.

And some couch sitting as well.

Ella had practiced being a dentist by spending the day wiggling her loose tooth. I have never seen such determination in that girl. She is brave AND tough and had her sights set on knowing if the Beals Island Tooth Fairy is more generous than the Hampden one. (She is. Who is surprised?)

There was even a potato rocket to launch. (Don't ask me. Brock's from up north and I guess there is a lot of time to play with PVC and hairspray and and come up with fun things to do with the overabundance of potatoes.)

Mostly there was just so much damn love.

I'm not sure the conversation going on between Kenna and Kris here but it looks important.

Ella was joyfully overwhelmed as she considered her pie choices.

Sandi's dad, Dwight, (the main man in our girls' lives) openly talks about his empty nest and how he wishes he had "a whole charge more kids." He was a happy man to have the chaos of having everyone at home.

Then on Sunday we were off to my sister's house for Thanksgiving with my family. From the loud crowd of 22 to the very energetic crowd of 9. Our families are different in a lot of ways but love is the resounding theme.

Ella informed Sandi that we needed to bring the bounce house. "It is a Thanksgiving tradition," she told her. Who knew?

My sister and I have a tradition of making pot pies with all the left overs. We've only gotten more serious about the tradition as time has gone on. We watch people's portions carefully to be sure there will be enough to fill the pies. Kathryn even bought me a new pie dish this year. Yes, she is that kind of wonderful sister that everyone should be so lucky to have.

(I am ashamed to admit that I failed to take any pictures this holiday which means there are none of Sandi, because she was on the wrong side of the camera, except this pathetic one with her reflection in the window.)
Toferky pot pie. Yum. The secret ingredient? Cranberry sauce.

There was even a sighting from Jasmine and Cleopatra,

and a very affectionate Snow White.

The kids felt they needed to work off some of their Thanksgiving indulgence so after some amazing chocolate peanut butter pie my sister made, they hit the treadmill.

What a lucky bunch.

For all my family, original and adopted, for all my friends who are like my family, for our great house, a basement full of wood and yummy, healthy food to eat....I am grateful.

birthday parties, the need for valium and crossing the cake barrier

2011-11-20T08:09:00.001-05:00

On Friday, I got to step behind the curtain and learn the secrets of cake making.

My friend Melissa, a self-taught master of extraordinary cakes, knew of my want to learn cake decorating and offered to teach me on Ella's birthday cake. Considering that she is a busy mom, student and has two jobs, this was no small offer of her time and talent.

I decided on a fairy house cake for Ella, since she is forever making them in the garden. With Melissa's direction, I made the cakes, filled them and froze them (top and bottom separately) and brought them to her house for a lesson in carving, frosting, rolling and affixing fondant, stabilizing cakes with wooden dowels, dying coconut and a whole bunch more.

And the end result? Seriously more amazing than I would ever have even hoped for.

Because Ella's birthday was on a school day and Sandi was in Portland, we decided to have "Ella's Birthday Observed" over the weekend when her party was. This meant an entire day of dual parental attention and adoration, special treats, presents and a party to boot.

Ella went to sleep Friday night saying, "I can't wait to wake up and see my balloons and open my presents first thing just like Maya did."

Good thing we aren't setting any precedents.

Naturally we set the alarm for 3 a.m. to get up and blow up the helium balloons. (Do other people do this?) Then back to bed until 6:30, some family snuggle time in the big bed, where for once no one had to run off to some task or responsibility, then downstairs to find exactly what she had expected.

It's true, birthdays in our house are definitely holidays in and of themselves.

We always give a small gift that the non-birthday child can enjoy. This year it was fuzzy cleaning mitts because they are really into cleaning. (Not the helpful kind of cleaning.)

We spent the morning making waffles, snuggling on the couch, reading, being entertained by Maya our personal jester, and playing nail salon.

I also let Ella put make-up all over my face including, and I'm pretty sure I get a mom gold star for this, MASCARA. I went out to put some party stuff in the car and waved at a woman walking her dog. She didn't wave back. And then it hit me... I look like a circus clown.

Ella really wanted to wear her new birthday outfit to her party. Sandi was concerned about the immodesty of roller skating in a skirt and so she fashioned Ella some "shorts" out of a pair of Maya's size 18-24 month tights.

I'm telling you Sandi and I each have our strengths and they are not the same.

As a wonderful birthday treat, our niece and nephew came over to hang out with us for a few hours before the party.

I love this picture because Makenna looks so bad ass with the lip gloss. It also highlights the physical differences of these girls. Kenna, who was 2 in July, is the same size as Maya. At her well-child visit last week Maya ranks in the 25th percentile for size and Kenna is a tank so I guess it stands to reason.

Then out to lunch to Pat's Pizza (Ella's choice) before her party.

For her 7th (going on 13th) birthday, Ella decided to have her party at the roller rink.

Along with 500 of her closest friends.

Seriously, the place was PACKED. There were SEVEN birthday parties happening.

I will confess, I don't love kid's birthday parties in general. There is usually a time when I hit my stimulation threshold and I want to flee the building. My own children's parties are no exception.

The problem is I hit the threshold before we even made it through the door. There were hordes of people trying to get into the building, kids everywhere, people falling down on skates, crying children and a constant need to track down the "party specialist" so they could unlock the party room. Yikes. I felt like I needed a Valium or a drink.

I put on skates so I could skate with Ella and while I was standing on the carpet talking to my sister, a kid fell into me from behind, hitting me without warning in the back of my knees and taking me down to the floor. This did not help my stimulation issue.

Ella was psyched to get a riding helmet from Tia and Uncle Brock!
(I'm not sure what Maya was by the look on her face.)

Ella had fun, but she didn't want us to sing happy birthday to her and she cried a bit when we did. (Should we have not?) She didn't want to go in the prize machine, an honor bestowed upon the birthday child and cried even when we told her that was fine. She told us on the way home that there were too many people and it was really hard to find her friends. That made me sad and relieved because I don't think we will have to repeat the anxiety inducing experience again.

We took the rest of her gifts home to open. It was so clear that people know her so well and got gifts so well suited for her.

Including this lovely Hello Kitty shirt from the Smith's. I told Ange to walk in to Target and pick out the shirt she thought was ugliest and get that one. Ella LOVES it.

The girls also enjoyed their sucker pops. Ella's was a very classy ring she won in the arcade....

while Maya went with something more along the gangster route.

I collapsed into bed with exhaustion and relief from putting two birthday parties on in 3 weeks.

Despite the crowds and the crying, I think (hope) Ella had a good day. In true Ella form, she was sad when we put her to bed because her special day was over and it would be so long before there was another.

I told her she is lucky her birthday is so close to Thanksgiving and Christmas because special days abound (more so than, say, if your birthday is in March). But, alas, she does not let go of things easily and she has looked forward to this day for about 6 months.

As we were packing the kids up to leave yesterday, a tween girl came up to me and said about Maya, "Oh, she is so cute." I looked around at our little family and my chest burned with a mix of gratitude and love for them, for US. I remember being a kid and looking at families where the kids and parents seemed happy and I would be overcome with jealousy.

And here I was, a thirty something mom helping my kids into their coats, my beautiful partner by my side and I could see, as if from the outside in, just how blessed we are. This is our family, one we have created from the ground up, fought for, forgiven for, compromised and sacraficed for and loved more deeply than we thought possible for.

We all get to go home together and have each other forever.

turning 7

2011-11-16T21:50:00.003-05:00

There is something hauntingly sad about the last day your child will be six.

Even if you can see that she is already seven.

When Ella was about to be born, Sandi and I were just about dead with excitement. My OB had set an evacuation date of sorts for Ella due to my having Type I diabetes. If she was not born by the 39 week, I was to be induced.

The start of week 39 was on a Tuesday and, having produced no baby, I was to call that morning to find out if there was room at the inn so I could be hooked up to the Pitocin drip. Sandi and I spent Monday twiddling our thumbs, packing and repacking our stuff (the cd player! the lotion! ha! what a joke!) and making chocolate chip cookies for the labor and delivery staff.

But alas, Tuesday was a busy day for the legitimately laboring and so I was told to stay home and wait until Thursday since my doctor didn't work on Wednesdays. I remember that day being so melancholy. They might as well have told me that I wasn't going to be having the baby ever by telling me I had to wait two more days.

Wednesday morning, days off be damned, I woke at about 4 am in labor. We were at the hospital around 6 and I spent the next few hours experiencing pain-free hypnobirthing labor. (Bahahahahahaha!!!!) More like, I rolled around, moaned and vomited and that cd player, the massaging of the feet and the aromatherapy never made an appearance.

By 10 am I was ready to push. I remember looking at the clock and thinking, by noon I will be holding my baby. Sandi's sister, Kristi, said that at 11 The Price is Right came on and she thought, this baby is going to be born during the most exciting hour of television.

We were both wrong.

After 3 hours of hearty pushing, Ella wasn't making much progress into the world. Finally, Dr. Lebowitz had to affix the vacuum to her head and suck her out. She had a reluctant start (especially compared to Maya's astonishing 4 minute delivery). A third degree tear later, I was finally holding my solid 8 pound 9 oz baby in my arms.

And Dr. Lebowitz said, "You two are the ones who brought in the cookies? No one EVER brings us in cookies." He said all this as he stitched me up. At least we were known as the cookie bearers instead of the lesbians.

And now, seven years later...

There is so much to love about Ella. She adores animals, her family, processed food, clothes and sometimes even her sister. She has a big heart, cares a lot what other people think, always wants to know what is coming next, loves to snuggle and cuddle and still has her beloved security blanket and she sucks her thumb when she's tired. She has lost three teeth, has just crossed the 50 pound mark and can turn Pandora on her favorite station on the stereo. In the past few months she learned to read, roller skate, ride horses and swim in the deep end. And she kicks ass on the monkey bars. She has chores, and allowance and gets to stay up later than Maya a few nights a week.

Ella is a rule follower, a distracted dreamer and a creative thinker. She often lacks self-confidence and bravery unless she is absolutely certain of her skill and surroundings. She is, as my mother has always said, discerning. She is thoughful and often wise, making me wonder if she has an old soul.

Her favorite vegetable is celery. Her favorite food is french fries, although she will lie and tell you its soup. She won't eat anything with nuts in it and if you put crumb topping on a muffin, she will nibble it off and leave the rest. The only cheese she will eat is sharp chedder. She doesn't like milk. The only bagel she will eat is blueberry from Bagel Central and only with a smear of cream cheese. And to be fully inconsistent, she goes crazy over cheesecake. She doesn't like breakast much, unless it comes with a side of syrup and she prefers the synthetically made Log Cabin to the pure maple syrup.

Ella is nothing if not complex.

This week, an early dismissal from school while Maya was still in preschool gave us two and a half hours for a Momma and Ella date.

We went to lunch at the place of her choosing for lunch: the Weathervane for fish and chips.

Then dessert at Frank's bakery where she was allowed to choose ANYTHING she wanted.

She chose a cinnamon roll for herself and, without prompting, asked if she could get Maya a chocolate donut.

Then to the mall to shop at her favorite store with the allowance money burning a hole in her sequin be-jeweled purse.

Happy birthday to our big little girl. Born November 17, 2004 at 1:15 pm. We are so lucky you chose us.

night on the town

2011-11-16T11:43:00.000-05:00

Last week we took a major risk and took the girls to see the National Acrobats of the People's Republic of China at the Collins Center at the University of Maine. The show started an hour plus after their bedtime and the tickets were pricey for a family of four. We kept our fingers crossed knowing the event could be incredible or regrettable.

Also by some miracle Maya took an hour long nap at 4:30, putting a much needed deposit in the sleep bank.

The were so excited that we all dressed up (Ella said she was like Fancy Nancy making her boring parents fancy) and I had to inform her that we had, in fact, been fancy from time to time before she came along.

In true Maine fashion, the majority of people wore jeans. I have yet to attend a wedding in Maine where there wasn't at least one guest in jeans.

Sandi and I were talking on the way there about where our seats were. I told her we were on the floor instead of the balcony.

"We are going to have to sit on the floor?" Ella asked. "How will we see?"

The girls giggled and tee-heeed the whole way there and Sandi looked at me and said, "This is worth it already."

If I had been four or six I think I would have been yelling, "Do it again!"

The front of the Collins center consists of massive glass panels that are lite from within at night. Every twenty seconds or so the light changes by a degree, shifting from deep purple to lavender to blue through the whole rainbow spectrum. It is stunning and the girls were enthralled.

When Ella saw our red velvet seats I think she realized why we were so excited to bring her to this big deal show. Apart from asking 100 times when the show was going to start and what each and every bit of it would consist of, she was contentedly excited.

The show was entirely captivating, beautiful, creative, artistic and, at times, unbelievable. It was very reminiscent of Cirque du Soleil. The costumes, the props, the acrobats....we saw a woman balance another woman on her head by her head. Seriously. One woman standing with a woman doing a headstand on her head. I didn't even know that was physically possible.

Sandi and I kept exclaiming, "No way!"

The girls were appropriately wowed by the show. No one cried or complained and instead we heard, "this is amazing!" and "thank you!" and "can we go again?" It was like FINALLY we were able to do something with our girls where we didn't have to feel like we had ticking time bombs on our hands. This was how I wanted to feel in Disney last year with them and didn't. I guess it is their age and their broadening horizon outside the narrow scope of themselves.

Yes, Sandi and I high-fived each other on the way home as our tired, happy children slept in the backseat.

overheard

2011-11-15T08:03:00.001-05:00

Maya: "Will you hold my looker?" (magnifying glass)

Maya: "Wait guys I want to microphone with you!" (said to Ella and Olivia, our babysitter, when they were singing into hairbrush microphones)

Maya: "You need a mouse katool!" (said to Sandi when she was searching in the dark for pajama bottoms at bedtime, indicating that Maya has been watching a tad too much Mickey Mouse Clubhouse)

Ella: "Why do I have to work when I come home when I work all day at school. It is not fair." (and this would be the age old question)

Maya: "Is today tomorrow?" (when I told her Sandi was coming home tomorrow)

Maya: "Can you put that up top of it?"

Maya: "Is that squash for someone else?" (this is how I know I make a lot of food that I give away)

And my personal favorite:

Ella: "Will you sign my petition for marriage equality? Skyler and Maya have already signed it."

pastry, perfected

2011-11-12T09:52:00.001-05:00

On Thursday, my friends and I set a pastry precedent.

While Sandi's neurons are firing at an arresting rate studying the pharmocology and physiology on her way to learning how to anesthetize people, I finally learned how to make a decent pie crust through the Hampden Adult Ed program.

I love to cook and bake, but pastry has been my nemesis. I'm not exaggerating when I say that even Pillsbury from a box can't make me look good. Whenever I try from scratch, with multiple recipes from reliable sources, the dough always seems to crumbly, it cracks when I roll it and it falls apart when I try to scallop the edge. If my pies were a cheese they would be Cheez Whiz. If they were a shoe they would be your lawn mowing sneakers. If they were a gift, they would be fruitcake.

Enter in pie making class along with my friends Ange:

and Kim:

Allow me to say that Ange is a more adept pie maker than Kim and I, having to only tweak her skills a bit, so she was there more for the fun. And as it turns out to make sure we didn't fail.

It is my belief that baking should be fun and that there is a reason the kitchen is the central spot in a home. It wouldn't have been possible for us to have more fun making pies on Thursday night.

Patti, our instructor, had the sure hands and know-how of an experienced baker. I say this with the greatest respect. I've asked Sandi's grandmother how she makes such pretty pies and she dictated a recipe to me that was inexact- it clearly required the experience of the baker to judge the consistency and feel of the dough, how to work it enough but not overwork it.

Patti had this magic pastry wisdom. These are her sure hands assessing Kim's dough.

It turned out she had overworked it and had to start over, causing much hysterics over the fact that she had "failed" pie making class. She and I, so much more handicapped than Ange, joked that we were in the remedial pie class. Patti would tell us to put on the top crust and Kim and I would just stand there and wait for her to come over and give explicit instruction. Over and over we would say, "Now this is where it all falls apart when I do it at home."
Kim, putting some muscle in. She brought two rolling pins, intending to improve her odds of success.

There was a lot of cooperative effort between friends (Ange and Kim never having met became fast friends over this transformative experience.) We cut apples for each other's pies, gave words of encouragement or sarcasm wherever appropriate and gave advice the way only the most inexperienced can. This lead Kim to intone, "I make pies with a little help from my friends."

In one particularly confident moment, Kim suggested that we should all be members of the Secret Society of Pie Makers. It was evident the class, and our impending success, was going to our heads.

Ange had this big daddy rolling pin that created envy among all the bakers.

She let me use the big daddy to transfer my dough to my pie plate. Cool trick!

So, this is what I really learned in pie class, aside from the fact that I think all pies should be made alongside friends: it all comes down to the dough you are working with. The recipe Patti had us use was a silky dough that felt like half pastry, half bread dough. It was malleable and forgiving. Perhaps once I get a good feel for working with this dough, I will be successful with other standard dough recipes.

Rest assured, for all of you suffering in pastry mediocrity, I will share.

4 c. flour
1/2 c sugar
1 tsp salt
1 3/4 c shortening (Patti says don't use Crisco- generic works better)
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp. lemon juice
1/2 c. water

Mix flour, sugar and salt together and then add shortening. You will need to use your hands. Once mixed but not overworked, combine egg, lemon juice and water together and then add to dough.

That is it! No frozen butter, no cold water, no refrigerated dough.

For the filling:
sliced apples, enough to mound over the top of the pie plate
1 c sugar
1/4 c flour
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg (I think I would decrease to 1/2 tsp next time)
dots of butter on the top of the apples just before you put the top crust on

Bake at 350 for 45-60 minutes.

Ready to take home to cook.

Fresh out of the oven with a little square taken off for testing doneness. I'm a pie class graduate.

As Kim said, what great homework!

Promptly the next morning, at Sandi's suggestion, I formed the Facebook Group "The Secret Society of Pie Makers" and invited Ange and Kim. Anyone who would like to join, let me know and I will invite you!

Our female predecessors might have been a tad bit unempowered and lacked for rights to property and to vote, but they had it all going on with the communal baking. I mean, how much fun would it be to sit around with other women and make pies? Let's be honest...and then sit around and eat them?

Thanksgiving...watch out, here we come!

well, I guess I'm a bastard then...

2011-11-08T20:05:00.000-05:00

Election day...my mother would be proud to know how much I love it.

Personally, I think democracy kicks ass as so I cast my vote annually and with great alacrity. I take the girls so they can see the voting process and I brag openly about how cool it is to vote. I let them place my ballots in the slot to be sucked into the Great Ballot Machine and be counted and equally weighted with everyone else's.

Voting is the great equalizer. We each only get one vote and it doesn't matter if we are rich or poor, female or male, smart or stupid, fat or thin, democrat or republican, gay or straight, old or young. Our votes count.

(I am not including the George Bush fiasco in my musings here.)

Today, it dawned bright and beautiful for election day. Trish came and watched the girls for me so I could take the first shift at the petition table outside the polls, volunteering for Equality Maine to help get same-sex marriage back on the ballot.

Now, I know that I am starting to get a repuation for being a petition pusher and I have to say, I kind of dig it.

Hampden is a notoriously conservative town with some liberal pockets (of liberal do-gooders even). I was nervous to put myself out there to complete strangers with the possibility of being shot down and taking it too strongly to heart. In the first hour I got 38 signatures. I figured it was about a 30% success rate. Not too bad, but still means a lot of "no" before 9 AM.
It is interesting the responses I got. They ran the gamut.

"No thank you."
"No, oh no."
"I don't sign petions."
"Not today, thanks."
"Of course. I cannot believe you have to stand here and do this."
"Yes! And let's hope it passes this time."
"Coax me." (I LOVED this response. I had a 100% success rate with the coax.)
"I don't believe in that."
"Absolutely."
"I like things the way they are."
"I don't believe in marriage."

Some people ignored me. Some saw the sign and came right up and began to sign before I could even say a word. Some shook their heads with no audible reply.

I had a wife sign and she told me she thought her husband would sign when he came out. "What's this?" he gruffed. "For same-sex marriage. Your daughter would want you to sign that," replied the wife. "I'm not signing that!" came his response.

I had friends, acquantainces and neighbors come up warmly and sign and ones that waved and kept walking.

I went to work from 9-12 and then back to the polls from 12-2. In the three total hours I was there I got 133 signatures.

For certain, the most disturbing part of my day was a man who asked me several questions about the petition and the issue at hand. Then he leaned on my table, looked me in the eye and said about gay people, "I want to shoot those bastards."

This was a moment of glaring maturity for me. I thought about the early heartache of the morning and the rejections and all the love and support I felt from my friends who told me to keep my chin up and the people who willingly, eagerly signed. I could see this man standing before me for who he was- a narrow-minded, fearful individual that has probably fostered hate as a pastime for most of his life. I didn't feel afraid or even angry. I felt pity.

I looked him straight in the eyes, unwavering, and said, "Now you are talking directly to me as a gay person." He turned and walked away and I in no way felt that he had won anything.

We may be dependent on the popular vote to decide our marital status, but that hate and discontent and superiority does not need to penetrate into my depths.

I am proud of the work I did today. I said thank you and smiled to those who rejected me. I earnestly appreciated those that signed and supported. I gave high fives, saw tons of people I know and felt like I conducted myself in exactly the way I want to be treated in this world, with love and kindness and, if not understanding, than acceptance.

And if that makes me a bastard, so be it.

Sweet!

2011-11-07T06:05:00.001-05:00

This Saturday my side of the family met up in Rockport to attend the book launch party for illustrator and Rockport resident Melissa Sweet's new book:

The book is about the true story of Tony Sarg, a brilliant puppeteer who was the genius behind the balloons in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Melissa wrote and illustrated this book and it is a really fun tribute to a tradition most of us think little about.

While we were reading it, Ella kept saying, "This is a REAL parade? We can watch it?" clearly not remember a few years ago us shouting with enthusiasm and pointing wildly to the TV for her "Look a giant Clifford!" or "Hello Kitty!"

One of the wonderful things my mom brings to her grandchildren's lives is books. She instilled a great love of reading in me and is now helping to shape our girls this way. She always buys them a book as a part of any gift (such that Ella now says, "Well, it's got to be a book if Grandma gave it to me" while she is tearing a packaging) and often the books are often signed from their Maine authors and purchased at her local small town bookstore.

Some other Melissa Sweet books we have and love:

(and sorry, no, you can't click to look inside...)

While I'm at it, I cannot pass up an opportunity to pass on the wonderful world of Chris Van Duesen. He is also a Maine author/illustrator who lives right in Camden and writes my favorite children's books. Apparently he is also a really kind, down-to-earth guy and whenever my mom's friend Ann, Chris's neighbor, takes my mom over to sign yet another book for her grandchildren, he happily obliges.

(Do you also love this image of my mom as this hard core book buyer, autograph seeker, trolling the streets of her small coastal town for the betterment of grandchildren's literary future?)

Camden, where my mom lives and where I went to high school and where any creative person would be smart to live:

(I just can't talk about Camden without showing you how stunning it is.)

Here are some of our favorite Chris Van Duesen books. I promise you will not tired of reading this funny, charming books over and over to your eager listeners. Maybe consider for Christmas! (And no, they are not paying me.)

The book launch party was fun because it was all about kids:

Maya did not know what to do with the puppy balloon animal she requested that turned out to be a poodle.

My super adorable nephew:

Michaela got to go up on stage during the balloon show as a volunteer. She thought this guy was REALLY funny.

Somehow Kathryn got selected as well, although she definitely didn't raise her hand.

After lunch at my mom's house, we hit the kids favorite destination: Cedar Works. They make amazing, and fantastically expensive, playsets and have a whole play yard for kids to check out the merchandise.

Can we all just take note of this outfit??

Sometimes the adults have to test the quality as well. This is Brian, my sister's super sweet boyfriend.

Grandma decided to try on Ella's gloves and hat while she was holding them.

Ella is going to be seven in ten short days. She is looking every bit that to me these days.

easing up

2011-11-06T20:16:00.000-05:00

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night to the smoke alarm going off.

Can we establish that this is probably on par with hearing unknown footsteps coming up your steps for most terrifying nighttime noise?

The smoke alarm sounded one shrill, piercing BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! and from the time my neurons fired with the first beep and the time the third one ended, I went from sound asleep to up on my feet with my arms up in combat stance. (What can I say? I've been taking kickboxing.)

I think I have a healthy fear of fire. I have images imprinted on the cells of my hippocampus of families standing in horror while their house burns down from watching the news as a kid. It doesn't help that our garage caught on fire 6 weeks after Sandi first moved in. We were in bed and only found out because our neighbor, an astronomer, was stargazing while enjoying his last cigarette of the evening. He pounded on our door and we came running from our bedroom which was a mere 12 feet or so from the flaming garage.

I have never in my life so heartily cheered smoking.

After the freak show of packing our animals in the car (and being unable to locate 2 terrified cats) and having the fire trucks arrive and the neighbors spilling into the street, fires haunt me a bit.

I even have a mental list of what things I would grab while ferreting our family to safety (the girls, their security blankets, pants-or at the very least a robe-, my phone, the dog, hopefully shoes, car keys and insulin supplies if I could manage to get downstairs. And if I could I would also grab Sandi's laptop because it has all our pictures on it.)

I searched the house for any signs of smoke or fire. I checked on Ella who was sleeping soundly. I came back to my bed where Maya was tucked up into Sandi and said, "How did that not wake you?" in a snotty tone and got no response.
This morning when we woke up I told Sandi the story, my voice dripping with smug judgement that I had risen to save our family while she slumbered. She looked at me like I had three heads.

And a dawning understanding came over me.

I dreamt it.

Not the Navy Seal response time out of bed and onto my feet (in combat stance no less), but the alarm itself. It went off INSIDE MY HEAD. No wonder no one woke up. No wonder it only went off once. No wonder it went off for no reason. Because it didn't.

I have woken up from dreams crying from some tragedy playing out in my subconscious. I've had the music from my alarm clock play in my dream before I actually wake. I've had dreams so visceral I can't shake them for a day.

But never have I had an experience I thought was real and it turns out it was a dream. I'm a tiny bit nervous about what that means for my internal state that I am dreaming of alarms and danger. My subconscious might be stingy with what it allows to be known, but I think I should take this as an indication of all that is brewing under my surface.

In related news of stress and panic, I am awaiting a halter monitor test to study some irregular and troublesome heart beats I'm having. When I was pregnant with Ella I had a benign arrhythmia but this feels different and more concerning. It feels like my heart is pausing and then beating hard, kind of slamming against my chest wall in a way that you are only supposed to feel when you are sprinting out of your house in the event of a fire. (Like how I'm tying it all together?)

My doctor asked me if I was under any added stress or was experiencing anxiety. I wanted to hop off the crumbly paper of the exam table and roll on the floor in hysterics.

One thing is for certain- I need to keep on easing up so I can cease having fire drills in my dreams. I told Sandi that I wanted to skip the Christmas cards this year. The whole no income, paying for non-essentials thing is giving me a stomach ache. I intent to downshift Christmas this year in a big way. We were in the process of discussing it when I tried to open my holiday mailing list and it was corrupt. I couldn't recreate that list if I wanted to. Which I don't. So please know you didn't get shafted when you don't get a card from us. My computer is saving me from myself.

As I was trying to fall back asleep last night with adrenaline screaming through my veins, all I could think was, this isn't good for my heart!

Eeegad, I'm too young for this...

Halloween 2011...twins yet again

2011-11-01T21:50:00.000-04:00

I started this post with the statement that our kids had worn matching Halloween costumes for the past 2 years. As I went trolling through the blog to find some flashback pictures, I had a realization.

Hmmmm......

Last year after being a beached penguin and camping out on our friends' sofa from the sheer exhaustion of carting around all that stuffing, Ella decided she wanted a costume she could run around in.

(I guess she no longer cared if she had a costume that would make her parent's pee their pants.)

So, at the end of last year's trick or treating, she announced: "Next year I am going to be a mermaid."

"Now that's a fast moving costume," Emilie offered.

Ella also informed me that she would not be matching Maya this year. I conceded. She spent September scouring costume catalogs that came in the mail. Much highlighting and dog earing of pages later, she settled on a cowgirl. Expensive and cheaply made though it was, I understood the desire. After all, I had had a similar cowgirl costume once upon a time and I still remember the feeling of sheer joy I had wearing it.

One unrealted-to-Halloween-trip to Old Navy later, and my mother Halloween dream came true one more (and likely final) time.

They were certain! They would match! They loved the costume! Ella could run in it! Maya could be like her big sister! Cowgirl shmowgirl! They would be bees once more!

(I have yet to really delve into the psychological meaning behind the girls second go around with the bee.)

One thing is for certain as I walk down Halloween memory lane...the girls look so much more sophisticated. So much less like babies and little girls and so much more, well, themselves.

(I don't know if bumble bees have freckles but who could resist?)

As we were getting ready to leave, Ella came out of the bathroom sporting hot pink knee high pom pom socks, pulled up high outside her black leggings and her green undershirt and pink necklace were showing on her neck.

"I don't like the way I look. Maya gets to look perfect and I don't," she protested in the tone of angst-riddled thirteen-year-old.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that this was not my first, and would certainly not be my last, fashion emergency with Ella. Best approach: solution oriented. Don't try to push her into the car or the crying will last for 30 minutes minimum.

I quickly found a pair of my black socks and we changed her bottom layer shirt to grey from green so it was less noticeable under the black. Crisis averted.
We headed over to the Harmon's for some trick or treating.

Five silly kids ready to go scout for candy.

And their three moms trying to stay warm.

(I was apparently REALLY happy.)

One house was seriously decked out for the occasion, complete with someone in costume sitting perfectly still on the porch and only moving when the kids were upon him.

We got to the door and realized it was our pediatrician. I think the fact that she gave candy to Maya will go a long way toward building their relationship.

Have you ever seen Super Girl hold hands with a bumble bee? Trust me. Cutie patotie.

After scoring a bunch of candy in the Harmon's neighborhood, we met Sandi back at home and went through our small neighborhood. Eleven years ago when we first moved here, there were no trick or treaters, no kids on the street at all. Now our street is bustling on Halloween night.

The girls went to town on their loot. Ella, specifically, was thrilled to have free reign on the candy. We put them to bed that night, chocolate streaks that had escaped the swipe of a washcloth on their soft cheeks, and I couldn't help but wonder what and who they will exactly be next Halloween. It's kind of neat how a once a year event becomes a benchmark for your childrens' growth and evolution.

That means I should probably plan on Punky Brewster and a clown for next year...

Turning 4

2011-11-01T21:47:00.001-04:00

Maya was born at 10:59 PM on October 29 following a mere 4 hours of heavy labor and a pettily 4 minutes of pushing. She came flying into this world and has been a force to be reckoned with ever since.

As moms and executive schedulers, we took some liberties with Maya's birthday this year. Due to a fiasco with our original party location (how dare people go out of business when you have a party planned?) some scrambling was done and we had to make do with an October 30th spot. Add to this Sandi's crazy study schedule and we decided to just pretend that Sunday was Maya's birthday and we spent the entire day as a family with her party in the afternoon.

Can I just say that that was Sandi's first whole day off since the end of August?

Can I get an allelujah, amen and hail mary for that?

We woke up on Maya's faux birthday to a snowstorm. Go figure.

We had a cozy family morning with presents, a wood fire, suiting up in snow pants, (cake decorating), and snuggles.

Maya was excited for her party and she kept saying, "Is it TODAY?"

What's a girl to do? She waited on the couch, donned in her leotard, for her gymnastics party to happen.

We built a blanket fort.

We made pretzels with her snazzy new cooking stuff.

Really all that was left was to stand on her head.

Finally it was time for her party!

In the depths of my wild imaginings, I fancy myself a baker. Each year marks another milestone in our children's lives and another opportunity to go head to head with a frosting tip and a bag of buttercream.

A few weeks ago Maya and I were driving in the car and she said, "I want a big, pink pig for my birthday. I want to snuggle it in my bed. I'm going to get a big, pink pig for my birthday. Won't that be SO exciting for me?"

This was news to me. I began to consider sources for big, pink pigs.

A couple of days later she informed me: "I'm going to be getting a big, pink pig for my birthday and Auntie Krick is going to give it to me."

I quickly contacted Kris and she said that yes, in fact, Maya had told her that she wanted such an item and that Kris was planning to get it for her.

Just before her birthday, Jackson's mom asked Maya what she wanted for her birthday. "Nothing," she replied. When we walked away she whispered to me, "What I really want is a big, pink pig."

Auntie Krick, of course, came through and it is the most adorable pink there ever was.

We don't know where we got Maya, we aren't always sure what to do with her, but one thing is for certain...we will keep that curly haired, hilarious child and let her tickle our funny bones while we pull our hair out strand by graying strand.

When we put her to bed that night she asked, "Will I still be four tomorrow???"

Halloween preview

2011-10-30T20:09:00.001-04:00

Maya got to wear her Halloween costume to school on Thursday.

I don't want to openly brag about how adorable our daughter is so I won't.

I will show you instead.

Mrs. Babbit was in there somewhere....

She might be allergic to the real thing but she can snuggle right up to Mrs. Wilson.

I couldn't resist this shot from behind. Please don't judge me on the crooked part in her hair. You try parting hair as twisted as cavatappi.

Outside with the pumpkin man, before Mrs. Babbit helped me switch Sandi's camera off the black and white setting.... I may be not have all my ducks in a row but at least I finally know how to ask for help.

soaking up fall

2011-10-26T21:08:00.001-04:00

We have a full time blader in our midst now:

And the normal risk taking activities from our youngest:

Maya does like to blade, but it is hard when running is so much faster.

Everywhere we go, kids are on wheels.

We spent some of our coveted Sunday afternoon family time with Mindy, Charissa and Emerson and had fun playing outside, carving pumpkins and just all being together since we so rarely are these days.

Nothing soothes the spirit like some time in the woods, crunching on leaves and remaining suspended between the glorious extroversion of summer and the quiet introversion of winter. Autumn has got it all going on: sweatshirt weather, azure skies, sunshine that must be coaxed into warmth, birthdays for both our girls, applesauce to make, no more lawn to mow, first wood fires, bike rides that can still be taken and trees boasting their annual brilliance.

Every now and then I get this panicky feeling deep inside me about the girls growing up. Ella is so wise to things that we do and say now. Spelling words as a method of stealth is no longer a secure protocol. I can feel the shine of innocence losing its luster. Maya has big ideas, angry rants and affections that seem to stretch across the world.

Yet...

Both girls crave snuggle time. Ella still wants to hold my hand in hers when we walk, my presence is still requested for lengthy periods at bedtime and she cries often about going back to school because she will miss me. I relish Maya's tiny hand in mine, her soft cheeks, her occasional baby smell when she sleeps. In a few days she will be four and suddenly I no longer feel like I have LITTLE kids. We have bigger kids- ones that can be left in the house so I can walk the dog up the road, can get dressed alone, can buckle their seat belts, skate alone, chew gum, draw pictures, play elaborate imaginary games, have goals and dreams and real disappointments.

It's not that I want to go back. I love where they are exactly right now. I wish to freeze time right here for the, but allow time to pass for Sandi to finish school so she doesn't miss it. It all feels like it is happening so fast. I feel like I am going to wake up in the morning and they will be packing for college and I will want my babies back.

But, alas, perhaps I can just step back and realize that while they are in fact bigger, older, wiser, they are also so much more themselves and I can love them all the more deeply.

These are my girls and man, oh, man do I love them.

blading

2011-10-23T08:17:00.000-04:00

Ella is really into rollar skating.

As in make me proud, remind me of when I used to spend hours on wheels circling the stairs in my basement as a kid wearing my fishnets and singing Madonna kind of way.

And Maya likes it in a hero-worship her sister sort of way.

Last week after Sandi's parents came to watch the girls skate, the girls found themselves decked out in their very own skates and safety gear. Just that week Ella had informed me she wanted roller skates for her birthday next month. Having already bought her birthday gifts, I simply nodded

"So I can I count on it?" she wanted to know.

Sandi bought the skates for the girls as a gift from their grandparents and brought them home as a surprise. Since Ella's were way too big we had to take them back to Target the next day. Standing in front of the selection of skates, Ella's eyes got big and she whispered to me in awe, "Can I get BLADES?"

For those of you who have not yet had your child subscribe to something simply because it is cool, let me tell you this is a strange moment as a parent. Part of me thought it was incredibly adorable that she wanted these skates she attributed to the bigger kids at the roller rink, that she felt up to the challenge of skating on something she had never even stood up in, and part of me wanted to whisk her off to the baby department and size her up for an infant bathtub and new 5 point car seat.

But alas, she is standing on the brink of her seventh birthday and who I am to stand in the way of evolution?

Or better yet, a timid child's request for a challenge?

(please forgive the slight blur to the pictures- they wouldn't let us use a flash and this post could not be done without pictures)

So now Ella is a BLADER. She puts on her BLADES. She goes BLADING. I called them roller blades once and she quickly corrected me. "They are blades, Mom."

How did I become uncool so fast?

When we first brought the blades home and were lacing them up for the very first time, Ella said, "I bet Santa is SO happy right now."

Confused about the nonsequitur, I stupidly asked, "Why?"

"Because Santa watches everything I do and I bet he is SO excited to see me get my blades!"

(At which point I realized that this is how some people think about God and, while this will not send me running to my nearest house of worship, perhaps it is time for some talk about global spirituality to replace the all-seeing eye of Santa in Ella's understanding of a higher power.)

The bottom line is she is over-the-top happy. And the blades have corrected the funny skating form she had adopted of keeping one leg stable on moving the other one in and out in a curve.

Monkey see, monkey do:

The girls have got it all going on, including chomping gum by the gumball machine. They shared quarters and dyed sugar and even perfected the hand on the hip, I'm-too-cool-for-words pose.

The skater girl posse:

Sandi always takes a study break to come watch the girls during their one hour Saturday kid's skate. We stand and drink coffee and wonder how it ever came to be that we go on a date at the local roller rink.

Now that our girls are so super cool, I think Sandi and I should practice wearing out of style jeans, orange lipstick and maybe even go to school drop-off in our bathrobes since it is only a matter of time before our kids start making fun of us.

keeping up

2011-10-19T11:05:00.000-04:00

I just haven't had it in me to blog lately.   I'm too busy trying to maintain my sanity.

I feel like I have all I can do to manage my life and those of the people under four feet in my house. I am working VERY hard to create a new normal for myself. A life where I rush less, breath more and work hard not to scream. I found myself getting stomach aches every afternoon from clenching my insides and breathing only in my upper register.

To accomplish this, I talk to myself a lot. As in out loud. I say things like, "Breathe Suzanne. You don't have rush now. Try to enjoy this." "You don't have to fit it all in at this moment." "You have time."   And even (gasp): "You can be a few minutes late and the world will go on."

I've also become quite selfish. I say no to things that I know will make me frantic for time. I've given up my ultra efficiency in favor of not treating my kids like I am their drill sergeant. I try to show up early for things and let them move at their own pace instead of by my mantra: "WE ARE LATE!"

I exercise a bunch (thank goodness Maya loves the gym daycare) and I sit down every night to read or watch reruns of Grey's Anatomy.   I'm even starting to accept help when it is offered. I've become more realistic about what can be accomplished in a day while still maintaining a state of, if not outright joy, than at least something not as close to misery. I've taken the pressure off myself to run far, be healed enough to race or even know my running future.

In short, I am becoming someone other than myself.

Here are some funny things Maya has been saying lately:

Maya, when she was mad at a limit I set with her, "I'm telling Mommy on you."

Maya, contemplating life in the back seat, "I think I'll eat my parents. No, I guess not."

Maya, eyeing the chili Sandi was eating for lunch, "Do not put that on my psgetti." (spaghetti)

Ella has been saying more poignant things like, "It used to seem like Mommy was gone a lot when she was at work but now that she is gone all the time, that doesn't seem like it was so much."

and: "I can feel that I am getting bigger."

and: "Why don't we go to Church?"  After I explain that we love the community at church but don't believe all the things that churches believe she replied, "Yeah, I don't have any idea what they are talking about there. It's like blah, blah, blah. I just like to go in the playroom."

extraction

2011-10-14T13:18:00.000-04:00

This is no ordinary tower being built over breakfast.

See the dollar bill in there?

Can you guess who it's from?

You know it!

When Sandi's sister Kristi gave birth to her daughter, McKenna, she basically told her body it was time to labor that baby out and pushed perhaps without the full consent of her body to produce her into the world.

Last night Ella extracted her tooth the way Kristi birthed McKenna.

The tooth has been wiggly for a while but last night an audible "crack" was heard during dinner. I would estimate that the tooth went from being 40% wiggly at supper to extracted in under 30 minutes. The girls spoke to Sandi on her way home from Portland and Ella said, "Mommy! I am in the process of losing my tooth RIGHT NOW!"

I love it when Ella works hard at something since she only pulls it out for special occasions. Like tooth extractions. She had blood on her shirt and a toothless smile to prove her grit.

This makes tooth number 3 gone. There is something about the top teeth missing that makes kids look so much like BIG kids. And just in time for school pictures next week.

birthday girls

2011-10-14T08:14:00.001-04:00

For Sandi's birthday this year we got a rare sighting of her.

We did see cause to give her a few gifts as well.

She has been wanting an ipad for about a year and a half now and this year asked for donations to that cause. Sandi has a serious techy side to her. We gave her gift cards to Best Buy and a Starbucks gift card for those sleepy rides to and from Portland. She has enough geek in her (I say this because Ange has informed me that I have no geek in me) to have a graph on her laptop that she fills in by the box to represent her progress toward her ipad goal.

All the power to her. I feel like Best Buy is a place I can only go if I have a cup of coffee to sip on while I wait. I'd rather go to Home Depot to browse if I'm going to be perfectly honest. But Best Buy is Sandi's toy store.

Since Ange and Sandi have birthdays so near each other, we make it an annual thing to celebrate together. There is always good food, happy kids, content adults and plenty of laughter.
And would you take a look at these beautiful girls?

I'm not sure what they were doing, but they were very busy.

Me, in my happy place.

We got this really cool platter at the Common Ground Fair this year. The bowl is attached to the platter and grooved so you can scrape garlic across it, add some olive oil and pepper and voila! Delicious.

I failed to get one good picture of the birthday girls together. Here they are preparing to blow out the candles on their birthday cheesecake while the vultures wait nearby.

Now that summer has turned to fall, darkness descends early and drove us inside despite the beautiful Indian Summer day. After dessert, the kids donned headlamps to explore the depths of the upstairs. They look like unwilling miners about to plunge the nether regions of the Earth's core.

Happy birthday girls...we sure do love and celebrate you!

when life gives you an "all picked out" sign

2011-10-11T20:56:00.000-04:00

My sister and I love each other like chocolate loves peanut butter, but unfortunately our schedules usually don't match up and we don't see each other as much as we'd like.

Or as much as our kids would like.

Kathryn and I often laugh about our compatibility. We both have a bordering-on-obsessive need for exercise, we like the same food, have the same sense of humor, the same standards of cleanliness in our space and find it remarkably simple to find the fun in just about everything.
Kathryn and I could make changing a flat tire fun if we are together.

I think that her daughter Michaela might also be Ella's favorite person.

We made a plan to meet last Friday in Newport to pick apples, so neither of us had to drive all the way to the other's house after school. We got to the orchard to be told, despite all the visible apples on the trees, that they were picked out.

Some locals pointed us up the road to a corn maze and general autumn-in-Maine themed play yard. It was perfect, complete with hand pump duck races (above).

As always, we had a blast.

Kathryn got into the competition as well.

Instead of a sand box, there was a corn box. Maya kept yelling "IT IS CORN!!! NOT SAND!!! CORN!!!!!"

There was even tricycle racing.

How can you beat this kind of fun?

When we went to get back in our cars to say goodbye an extraordinary thing happened. Ella begged to go home with Michaela. This was a major deal because she never wants to sleep away from us and especially without her security blanket. She pleaded with giant eyes that were spilling hope as they met mine.

Kathryn and I worked out a quick deal to exchange her in the morning and off we went- Maya and I northbound and Ella to the south. What a strange feeling.

As expected, Ella struggled at bedtime and called, telling me she wanted to come home. I was prepared to drive the hour and 20 minutes one way to get her if need be, but I was so proud that she settled down with some soothing talk about the invisible string that connected our hearts. I told her we didn't need to be in the same space because the string always kept us connected. I gave it a tug and after a couple of tries she felt it. She tugged on it too and it would have impossible NOT to feel. The whole phone call, our crying little girl on the other end of the line, tugged at my heart string.

There was also some drawing of hearts on hands on both ends of the phone, a tactic we have always used with Ella to remind her of the "kissing hand" and the notion that we are connected because that heart is infused with each other's love.

Kathryn settled her back to bed and told her stories about us when we were little until Ella said, "It's okay Aunt Kathryn, you can go now."

I would have gone to get her but what an opportunity it was for her to find solace and comfort in herself and her aunt.

(Although, I have to say I wasn't thinking that so much the next day when she was an overtired bear.)

The next morning when I picked her up she informed me that she pulled on our heart string many times before she fell asleep just to make sure I was there.

gym rat

2011-10-10T19:20:00.000-04:00

Maya's new favorite thing, beside wearing her goggles aviator style at swimming lessons, is gymnastics.

Sandi pushed hard for gymnastics over dance. In the end, I conceded.

This is a class made for her. She can tumble, jump, run, hang, bounce all the while still having to listen to direction and maintain some form of control.

Maya scurries off for a one hour class, only coming out to get gulping sips from her water bottle and stopping to poop (every class- I'm not sure why). When Ella did gymnastics I had to wrestle Maya around for an hour. Now I sit quietly, drink coffee, clean my purse, read a book, make lists and anything else I want. I don't talk to anyone because I so desperately want the quiet. None of the other moms are taking care of younger siblings and it is so blessedly silent.

I feel like I have arrived at a new stage of parenting.

Maya gives it a big thumbs up too.

trying to keep it light

2011-10-06T12:00:00.000-04:00

Maya said to me the other day, "Grownups are like kids except taller. And they have boobs."

Ella said about Maya, "I don't think she's as funny as everyone else does. I've heard all her jokes."

Yesterday was Skyler's 7th birthday. I wasn't with it enough to take pictures, but we did make a special birthday breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes and the girls made festive party hats out of construction paper. Without incident we managed to get the 2 dozen cupcakes sent from Emilie into the classroom. Maya did not bolt in front of any cars in the parking lot while my hands held a tray of cake. Sam brought me a cupcake after school and Ella told me: "When you eat that you will be in HEAV-en. Emilie makes the BEST cupcakes." Pause. Regret setting in. "Oh, not that your cupcakes aren't also delicious because they are."

Today is Sandi's birthday and, while we will see her later tonight, it is weird and unsettling to not be with her today. We have some birthday plans for the weekend which include a cheesecake so it's all good. But after having her gone for 5 days last week and having to study the majority of the 3 days she was home, we are missing her sorely. Maya has taken to crying for her many times a day (often when I reprimand her) and, frankly, it sucks.

Despite a major hiccup yesterday when I realized I was in fact sick and I was completely and utterly overwhelmed with my life and its inherent responsibilities, I am starting to find a rhythm. One new thing this year is that Ella is finally showing signs that she doesn't require as much sleep, leading to our girls having two different bedtimes. Maya is profoundly exhausted from preschool so putting her to bed early is effortless (in the going to sleep, the getting ready is still exceedingly stressful). This leaves Ella up for a bit longer and, when I can not feel too taxed by the length of the day, I am really enjoying the time alone with her. We work mostly on homework, which she has a fair amount of now and practicing reading. It is fun to watch how quickly she is improving.

It is fair to say that life still feels very disjointed, that while I am happy at least part of every day, I am also overwhelmed and ready to pull my hair out at least once and sometimes a hundred times. Yesterday, I forgot to take our patio umbrella down in the gusting wind and it broke. It felt like the cruelest thing, as though someone had run over our pet.

I'm trying to pace myself and remember that big reactions to ordinary things are probably to be expected. I got the kids summer clothes put away, a couple of closets cleaned, made some yummy food for my family, took some down time, went to work, made time to exercise, finally had the chimney swept and organized all my recipes into binders.

I have to come to accept that when my life feels out of order I don't stand a chance at calm.

I've also managed not to hurt anyone or harm anything. (Except if you count the flies that have obnoxiously infiltrated my house and whom I aggressively kill with a fly swatter.)

The real question is, how on earth will we survive 26 more months of it?

update: a little brown around the edges

2011-09-29T08:14:00.000-04:00

People keep asking us how it is going.

I never know what sort of answer they are looking for so I try to gauge my audience before I launch into too explicit an answer.

"We are managing."
"It is hard but we are adjusting."
"I'm mostly overwhelmed."
Or, if you look like you have the time and a hint of interest:

"Maya wakes me up at 4:54 in the morning insisting she's hungry. I placate her until just before 6 in my bed but she wakes me every five minutes to touch my face and tell me 'I love EVERYBODY.' What I thought were hearty fruit flies appear to be drain flys flies and they are all over my bathroom and sitting in our toothbrushs. Now I need to find time to boil the toothbrushes many times a day. Pour bleach down the drain and splash it all over a favorite shirt. I drive around in circles picking up, dropping off, getting to gymnastics and swim lessons, the farm share and bank, Target and the grocery store. Try to make time to call our new health insurance to find out how to get more than 1 bottle of insulin at a time since I have to pay $25 for each co-pay. Continue to work through the totes of clothes (a part-time job in and of itself) to pack away clothes that no longer fit and aren't for the impending cold. Work to remember which clothes the girls will freak about if I pack them away and keep them out, even though later they will not find their way to the appropriate tote in the eves and will end up in a pile of miscellaneous clothes in my closet. Oh yes, and try to work with the current miscellaneous clothes in my closet. Empty the dishwasher, open the curtains for the day, make lunches and breakfast and then clean it all up again. Move laundry from clean to wet to dry to folded to put away and then begin again. Feed everyone again, then clean up, clothes the curtains, take out the dog, go through the mail. Don't forget to feed the fish or they will die. Work in stints to chop down the now deceased perennial garden and pray the lawn can get through till next spring with that last mowing. Try not to obsess about the back deck and remainder of playset that didn't get painted this summer. Worry if the snow blower will actually start since it had issues last year. Shuffle the kids here and there so I can go to work. Remember to bring the shriveled sunflowers to the kindergarten teacher who wants her students to pluck the seeds out with tweezers. Report to volunteer lunch duty. Walk from room to room being chased by yelling kids and muttering 'I. Need. Some. Space.' Remain overwhelmed about how to get my six-year-old to eat 5 fruits and vegetables a day when she likes only celery, potatoes, nectarines and grapes. Worry about how we will take a summer vacation next year when Sandi won't get a lick of time off. Dread Ella's next big emotional blow up. Obsess that these stints of single parenthood are going to permanently damage my children and pray that it is all worth it."

And then people run screaming from me. Who can blame them?

In short, I feel like we are overgrown like the morning glories on our mailbox choking "Carver" so you can't even see it.

I'm pretty sure these are the sorts of things most moms deal with everyday. It just feels like it is all on my plate right now. This week Sandi is in Portland from 6 am Tuesday until 7 pm on Saturday. Perhaps it is a bad week to gauge how I am coping.

People keep offering to help and I so appreciate it. But honestly I'm not sure how they can. It is nice to make plans and have company but I still have to perform all the mechanical details of our lives each and everyday. And, on top of it all, I just viscerally miss Sandi. We never spend this much time apart.

I am trying to take my life in chunks and by the day, not by the week or the whole span of Sandi's schooling. She sent me a message yesterday saying "26 months to go!" and I wanted to find the nearest tree and climb up into it and not come down.

I can only really say that I feel like I am somewhere between handling this really well and feeling like my heart is breaking. How's that for definitive?

being right in the far left

2011-09-28T08:06:00.001-04:00

In case anyone is fearful that I will not be toting a clipboard in the school parking lot this year, you can rest easy.

Now that I have warmed up with chocolate milk, I have moved on to a more emotionally laden issue: gay marriage. Let me tell you, if you think people get ruffled about chocolate milk (trust me, they do) you should try talking to them about letting the gays get hitched.

As one woman I asked said, "Oh... that's a tough one."

Tough for who?

For those of you who don't live in Maine, here is the scoop. Two years ago our governor signed a bill legalizing gay marriage. Signatures were collected and it was taken to referendum where it was repealed in a heartbreaking loss for all the fair-minded people in our state. It was a collossal embarrasement with the nation watching as we moved in the wrong direction. We considered a move to Vermont or possibly Norway.

Equality Maine has seen to it that the issue be revived. I personally thought it was a bit too soon but they are drumming up support and a lot of it, in fact. In order to get the issue on the ballot as a referendum again, they need 58,000 signatures. They have set their goal at an overkill 80,000 to account for some unverifiable signatures. So far they have about 40,000 and the deadline is in early January to get on the ballot next November.

The same women who told me it was a tough one also said, "Didn't we already vote on that?"

Yes, we did honey. Clearly this is not an important issue to you that you think it is repetative to do it again.

If you ask me the smartest thing they've done is put a stipulation in the referendum protecting "religious freedom" which means a church can refuse to marry whoever they want. This was a major sticking point and had a lot to do with the loss on election day.

I learned my lesson with the chocolate milk thing. I get my heart on the line and I become easily hurt by critcism when something is important to me. For this reason, I have only asked people I'm fairly certain will say yes to sign this petition. I am proud to say I only wanted to cry once (my only rejection by the woman who felt it was hard) and I have obtained over 30 signatures!

Beth, who is doing a kick ass job heading up the Equality Maine office in our area, said she is noticing that when people decline to sign they almost seem a bit ashamed. I can't help but think this is a step in the right direction.

When we took the girls rollarskating the other day (there is free rollarskating for kids her age from 12-1 on Saturdays so they can learn) and I looked out on the not so crowded rink to see a mix of caucasian, asian, indian and african american children out there. This shouldn't be a notable occurance but in our homogenous area it is. I was so proud to see diversity in our community. Having different cultures and ethnic heritages come together always feels like it makes space for the full spectrum of people that exist and creates, not so much tolerance, but maybe even appreciation of the texture that differences among people provides.

There was an article in our local paper the other day about potatoes being a leading cause of obesity and how there is a push to limit them in school lunches. Under the comment section someone wrote:

"Hey in Hampden the do-gooder liberals got rid of the chocolate milk at the elementary school..now the kids drink more sugary juice drinks. Stuck on stupid is a way of life with these people."

My friend Katie sent is to me to inform me I was famous. Then she told me that she would get me a t-shirt (made of organic cotton, of course) that says "liberal do-gooder."

At first I wanted to cry and then I thought, but wait, I so AM a liberal do-gooder. So I told her I would take the shirt in a medium.

Sandi's sister Tricia just got engaged (yay Trish and Brock!). I know Brock asked for her "hand" so to speak from her parents before proposing. I was talking to their dad about this the other day and what his thoughts were. I told him I was feeling him out to see if, when the time came, I should "ask" for the right to marry Sandi. He's had 11 years to think about my worthiness. He laughed hard.

I couldn't help but think this is a joke made somewhat within the realm of possibility now. A year from now will marriage really be on the table for us? This liberal do-gooder is going to fight hard to see that it is.

seeking common ground

2011-09-27T07:58:00.001-04:00

We made our annual trip to the Common Ground Fair in Unity, ME over the weekend. We love this super crunchy, eco-friendly, back-to-the-earth, liberal, pestiside-despising, barefoot-wearing, falafel-loving fair put on by MOFGA (Maine Organic Farmer's and Gardner's Association.) It is sort of like a three day utopia where peace on earth exists for three days between the hours of 9:30-6.

Our kids always get geared up for a fair of any sort and Ella seemed not to notice the absence of refined sugar in any of the food. Phew. One less thing for her to complain about.

Since the start of school Ella has had a slight attitude problem. It is like she went to sleep a six-year-old and woke up a hormone riddled thirteen-year-old. She is angry and bossy and mouthy and I'm kind of at a loss. I'm guessing (hoping) all the massive transition this fall is to blame and I'm trying to be firmly compassionate while she rolls her eyes, harrumphs and screams at me and Maya.

Despite the emotional tyranny going on in our house, we attempted to enjoy our Sunday afternoon. After a 4 1/2 hour morning study session, Sandi was all ours from 11 on and it was such a flippin relief. To have her in the car! To have her company! To have her help with the kids! I went from marooned on a deserted island to the bow of a cruise ship sipping mojitos. Who knew a partner could be so happy with a measly 7 hours?

Our kids are struggling to find common ground right now. They fight a lot (partially due to Ella's emotional storm) and I find myself whispering to myself in the depths of the pantry "Don't scream. Don't scream." There was no lack of irony that we were at the Common Ground Fair. Where, I must confess, no common ground was actually achieved between our girls and we had to leave early as the level of whining and discontent grew within and between them.

But here are some snapshots before it went south.

The best part of the $20 admission? Riding down the hillside on pieces of cardboard.

(Can I just brag for a minute and tell you that Sandi MADE that dress for Ella? She made it over a year ago and it finally fits her. I swear there is no end to that woman's talents.)

There is so much to see at the fair:

including some things you'd never have thought of....

celebrating Mindy

2011-09-20T07:06:00.000-04:00

On Saturday, Charissa through a really fun party for Mindy's 33rd birthday. It had a mexican/hawaiian theme, I guess, since we had delicious food from Margarita's and we wore leis around our necks. I love when the best of cultures collide (although I do think belly dancers maybe for next year).

The lady of the hour:

Mindy, like me, has always been more of the caretaker of the house and their family's everyday needs. But the process of getting pregnant, and now being pregnant with twins, has at times put Mindy out of commission and Charissa has been rising fully and compently to the occassion, sometimes surprising herself in the process. Good job Charissa pulling it all together!

Emerson, decked out in lei, bike helmet and sidewalk chalk. He was going native.

Laurie, who apparently does not like to have things hidden in her food and prefers the you-see-what--you-get approach to eating, was kept in the dark by Charissa about the fact that the chocolate cake I made had zucchini in it. When we told her with one bite to go she said, "I knew it! I knew you would sneak something in there!"

(I think I'm getting a reputation.)

(Laurie's partner, Jen, took most of these pictures with our camera. Thank you Jen. The ones I took were awful. And I particularly like this one you took of Jen.)

Jen and Laurie gave Mindy a bell- yes, a tinkling bell to ring for Charissa's service. I saw Charissa put it up high, allegedely away from the reach of the kids, shortly after Mindy opened it.

She had to pratice ringing it a few times first, though.

Maya helped me place the candles on the cake. I was going for two groups of three for 33 but we groups of 2 and 4. I told Mindy she was either 24 or 42. That's what you get when you let a three-year-old help.

Happy Birthday Mindy! We love you!

Team Beth- walking inspiration

2011-09-19T13:32:00.001-04:00

The girls were in their first road race yesterday!

It was the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Race for the Cure and I cannot think of a better venue for them.

They were swathed in pink.

This past winter, Emilie's mom Beth was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was the epitome of grace and ease and she went through the tests, treatments, surgery and waiting. A few months after it started, the cleanest bill of health you can hope for in the world of cancer came- no lymph node involvement- and she has been cancer free since, having been spared the strain of chemotherapy.

Beth had started running just before she was diagnosed with cancer. While undergoing treatment, she had inquired, "When can I run again?"

This was her first road race and I, believe, the first time she ran on the road instead of a track.

How can this not inspire?

I love this family like my own and it was such an honor to stand as a proud member of Team Beth.

My mom, also a fan of Beth (the two of them have so much in common- politics and a love of opera are but a few) came up for the race. This was her first ever road race too and she planned to walk it and, ideally, help me with the kids.

Fashionista runner:

I offered to take Skyler with me and the girls so Emilie could run with her mom. Since it is a 5K race (3.2 miles) I brought my 2 seater buggy with me for rest breaks. I had a multitude of snacks and Ella and Skyler were wearing Emilie's and my hydration packs. My thought was the kids could run a little, walk a little, ride a little.

I got incredibly lucky and met up with Lindsay and Andrew Harmon and their adorable daughter Leah (pictured below) also of Team Beth and they made the difference between it being a tolerable experience managing three kids on foot in a wall of moving people, to being really fun. Thank you Harmons!

When the race started we were mid to back of the pack on purpose because of the stroller. Hoping the kids could have that race start experience, we had planned to run a bit. I guess if we want to achieve this next year, we are going to have to elbow in with the real contenders. We seriously couldn't run AT ALL. There was a wall of walkers around us and short of weaving in and out and causing ankle injuries to others with my massive buggy and yelling "'scuse us! Runners coming through!" we were destined to walk. (I know, because I tried.)

Finally, nearing mile 2 the girls could stretch their legs on the sidewalk.

And who can resist a finish line picture of four little girls sprinting to the end?

A little post-race refueling. I was so proud of my girls. They did such a great job! No complaining or whining or fighting. They sacrificed for the cause.

My mom, who was concerned her walking legs couldn't keep up if we ran a bit, matched up with another member of Team Beth and left us in her dust. She power walked her way to her first 5K finish with a big thumbs up to show for it.

Over 5000 people attended the Komen Race this year and it has raised over $300,000. They gave pink carnations to the survivors when they finished. While the majority of participants are walkers, the overall male runner finished in 15:35 and the female in 17:36. We finished in a respectable 1 hour and 3 minutes.

If you've never done it, the Komen Race is the coolest event about celebrating women and embracing the fight. Plus I think I just the love the idea of an event centered around the importance of women's breasts.

Favorite quotes of the day:

My mom, pre-race, driving down to the waterfront an hour and 10 minutes prior to the start: "I could have worn those pants that woman has on. I have the same ones with the pink stripe down the side. But I would be too hot in those. Why are people wearing shorts and tanks tops? It is so cold. Are we late? Why are all those people walking? Has it started yet? I didn't know I was supposed to wear pink. No one told me."
(Remind me I can never do a real running race with my mom.)

From Emilie: "Suzanne, don't leave without me finding you after the race. You have my keys."
Me: "Don't I also have your CHILD?"

Ella, post-race: "I want to do that race every year. I'm going to keep this bib forever. It was my first race."

My mom, post-race at 11:30 am: "I'm not hungry at all. Is that normal? Does running make you not hungry?"
Me: "Did you run that race, Mom?"
(I couldn't help it. Clearly the whole race idea had gone to her head.)

MDI Half Marathon: an exercise in restraint

2011-09-19T13:32:00.000-04:00

After much back and forth in the torment of my own mind, I decided I would run the MDI half on Saturday.

Fearful about the state of my leg and the prospect of being unable to finish, I was extraordinarily nervous between waking up and getting to the starting line. In some ways this isn't an unusual feeling for me, being unable to predict how my body will perform on any given run- if I will feel strong or plodding- but the leg was an unknown factor that made me more anxious than the uncertainty of how fast I would run.'

Emilie drove me down and kept me calm. I knew I would likely run alone since I planned to start intentionally slow so I said goodbye to her just before mile 1 and tried to settle in.

The MDI course is as beautiful as promised with three massive hills (2 of which are a mile each) and lots of ups and downs in between. My favorite part? Seeing a little boy holding a carboard sign that said, "GO SUZANNE!" I ran up to him and gave him a high five and told him my name was Suzanne and he beamed.

My goals for this race were, in order: stay calm, keep running (if I walked I knew how it would make my leg feel and I could kiss running goodbye), work just to finish and strive for mediocrity.

Striving for mediocrity is a motto that has treated me well over the years. In college when my perfectionism had driven me to points of stress I could not manage, I adopted this saying to allow myself to get a B instead of an A, to let something give so I would not break. Often I still was able to get the A, or write a kick ass paper, but without feeling like my head was in a pressure cooker.

It was a very interesting experience to be running a race, look down at my watch and say, "Whoa there girl. You are going too fast. Slow it down. Save the leg."

My leg started to bug at about mile 7. Then it grew to discomfort and at the end surely there was pain. I was somewhere in between relieved that I could still run on it and frightened of hurting it worse. On those gorgeous carriage trails of Acadia National Park I decided I love the half marathon distance and wasn't really sure I wanted to do another full marathon.

Emilie, finishing strong and setting a new PR for this course:
(and yes, I stole these 4 pictures right off her blog)

I was so proud to be finishing that somehow I couldn't bother to care that I was the last person in my group to cross the finish line. I couldn't bother to care that I was 12 minutes slower than my best half marathon pace. (I finished in 2:24.) It was like recapturing the joy of completion without the internal push pull of competition. I was proud of myself just for being easier on myself and celebrating a goal even if it wasn't an improvement.

(Then I found out that the top female WALKER finished the race in 1:57 and I thought that was just insulting to us runners who didn't walk once, even up those monstrously long hills. I admit my pride in my humble goal of completion wavered when I heard this news.)

Emilie, Susan and I along with Susan's husband, Liam, who completed his first half marathon.

My leg hurt significantly on Sunday. I'm fairly certain I didn't do any more damage but am soundly reminded that I have an injury.

But I have another problem now.

I know, well 90% of me knows, that I cannot run a full marathon in 4 weeks. I tell people I am not running it. And yet, I cannot bring myself to email the race director and give up my $100 bib.

Is it frugality or quitting that is getting under my skin?

I think part of me is afraid that my body might not be able to withstand distance running in general. I'm afraid I might never get the desire back to run 26 miles and without the desire, I can forget the goal.

To be completely honest, I am both proud and ashamed to admit that I might not be able to live without the over-the-top elation and sense of accomplishment that comes from finishing a grueling long run.

Sandi says to me, "You know, you wanted to run a marathon and you ran two. That could be enough."

But this is where the crazy enters in.

I want it to be enough. Hell, I'm not even sure I want another one. Yet, I like being able to run far. I like that badge of identity I can wave proudly in the air when domesticity threatens to overtake me. I am a marathon runner.

But what if I'm not anymore. Then what will I be?

So you get that this is not really about running but about the deeper seated issues with being a minivan driving stay-at-home mom (who sometimes works)? And likely I need to go back to therapy instead of to vomit it all out on the blog.

For now I am going to enjoy the fact that I can lift weights at the gym and work my legs and not preserve them for any long runs. I am going to ride my new bike in this breathtaking September weather. I am going to continue to work toward barefoot running so I don't keep injuring myself.

I am NOT going to decide my running future in this very moment.

I AM going to try to remember what it was like to steam through the finish chute on Saturday feeling like it was enough and that distance running is only worth it if it is makes me feel good.

stacking the deck

2011-09-16T12:15:00.000-04:00

In that past few months running has gone from life-giving and spirit lifting (as well as bum toning) to injury riddled and disgruntled.

Most of the lost of my running mojo I blame on the very unfortunate ankle turn the night before the Sugarloaf marathon. My right leg has since been plagued with discomfort when I run, moving up from the ankle toward the knee and just above it.

I have rested it, cross-trained with biking and sun bathing and hoped for the best. Sometimes I run without issue but often running now feels like a lot of effort to me. My last attempt at a long run had me walking in pain at mile 7 of 11 and it kind of shot down my confidence in my body. Now when I lace up my shoes I'm never sure what to expect of my body and I feel like I can't rely on it.

My body has become like a ditsy friend who says she's going to be there for you but bails when you need her most.

In addition to the ankle/leg issue, I'm also convinced there is something very off about my gait. I get chaff marks only on one side of my hip and my sneakers wear unevenly. I'm surprised no one has pulled alongside me on the road to tell me I look like I'm about to fall over.

After having read (and LOVED) the book Born to Run by Christopher McDougall, I became convinced that the cushioning of my running shoes were to blame on my poor form and injuries. (It is so comforting to blame something.) Sandi got me a pair of minimalist Nike Frees for my birthday to help me transition to "barefoot" running in the Vibram 5 Fingers. McDougall makes a compelling argument for barefoot running as the way our bodies were made to run and how cushion and extra support undermine the structural integrity of foot leading to weakness and injury.

I have had a major fiasco getting my Vibrams and think, in the end, that I may have bought a counterfeit. There was no invoice with my shoes and they were mailed from China. When I emailed them and told them they were too big and I would like to return them, I was told that would be too difficult and to wear them with socks. Hello...have you seen these shoes??

This all brings me to the point of my post. Tomorrow is the MDI Half Marathon. I've considered not running it but I don't particularly care for that option. I've never been comfortable giving up on something and I've already had to face not running the MDI full next month. It is going to be a GORGEOUS day in Bar Harbor tomorrow. September in Bar Harbor. Running on the carriage roads. And my MOM IS COMING TO BABYSIT. Who would say no to this?

I've rallied my mental game here and I am ready for a race. I'm hoping to run and not have to walk at all , even if that means I go slow. I've taken steps to ensure my success. I've shaved my legs to help with speed. I'm going to wear my cool arm bands my friend Amy gave me so I can feel tough. I'm drinking carrot juice today because it seems like a good idea. I've got a playlist that included "The Club Can't Handle Me" because why not? I might as well feel like a bad ass out there.

I will drive down tomorrow with Emilie, armed with a peanut butter and banana sandwich and a whole lot of hope, happy for a chance to leave the entrenchment of domesticity behind for a few hours.

But right now, I'm going to go bake a cake.

warning: morbitity follows

2011-09-15T14:10:00.000-04:00

Sandi and I have been meaning to update our wills for a while. There were some important things we wanted to change. Last winter into spring it got tabled because of Sandi's biochem course. Then summer exploded and it got pushed back again.

At some point I was overwhelmed with the thought that if we died, our wishes would not be known or carried out so I added "update will" to my list of things to do. Yes, right this red hot minute when my life feels like it is overtaking me.

In gathering the documents for the lawyer and discussing the changes I have become slightly obsessed with the idea of my own death.

There is a section of the will where I can list any personal property I want to give to people (assuming Sandi and I die together which is the only situation that makes me break out in a cold sweat). I am unable to stop thinking about this. Should I give Ange AND Mindy my cookbooks since they both like to cook? But they are both vegetarians and will want the same ones. What if they fight over them? Will Emilie want my jewelry or will Trish? I will give my jewelry to Trish and Emilie can have my running clothes. Or should I save my jewelry for my kids? Will they want it someday?

Oh dear god, my children. If we both die who will care about my jewelry and my ipod and the book I've never finished? What material object could ever be of comfort if their parents are gone?

Driving down the road today, aware of every flash of potential danger that could take me out, I thought how cruel and unfair to have children in a world where parents die.

So clearly I am in need of a little perspective and possibly an intervention.

Perhaps this will all die down (pun intended) when the will is done and signed and returned to the dark safe. Perhaps I can stop worrying about Sandi meeting a fateful end on her weekly commute. Perhaps it is this feeling of being a single parent that has brought this all to the forefront. Perhaps if I sit down and write the letters I am compelled to write to everyone I love and tuck them into my will to be given out in the event of my death I will feel relieved.

Or perhaps I need a glass of wine and a night out and I need to remember that Sandi and I are so rarely together the occurance of our mutual death is highly improbable.

Meanwhile, I am going to work VERY hard not to die.

when bravery dons a helmet and saddles up a horse (okay a pony)

2011-09-14T21:38:00.001-04:00

Ella, our often fearful, apron-clutching child who was afraid the back-to-school barbecue would be fraught with dangerous unknowns, has stepped entirely out of character and requested to take riding lessons.

When your child shows such unprecedented bravery for a new endeavor you start making calls. And asking people if they want to chip in. So certain was she that she even wanted it enough to receive it as her birthday gift from her family members.

She has been counting down the days.

Maya, contemplating a horse:

I'm not at all surprised that Ella has a propensity toward horses. She has such a gentle soul and feels things so deeply. She connects both with horses and dolphins, both of which I would argue are sentient beings.
I was lightly questioned by concerned aunts about the reputation of her teacher and the safety of putting Ella in possible harms way on the top of a horse. Sandi of course went right into "head injury" territory. Luckily, this is not one of those areas that I practice excessive parental anxiety (I do have those areas though- I would say my kid's diet is one).

Well, have no fear aunties. This pony was not much taller than Ella. And her teacher is an older, wiser embodiment of Ella's tender heart. It was like Ella forgot to be nervous with her.

Lisa Kingsbury, of Horsefeathers Farm in Hampden, was exactly the person I would pick to work with Ella. We met her years ago in our massage practice and I've heard amazing things about her over the years. (And can I just say that when my kids are grown and gone like hers I can only pray to have the shapely runners legs she has?)

Maya...well, she wasn't so sure about the whole thing.

She did a lot of waiting around and looking at this horse who sneezed on her a couple of times causing her to say, "Oh, no! Snot!"

Otherwise, she could be heard shouting "I want Ella to come off that thing NOW!" and "I want to get on a horse!!" Meanwhile I was trying to manage the camera, the video camera (all I've done all week is take video of the all the big things Sandi has had to miss) and my iphone so I could shoot a picture to send to San and the rest of our family right away. All that with Maya on my shoulders bellowing at Ella to stop that nonsense in the corral.

It was fun.

Maya thinking over her situation on a bed of lettuce.

I can see Ella as horse girl. I really can.

Her smile said it all.

...and the third one launched

2011-09-13T22:36:00.000-04:00

Maya started at Highland Preschool this morning, the third of my three girls off to school for the fall.

I took her to the open house last week and had to DRAG her out of the place. She was thrilled to be going back and kept saying things like, "I have a backpack and lunch box just like the big kiddos."

Last year Maya was too young for Highland (it has two years of programs followed by kindergarten and Maya still had three years until kindergarten) so we had her a couple of mornings a week at a preschool for 2-3 year olds. It was fine and we loved her teacher, but I can't tell you how thrilled we are to have her at Highland.

It is sort of the difference between eating sliced American cheese and creamy Brie.

Maya has become such a big girl and she is so adventurous. It is fun to do this with a child who is pumped to go instead of digging fingernails into my clothes, begging me to stay.

Maya will be at Highland Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9-2:30 (I pack her a lunch and she stays for the extended day so I can work). Today I had time for a run and do three massages before I went back to get her. This is a much needed part of how our family will function this year so I can still work with Sandi being gone so much.

In each kids cubby is a packet of tissues, imploring the parents not to fret that they will treat our kids like their own. I almost laughed at the notion. I SO didn't need the tissues this time. (Lest anyone forget I cried for a week when Ella started kindergarten so I am not immune to the crying with leaving.)

Maya was just so certain of her happiness and so was I.

Sometimes I am struck by how much of a goody two shoes I can be. Today, I decided to run the four mile loop on the roads around Maya's preschool. In order to not take up a spot in the parking lot from the parents who drop off for the downstairs class 15 minutes after the upstairs class, I decided to park my van on the street. Sure I had noticed they were paving the opposite side of the road. The extent of thought I gave to it was that the paving was muchly needed and a mild nuisance to breath in as I ran by.

As I came to the end of the loop and back near the construction, one of the flaggers said to me, "Is that your car down there?" I told him it was. "You'd better move it before they tow it. It's holding up the paving."

Good grief.

One good thing I learned: the possibility of car towing is an awesome motivator to kick it into the 8 minute/mile range.

When I got home and listened to the voicemail on my cell, the director of Highland had called me asking if she could help me move my car since they needed to pave. Did I need a ride somewhere?

Apparently the pavers had been held up for 15 minutes, idly waiting for the woman who owned the interfering car to return. Someone had told them I left running so, allegedly, they had a truck circling the running loop looking for a female runner.

Allow me to say how grateful I am that I got back before they found me? I mean, how humiliating to have a D.O.T. worker come up alongside you and ask you to please hand over your car keys or get in the car.

In my defense, it wasn't like they had any "no parking this side of street" signs up anywhere.

If only I didn't worry so much about fairness and equality and had just parked in the damn parking lot!

ANYWAY, I was really excited to pick up Maya and hear about her day.

The kids are playing on this beautiful back lawn when we pick them up. It is so idyllic is makes me sigh happily.

Maya came running to me. "You picked me up!' "I love school!" "I got to eat TWO lunches in TWO different rooms!" (One was the communal snack) "I played on THREE playsets!" "I sang songs!" and on and on and on.

Overall, she gave preschool a giant thumbs up!

Then off to swimming lessons. Maya likes to get into character.

Ella was completely panicked when we entered the pool, terrified about a new class and new kids and the possibility that they were going to make her go in the deep end. But alas, miracles do happen and she is currently the only kid in her class so she ended up one on one with the teacher. She was all smiles, solid swimming strokes, and beyond proud that all her summer swimming had made her better.

I brought the kids home for supper and a ridiculously early bedtime (they were overtired and Maya had had a big day) and managed to mow the lawn before I lost the sun. And I did watch the movie "127 Hours" and it is phenomenal. I was nail biting rather than relaxing but I was glad I watched it. If there is something you think you can't do, you should watch this movie. It made me want to sign up for an Ironman. I have never seen grit and determination like that of this man whose arm got pinned to a boulder while hiking in a Utah canyon. James Franco definitely deserved an Oscar nod for his peformance.

Time to head to bed for another super productive day ahead of me tomorrow. I get to call my new insurance company and find out how to work a new system so I can get my pump supplies. Hopefully they won't hang up on me like they did last week.

soccer-less soccer mom

2011-09-13T10:33:00.000-04:00

This is the crazy that is my life today:

Up at 5 to stretch, pay bills, do computer stuff, get bank deposits and a package to mail ready, make lunches. Maya wakes at 5:55. Sandi leaves for three day stretch at 6. Maya talks my ear off while I attempt to extract a CD from the recently removed (because there was a CD stuck in it) van stereo. I pack stuff for the entire day since I will barely be home. Rouse Ella from sleep at 6:45 then walk the dog. Cajole Ella into dressing and eating (after listening to a litany of complaints about our breakfast options- why won't I make waffles on a school morning?) and greet Skyler at 7:25. Do a bunch more packing/organizing and increase my to-do list ten fold while only crossing off 2 things. Leave for school at 8:20.

Post office then bank then Maya to school. Four mile run (and almost have my car towed because they were paving when I returned). Home to shower and grab stuff then off to work to see three clients. Finish just in time to get Maya at school, then Ella and Emerson at their school. Run out to Winterport to the farm, drop off Emerson and get girls to joint swimming lessons (HALLELUJAH!) at 3:30. Back home for supper and early bedtime because the kids will be EXHAUSTED and then resume all the laundry, fridge cleaning and massive to-do list.

This day will end with me hopefully watching the very cheery 127 days wherein a think a man has to chew his arm off. And that will be the relaxing portion of the day...

two down, one to go

2011-09-06T20:10:00.002-04:00

I am on the one-a-week plan.

I'm launching a family member a week off to school.

Last week was Sandi, today was Ella and next week is Maya off to Highland Preschool (Ella's alma mater).

I would say we are all doing better than expected with all the upheaval. Sandi's three day absence last week seemed tolerable and I felt well prepared for her excessive study hours the remaining days. Apparently on the first day of orientation, they told the students that the CRNA program is like drinking from a fire house. Nice image. But I am really impressed with her dedication- waking up at 5 am to begin studying at 5:30 and getting in 8-10 hours of study time some days.

I keep thinking, better her than me.

Today was Ella's big day. First grade!!

Turns out first graders eat the same thing kindergartner's do for breakfast but she was so proud and excited I had to photograph her.

God love the PTO (which I somehow got nominated and accepted a position on without my consent) who throws an annual back to school barbecue. Ella went from being anxious and teary about school starting to counting down the days.

No tears for anyone, no nerves, no feeling of crab pincers in my heart. Just happy giggles and proud smiles as Skyler and Ella (who are miraculously in the same class) marched into their school like they owned the place.

Maya and I had the BEST day alone together with nary a conflict in sight. We have so much fun together and she is such a big help. It was SO flipping nice to have a break from sisterly spats and random acts of sisterly violence. I no longer feel torn in a million directions to help bridge the chasm of my children's differences, preferences and developmental time lines.

My life felt peaceful and restored to a sense of normalcy. I willingly bid adieu to summer and bonjour to fall. I grudgingly acknowledged to myself, school makes me a better parent.

Sam and I waited to pick up our girls and were surprised to see them each a touch melancholy when they exited. Perhaps the day seemed long and the new routine a tad bewildering. But soon there were smiles and stories about their great teacher and the high points of their day.

Ella told me her teacher told her to send a small healthy snack. "So how was the Goldfish and fruit leather?" I asked. "Perfect, Momma," she said with a grin. I love when I get it right.

She also informed me she was the best behaved in her class (?) and that she was the most quiet when they were waiting in line. She also told me she made a new friend, Annabelle, who says she lives in her own adult sized house and intends to throw a party for her class soon. Ella wasn't 100% this was the truth and told me so.

Skyler, contemplating what just happened in there:

Sisterly reunion.

We caught up with Mindy and Emerson at the Fisher Farm. He had his first day of kindergarten as well as his first day of public school having just transitioned from Montessori. His response to how the day went, "It was awesome, fun and easy."

He's running headlong into the whole experience.

Maya and Em just hanging on a hay bale in the early September sunshine.

And speaking of transitions, Farmer Beth just had adorable baby Jane. I just love pictures of moms and their babies. Nothing will change you more than that tiny bundle, that is for certain.

And for anyone who is curious, the chocolate milk is scant in the McGraw cafeteria as promised. Second graders twice a week, first graders once a week and kindergarten not at all. A mom was telling me after that she had seen it first hand at lunch today. Her son said, "WHAT? They got rid of chocolate milk?!?!" and then started bawling. Hard. I wanted to slip into the asphalt.

Then another mom said to me, "Your petition? You mean you got it to pass? I know who I'm going to go to when I want to enact changes around here."

Perfect. Just the reputation I want.

magic tricks for adults with too much on their plates

2011-09-05T07:08:00.001-04:00

Want to know how to turn this...

into this?

Well, you need a whole lot of this:

We had a wood stacking party, or an earn-yourself-pizza-and-beer party, yesterday and wouldn't you know the brawn and determination that showed up. Personally, I think the wood slide had a lot to do with it.

(Maya would only slide her wood down if Matt was there to receive it which meant that she would pause and yell insistently to him while the adults had arm loads of wood scraping our arms to pieces while she held up the line.)

Every year we get 2 cord of wood and it takes a month or more to get it in, arm load by arm load, into the basement. I remember the year that Sandi was pregnant with Maya I did it all by myself. Patti installed the handy slide down to the basement but when you are working alone it is just easier to walk down the stairs rather than drop the wood and then pick it up again at the bottom of the slide.

Can I just tell you how FAST the 3 cord of wood disappeared this year?

Maya and Anna stood in wonderment over it.

Truth be told, though, you do get very dirty. And sweaty too. When I finally made it to the shower and peeled my sports bra off, wood shavings and dirt dropped all over the floor. It is never less than 80 degrees with full humidity when we load wood and yesterday didn't disappoint in that regard.

Just in case anyone is inclined to call the child labor law enforcer, rest assured it wasn't all work for them.

I had hopes we might get it all done in one day but I had no idea we would be so speedy. Mindy and Charissa came right at 10 when we planned to start (god love 'em). Mindy, pregnant with twins (!) made us delicious food while the three of us filled the upstairs wood closet and then started on the basement. By the time the Smiths and Manharts came around 1 we already had 1 cord in and we had stopped for lunch. Two more hours and all those hands and the other 2 cord was done.

Sandi said she and Charissa, working the end of the slide, noticed that my loads got a lot bigger "after the boys showed up." What can I say? I'm inherently competitive, although I am sticking to the story that my back felt more capable the more wood I loaded.

We had music blaring and laughter in the air. We were a perfect example of "many hands make light work." Loading wood was never so much fun.

We were quite proud of ourselves.

We paid the kids in cookies and dollars and they were quite proud too. (And don't you love the way Brady is holding Ella in this picture?)

The adults sat around on the patio for another 2 hours after the tarp was folded and the lawn raked clean of all the wood debris. The kids played so contentedly it almost didn't feel like they were there. As we sat there soaking up the last drop of a summer weekend, I looked around with immense gratitude at my friends and had two thoughts. How is it that people love us enough to spend their Labor Day weekend Sunday helping us load our wood?

And why haven't we asked before?

When everyone went home, and I was scrubbing the girls clean in the tub, Ella asked, "When is our next party?"

Girl after my own heart.

Jamis

2011-09-03T07:15:00.000-04:00

Our trip to Trader Joe's in Portland last week yielded an awesome and surprising result.

I got a road bike!

No, not at Trader Joe's (although they have so much cool stuff there I wouldn't have been at all surprised to see a biking section) but at Eastern Mountain Sports next door.

I have been talking about getting a road bike for a while, since my hybrid mountain bike with road tires and no clips is heavy and wasteful on the bit of athletic output I've got. The born-again road bikers have been trying to convert me for a while and I had just started thinking about giving up my old way of pedaling and moving toward the light. ("You will feel like you're flying on a road bike!" "You will get so much more power with clips!" "Your position will be so much more conducive to speed!")

The problem for me is, while I wouldn't say I am exactly cheap, I would say that I don't feel good dolling out a ton of money on something unless it is a major life improvement. I struggled to buy a bike since I already have a bike. And, truth be told, I only really enjoy buying things when I don't have to pay full price or feel I am getting a deal of some sort. I had been looking around at my friends about my height and asking them if they wanted to sell their road bikes. I figured I could happily spend $500 on a used road bike and be able to live with it.

I was blissed out at Trader Joe's when Sandi moseyed over to Eastern Mountain Sports and found me a 54 cm road bike ON SALE and brand new for $540. Not super fancy but very usable with a carbon fiber fork and WAY lighter than my current bike. They told me to take it for a ride. I, not prepared for bike shopping, was wearing sandals and a skirt. I took a spin around the Trader Joe's parking lot, trying not to flash my underwear, nearly crashing into an elderly lady because everything was so unfamiliar and came back converted.

Eastern Mountain Sports was also having a 20% off sale on all bike accessories which meant that I also got the clip shoes, the clip pedals, a much safer helmet and the bike shorts that had been the intended target of my birthday cash. (I had been told not to buy bike shorts that cost less than $100 and I can attest that this is true. The padding in the $50 pair I got for my birthday last year always moved around as I rode and was distracting and uncomfortable. These high test ones are awesome.)

I also convinced the guy to give me 30% off instead of 20. AND he threw in a free water bottle cage. I was wheeling and dealing with the best of them.

A couple of thoughts on my first ride:

1. I DID feel like I was flying. Like pushing a self-propelled lawn mower instead of a regular one. The bike feels like it has its own forward momentum.

2. The clips ARE scary to get used to. Everyone says that you will be afraid of falling initially. I only fell once so I figure I'm going alright. After 2 rides I still don't have a good feel for how to clip in and I feel like a teenager learning to drive a stick shift. I sweat when I approach a light and take routes to avoid stopping altogether.

My speed has improved but not as dramatically as I thought. On my old bike I averaged 14-14.5 miles an hour. On my new bike I averaged 14.9. I also was on a 5 day clean food cleanse (to purge the summer's "special occasions") so that may have slowed me down. It will be interesting to see as the fear leaves me if I get faster. That bike is SO fast that going down hills I brake because I feel I might spin out of control. The bike and I are not yet ONE. The gears and brakes are very different than my other bike so for now my main goal is to come home in one piece.

When I told her I got a road bike finally, Emilie asked, "What brand?"

Ummmm..... no idea.

Jamis! It's a Jamis bike. That still means nothing to me. I know that it is a speedy devil and I pray it won't kill me.

My first ride Sandi and I rode together. I took her on a route I knew well but later realized she did not. There was a big hill that had a curve at the end followed by Route 1A. I waited for her at the intersection at the bottom. She came screeching around the corner at full speed and then had to swerve and brake fast to avoid going into traffic.

"You could have told me the road ended after that hill," she commented. (I honestly hadn't even given it a thought.) "Just because I have half a million in life insurance doesn't mean you have to try to get it."

new funnies

2011-09-03T06:38:00.000-04:00

Not surprisingly, these are mostly from Maya:

Turning to Ella in the car, with no pretext at all: "I think I love you Ella."

Drinking from my Camelbak water bottle and observing the small rumble of air exchange after she sipped: "Momma, your water bottle snores when I sip it."

Donning a purple tutu outfit from her older cousin and having Ella and I tie the tops of her ballet slippers, she announced, "You two can be my servants."

Randomly while we were driving in the car (and said with her little lisp): "I sthink I sthaw a puty cat." (I realized later they had been watching Looney Tunes.)

These are Maya's sweeping statements of grandeur lately and they are said with such frequency that it is hard to feel they are entirely authentic anymore:

"I love everyone!"
"I love everything!"
"You are the best in the world!"

She is also big on deflecting responsibility. When she spills her milk she says, "It spilled all by itself!" Last night she peed the bed for the second time in three nights and she said, "The pee came out all by itself," which I'm sure is exactly how it seems.

Maya is REALLY into rocks. She has umpteen baggies, pails and piles of rocks and sea detritus all over our house. There are rocks on her headboard, the bathroom sink, in her purses, in her pockets and in her dresser drawers. After a particularly fun seaside adventure with her aunt and grandmother last week, I found a piece of sea glass in her underpants.

Her rock obsession also means I overhear myself saying things like this, "Maya, don't play the ukulele with a rock. You will break the strings." Which leads her to say, "It isn't a ukulele, it's a guitar." (It's a ukulele.) And so I have to say, "Maya, please don't play the guitar with a rock."

And, lastly, one good one from Ella. Driving in town we passed a statue of man (I confess I'm not sure of whom) and Ella asked, "Is that statue the Statue of Liberty's husband?"

when the math doesn't work in your favor

2011-08-30T06:29:00.000-04:00

Sandi and I have been spending our summer playing like we have a terminal illness.

I'm not suggesting that is funny, more that it is accurate.

We planned our entire summer around the inevitable end that Sandi is starting full time graduate school in Nurse Anesthesia in the fall. I think I have had the most fun summer of entire life (despite all the packing) and we seem to have really squeezed every last drop out.

In preparation for school Sandi had to read a book called "Study Without Stress" which is geared to help medical students and the like prepare for the grueling course loads and stay organized from the get go to prevent drop outs.

Let me tell you this book has only caused me stress.

The book works on subtraction to undermine everything meaningful about our lives. First, you have a total of 168 hours in a week (24 x 7). Of that you minus 49 or so for sleep, 35 for hours spent in class, 30-35 more for studying, 21 per week for meals and maybe 7 or so for personal hygiene (luckily it doesn't take Sandi and hour to shower and she has all her meals made for her by me).

I think I may have left out a few subtractions but it leaves you with about 2-3 hours per day and 9 hours on the weekend for everything else. Everything else means exercise, getting you teeth cleaned, mowing your lawn, paying your bills, cleaning your house (luckily I do all those things too) and PARENTING YOUR CHILDREN..

This is our schedule for the next nine months. Sandi is in Portland (2 hours away) Tues, Wed, Thurs for all day classes in her 19 credit/semester program. She will attempt the impossible by studying as much as she can during her non-class hours while she is away from home. During the other days she will get up early and spend the day studying, taking her break after school and for supper and then resume evening studying. All this is an attempt to free up Sundays for a day off.

The three days gone is going to take some getting used to since she will be out of town, but that feels like the easy part. It is taking on every other blessed thing at home so she can study all the time that will be the crunch.

Sandi's mistress (she hates when I call it that):

The Portland UNE campus is small and quaint, mostly devoted to graduate programs, and right in Portland which means she can shop at Trader Joe's before she comes home. I'm all about looking on the bright side.

At the library where I predict she will be spending a lot of her time:

Last week we went to Portland to help get her settled, meet the woman in whose house Sandi will rent a room (we LOVE her), and have a night away. We had a session with our beloved Naomi who does really cool energy work called holographic repatterning and always helps us get ourselves and our family system on the right track.

We stayed at a beautiful hotel, ate the best meal of our lives at The Green Elephant Vegetarian Bistro (another plus: Thursday night take- out), went out for a beer, ran together the next morning and just thoroughly enjoyed time to function without clocks and demands and children.

So here we are. Sandi left this morning at 5:45 to embark on her new adventure with a heavy heart. Last night she said she felt sick to her stomach and thought I want to go back. To work, to normal. I don't want to go to school. This morning she had her pillows in tow and her clothes and her toiletry bag and I tried not to think too much of the fact that we will be sleeping apart so much this year.

She said, "Have a good day." I said, "Good luck today." A kiss and a hug and all the words you want to say but don't need to and can't anyway because they would be too sad just sit unspoken between you.

I love you. I'll miss you. Are we sure this is a good idea? How will we keep it all together?

blogger on a binge

2011-08-29T16:10:00.001-04:00

I am feeling the effects of my anemic posting for the month of August.

I have so much to say!!! I am the blogging world's biggest liability, I think. One of those people that prattle on and think people care.

To prevent such careless self-expression I am going to stick to one topic.

Hurricane Irene.

Okay, so by the time it hit Maine, it was demoted to a Tropical Storm but STILL. The third day of the Folk Festival was cancelled for it (a SERIOUS bummer) and I saw rain falling from the sky like I had never seen it before. It was rain with turbo boosters.

As a child I always experienced a thrilling fear at the idea of major storms and can remember clearly when Hurricane Andrew came through and my parents dug out the D batteries and filled the tub with water for the impending loss of power.

As a parent it is a whole different ball game.

I felt a small thrill in my stomach as the wind picked up and branches came down but mostly I was plagued by these thoughts: what if one of the pine trees falls down on the roof over the girls room? what if the basement floods and our freezer gets fried? what if our brand new fence is blown over? what if a branch falls on the electrical lines and starts a fire?

We are incredibly dependent on power to operate an elaborate sump pump system in our basement. The water from the perimeter of the foundation empties into a basin that is pumped up and out of the basement. Without power the basement would flood in a matter of hours. It isn't finished but we have lots of stuff down there we would prefer not to have swimming in water.

Because we like to live life on the edge, we didn't get the generator Patti gave us a year ago up and going until after dark when the basin was mostly full. Guess what? It didn't work.

Tricia and Brock came over to try to problem solve and as we all stood there donning flashlights on Brock as he reconfigured a spark plug in the whipping wind, I had a sudden realization. All I wanted to do was run inside and throw together something to offer them to eat for their trouble. I was utterly uncomfortable with the handiness of fixing a generator and wondered instead about how I could manage a batch of cookies without an oven. I am more Betty Crocker than MacGyver.

I guess what I'm saying is that when the hurricane comes, only come to my house if you want some baked goods.

As if to follow suit with our string of bad luck with all devices with a pull cord, after multiple failed attempts to start it, the pull cord pulled right off into Sandi's hand.

Luckily Trish burst out laughing and we high- fived and came up with a new plan. We called the Manharts and they were kind enough to lend us their really awesome generator with an intact pull cord.

Once operational, it took the really awesome generator nearly 2 hours to pump out enough of the basin so we could go to bed. (Normally the pump is so fast and powerful it drains the basin in under a minute.) Sandi set her alarm for 3 a.m. and got up to fire up the generator and drain the basin again. We had only 6 inches to spare before the water reached the top of the basin and came flooding onto the basement floor. Thank you Sandi.

I realize that countless people had real and true emergencies in the hurricane, unlike my little faux crisis without power. But I can say that I am grateful to not be slogging in inches of basement water today and so thankful to have people to call on for help. I mean, Trish had a tree fall on her roof and STILL came over to do spark plug manipulation.

If only I had been able to offer cookies...

folk festival - a decade of fun

2011-08-29T09:17:00.000-04:00

This was the tenth year the Folk Festival has been in our town. It is, in my humble opinion, one of the most fun weekends of the year. We always loved it before we had kids and now our kids clamor to get down to the Bangor Waterfront before they miss a second of the action.

I sure do love them for that.

One of their favorite parts, beside the culture, the international music, the sheer magic that our little city can pull off something so big...is, of course, the bus ride from the parking lot to the festival.

Their second favorite part is seeing their friends. I do believe, by some miracle, that the french fries fall somewhere in the forth category rivaled only by getting to stay up so late!

We met the Stonyfield Farms milk man and partook of all of his free samples, at least once. As if we don't know we like Stonyfield. But we had to be certain.

Maya definitely had some dancing to do:

We even took the girls at the start and then took them home for a nap. (Are we hardcore or what?) Both nights they were up until 10:30 PM which might as well be the middle of the night for them. Our beloved baby sitter and friend, Becca, even came down Friday night with us before college snatched her up again on Saturday. My mom always comes up and volunteers and spends the weekend at our house. It is an annual event that we all look forward to.

Our girls were so flippin happy I myself was giddy. (A rare event for sure.)

New favorite picture:

Up way past dark, Ella kept exclaiming "The stars are out!!! The stars are out!!!" Poor kid.