Ode to Dad

Ok, so the title is a little misleading. I'm not writing an ode. I'm definitely not feeling that poetic this morning. But I do want to publicly acknowledge how amazing my dad is.

I'm sorry I missed posting this before your birthday, Dad, but consider this an extension of the celebration.

From you I learned how to laugh at myself and the world around me; how to enjoy literature and popular fiction alike; how to drive a stick-shift and change my tires and oil (skills which still continue to impress my mechanic husband); how to be proud of my own achievements and still happy for those I love; how to enjoy a horrible pun; how to value myself as a woman and as a person. Thank you, Dad, for all you've taught me. I wouldn't be the woman I am without you. Happy Birthday with all my love.

Is it any wonder we wanted Little Man to share a name with this great man? I love you Dad!!!

Loss and Grief

I have been dreading these two days for weeks. Yesterday and today mark the days when, two years ago, I discovered I had lost the baby I thought I was carrying. I knew these days would be difficult. I didn't want them to be difficult. I want to be completely over this. To have the pain and the grief and the emptiness gone. But I know that's never going to happen. They will always be a part of me. I just hope that it won't always be this raw. I'm surprised at how jagged the edges of my grief still are. I don't think of it terribly often through the rest of the year. Every now and then. But not often. But on the anniversary of this loss I can think of little else.

I stood at my bedroom window yesterday watching the rain. And I thought, "This is what it should have been like that day. The rain, the gray, the gloom and cold and wet." But it was beautiful then. Crystal clear blue skies, clean air, white snow. Nearly the perfect winter weather. Perhaps some day I'll find comfort in the fact that it was still beautiful even with that horror going on. But not now. Now the pain is still so strong I wonder that the whole world didn't grieve along with me.

There is a lot about the past few years that is a blur in my memory. I've been so tired and so busy (and sometimes so sick) that is was all I could do to survive. Committing things to memory was far too much effort. But those 2 days two years ago are burned into me. I couldn't forget a moment of them if I tried. I keep reliving the ultrasound. We had gone to the appointment so happy, so calm, so arrogant. Certainly grateful and blessed to be doing it again, but not worried or anxious about anything. I didn't even worry when the little microphone didn't pick up a heartbeat. Those are temperamental on the best of days. Even when I'm nearly to term it can be a struggle to find just the right spot to hear that rhythm. When the portable ultrasound didn't find anything but the amniotic sac, I was a little confused, but not terribly nervous. The midwife seemed confident that there was nothing wrong. The machine is unreliable, she said. I try never to use it, she said. We'll just go check in the ultrasound room with the good equipment. Everything will be fine.

Then, when the ultrasound technician carefully kept her face blank, I knew. I knew even before she looked at the midwife and shook her head.

I don't like to think about the next few hours, and days, and weeks. But today, I can't help it. I'm not ready yet to talk about all that came next. Not even with those closest to me. Perhaps I may never be, and that's a new sensation for me. I do know that I wish there weren't so many women who could understand how I feel. I also know that everyone's story, everyone's pain, is different and unique. Mine is becoming part of who I am. Someday I hope the grief and loss won't burn quite so fierce and deep. Someday I hope to be able to tell the rest of this story. For now, I'll survive and hold on until it passes. It's the best any of us can do some days.

Project of the Week: Piano Recital

My goal was to finish a project this week. In my head, that meant a craft, or a decoration, or a gift. But, it turned out that my project this week was my piano recital.

AND IT'S DONE!!

The kids played their songs, we teachers muddled through ours, and it was a great success. Zippy even played for the very first time! Unfortunately, because my stress was running so high, I forgot the camera. So no pictures of Zippy's first recital. But he did great! He announced his piece in a clear, loud voice. And he even pronounced Good King Wenceslas correctly! YEAH!!!!!

I'm terribly proud of him, and so very glad I don't have to hear that song every day now. I'm calling this a big project well done for the week.

People I Love: AmyO

What can I say about my dear friend AmyO?

First, I have her to thank for the beautiful background and header for my blog.

Second, no one commands attention when standing on an chair quite like her.

But really, there's too much to say and not nearly enough of the right words.

Amy, I love your determination, your spunk, your sense of humor (which is just as twisted as my own), your honest and sincere love of those in your life.

My life would not be as rich or as happy as it is right now without you. I owe you a great deal of my sanity over the past few years. I'm proud to call you friend.

Happy Birthday Amy--sometime soon anyway ;) I love you!

P.S. If anyone else has more pictures of dearest Amy, send them my way. Somehow she always seesm to be behind the camera!

Le Sigh

I'm in love. Totally, completely, shamelessly in love.

www.modcloth.com


Does someone now want to give me lots of money so I can indulge in my new love?

Bad Hair Future

Part of the changes we're making in our lives is to cut back our budget to try to pay off debt.

So, I'm having to decide whether to spend money on hobbies/crafts/gifts/clothes or on getting my hair cut. And since I can make the money go a lot farther on hobbies, etc. and get tons more hours of fun out of that category, the hair cuts are going away for a while.

I'm sure I'll break down every few months and get a trim, but not often. Which means that I need help. When my hair gets long, it also gets hard to manage. I have to have it out of my face and off my neck.

Does anyone know of some ways to do very, very straight hair that will keep it out of my way, be fun and cute, and NOT make me look like I'm trying to be 12 again? Please, anyone? I need all the help I can get.

Changes

Why is it that everything seems to hit all at once? I have about a million things I've been thinking about writing about, but no time to do it. I'm back in crisis mode with too much on my plate. And all of it has to be dealt with NOW!

Huge life changes are on my horizon, and I'm not sure how to face them all at once. Can't I just go back to bed?

How do you remember to take things one step at a time when all the steps are urgent? How do you deal with family crises without closing yourself off to everyone else?

My well is not this deep.

Things I Never Knew

This morning Munchkin was playing on our piano, and shared a discovery I had never thought about much.

Munchkin: Mommy, these notes are the mad notes (as she pounds low on the keyboard)

Me: OK, that makes sense.

Munchkin: And these are the happy notes (here she hits some really high keys)

Me: Of course.

Munchkin: I'm mad Mommy.

And she procedes to spend the next 5 minutes pounding low keys.

I love my daughter.

People I Love

OOOH! Look at Munchkin's cheeks! I could just die I love them so much!

This picture is a couple years old. My kids look nothing like this now. But it's still one of my favorites of them with my sister. They adore Aunt Melissa, and I have to agree. My sister is one of the people I most admire in my life. I wish I had her drive and her ability to see exactly what she wants. I've never seen her let anything get in the way of achieving her goals once she has them set. It's quite impressive to watch. If one way doesn't work, she'll find her own path, thank you very much.

And to see her with my kids (or anyone's kids) is so much fun. Her flair for drama and laughter are just perfect. No one is better at getting a smile out of grumpy-just woke up-hate the world-Munchkin than Aunt Melissa. She understands these things.

Plus, she knows exactly what I mean when I say I'm both terrified and relieved to know I'm destined to become my mother.

Melissa, I love you! I'm so proud of you for making this big move to graduate school!

Just one last thing: Straight up, now tell me is it gonna be you and me forever?

Peas, Potatoes, and Memories

For my birthday this weekend, I had Mom make creamed peas and potatoes. It's a dish I have consistently adored my entire life. I still adore it. But I have to admit that I'm hesitant to make it. The last time I did was more than 6 years ago.

Z-man and I were living in Grandpa Thompson's house. I was pregnant with Zippy and Grandpa was in very poor health. Along with various other ailments, he rarely ate much of anything. A side effect from some of his medications. The day after I made a batch of peas and potatoes (with new potatoes and peas from Grandpa's garden), I came home from work to find Grandpa on the floor of the bathroom. He'd had a heart attack, and had probably been lying there all day.

What a horrible evening that was.

John got home shortly thereafter. We got him up and John helped him get dressed and cleaned up. He was too stubborn to let me take him to the hospital, so we called my parents. While we waited for them, Grandpa ate a great big bowl of creamed peas and potatoes that I warmed up for him. It had been many months since I had seen him eat so much. And his casual comment that they tasted good nearly broke me.

They admitted him to the hospital, and he passed away not even 2 days later. My peas and potatoes, a dish Grandma had made him countless times over the years, was the last thing he at at home.

Maybe I should make them again as a celebration. Maybe I should--but I can't yet. I can eat them with only sweet memories. But making them myself seems somehow beyond me. Even though I know he'd shake his head and think I was being remarkably silly. And he's right. I am being silly, ridiculously silly. Maybe this year when my potatoes come in--maybe when I harvest from my yard just like he loved to do--maybe for the first time in my children's lives I can make them this dish. This food that has such deep roots in my soul of love and family.

Updates

I've been spending a lot of time trying to dig myself out of this house. It is not going quickly.

However, I have made significant progress in one area: my closet. With help from Kimmy and Christy, I managed to do this:

Yes, everyone, that is a clean and clear floor. In fact, that is what Z-man commented on first. Before he noticed I'd moved him out of the closet and into the dresser. LOL

Mmmm. Doesn't that look nice and organized. I'll eventually replace the boxes with bins in colors I like--but boxes are easier on the budget. As in free. I've gone in there just to stand and look and feel good. My closet may very well be my favorite room in the house now. And no, I don't have any before pictures. No one wants to see that--trust me. We cleared out more than would fit in a lawn-and-leaf garbage bag.

My most favorite part, though, isn't the organized clothes. Or the clear floor. Or knowing where everything is and being able to see it all. No, my favorite part is the enthusiasm with which Christy labeled my clothes:

He he he. This makes me giggle all the time. I don't just have socks. I have Socks!! And Layering Shirts!! I just love it. Now if I could just finish the downstairs bathroom. . . .

Do It Myself?!?

Ugh. It's been way too long since I posted on here. And really, I have no good excuse--well, except that I'm still trying to dig my way out of the house after being pregnant for a year and dealing with a baby and a 3-year-old and a 6-year-old at the same time. Anyone who says they get bored being a stay-at-home mom is crazy!!!

But just lately, I've been getting a lot done. I've been purging shelves and closets; donating or selling tons of stuff; and making a GINORMOUS list of projects I want to have done around the house. Then I realized something--I hate waiting. We've been in this house since Zippy was born, and now he's six. That's six years, folks. Six years that I've been waiting to do certain projects until I had time, or help, or could get Z-man to do it for me. Well, I'm done with that! I'm slightly obsessed with getting projects done right now. And I'm tired of looking around my house and thinking about all the things I want to do, but not doing them. So, I'm going to start doing them.

That's right. I'm going to decorate/renovate/finish my house. All by myself if need be. I AM WOMAN HEAR ME DRILL!! He he he. Well, OK, I'll still have to rely on Z-Man to do any electrical work, plumbing, fixing drywall, etc. Cause I'm not THAT crazy. But if I want something painted, I'll paint it. If I want something small built (or even big if I find I'm good at it), I'll build it. If I want something decorated I'll make something or buy something and then actually put it up. Enough with half-done rooms.

It may take me quite a while, but I'm going to do it. I'll try to post results here often--both big projects and little ones. Wish me luck!

Laugh or Cry

Mom often said, "You can laugh or you can cry." As a teenager, I always resented it when she said it. I thought she was telling me I should be able to control my emotions with cool efficiency. Of course I also spent a lot of my time crying.

Now that I'm, well, maybe not grown up, but certainly older, I can hear Mom saying it in my head. "You can laugh or you can cry." I realize now that she never meant I shouldn't ever cry. Sometimes that systemic purge is exactly what's called for. Mom just meant that, if you can back away enough to find humor, situations lose their power to derail you.

Last night I found myself close to tears, and I heard Mom. I decided I needed help, so I call AmyO. Our conversation started like this:

Me: I need you to remind me I'm not a loser even though I'm here at WalMart at 9 at night buying diapers and butter.

Amy: surprised silence. . . .then loud laughter

It was just what I needed. I needed to see that Little Man at home naked (I was out of diapers after all) and probably trying to pee on Z-Man was funny, not tragic. And that me walking through Walmart carrying butter and diapers, wearing no makeup, and sporting unshaved legs was something to giggle over.

So thanks, Mom, for the advice I'm finally trying to take. And thanks, Amy, for helping me laugh.

Passion

I've been thinking about this post for a couple weeks now. I first had thoughts banging around in my head--quite loudly, really--but no time to put them down on paper. And then, when I did put them into words, they didn't sound right. I've been thinking and worrying and just plain procrastinating writing about this because it makes me uncomfortable. Both because I worry it will come off as self-righteous or pompous. And also because I'm not sure I truly do have the right words. But, I'm tired of worrying about it. And, really, I can only take so much thought-banging before I completely lose it. So, I'm going to be brave and write.



I've been told I should use my blog to share my passion. This poses a significant problem for me. Not the idea of being passionate--that's not a problem at all. But the idea of choosing one passion and limit myself to that is beyond me.

I tried listing what I'm passionate about to see if there was something I could focus on, and here's what I came up with:

Z-man--you really don't want to read this every day

my family--even I can't read about my own kids every single day

the happiness of my friends--but these are their stories to tell

reading--but no particular genre and my favorite book is always the one in my hand

music--again the genre always changes

hobbies--never the same one for long

cooking--but only when my kitchen is clean

grammar--and yes, I realize this makes me odd--it's why you love me

Do you see what I'm up against?

I consider myself to be a very passionate person, but rarely are those passions long-lived. I love to start new hobbies and projects. Finishing them, is a different story. I was passionate about Twilight for nearly 2 years. But now I'm much more interested in the friends I've made because of the experience than the books themselves. In fact, I've considered changing the name of my blog to better reflect my current passions. This is more a reflection of my perfectionism than a true need, however. I want everything to be just right all the time. I wanted to change the name to something that would perfectly reflect me and my life. Because that's not too much to ask of a few simple words at the top of a website, is it? LOL

So, as a solution that will both meet my need for things to be accurate and to force myself to make the best of what I have, the blog is staying with the original name. That, and I'm too lazy/busy to figure out how to change the name of a blog and would be much more likely to just start a new one. And I really don't want to have to do that.

For me, Forks is no longer associated with just Twilight, or vampires, or even Edward (sigh). For me, Forks now represents everything good and beautiful and meaningful in my life. Forks is the sense of self that I rediscovered through Twilight and TwilightMOMS and which I still struggle to maintain. Forks is all the people I love, the people who make me laugh, the people who affect the direction my life takes. Forks is my current passion--whatever it is I look forward to. Whatever currently makes it worth surviving the day. Forks, for me, is a place I can simply be who I am. Or where I can pretend to be who I want to be.

So that is what this blog is for me. An excuse to indulge myself; a place to laugh at myself; a reminder that I'm not alone unless I want to be. You're welcome to join me as often as you want. I can't promise regular updates--or interesting ones when I do write. But they will always be passionate.

High Fashion

I try whenever I can to let the kids choose what they're going to wear. I want them to be independent, and I don't want to squash any creativity they might choose to express. However, I realized the other day that both Zippy and Munchkin have ended up with my. . . unique fashion sense. This is what they wanted to look like for the day:

Yes, that's an ER doctor shirt from the dress-up box. And I don't even know what to say about Zippy's hair. That's how he wanted it, and I've let it get WAY too long. I let Zippy keep his hair, but I did make Munchkin change into something that would at least keep her warm when we went outside. So sorry, kids. You'll have to look elsewhere for good fashion advice.

After such an eye-opening realization, I was doubly amused when Rae called that afternoon. The conversation was as follows:

Rae: They asked for names of French fashion designers and I could only name one. Do you remember any more?

Me: Um. . . . . .

And then I just had to start laughing. I mean really, Rae, you've known me 14 years now. Have I ever done (or more importantly, worn) anything that would make you think I would know who French fashion designers are? I love that you think I would.

You guys are just lucky my kids are dressed and that I don't show up in public in my body suits and bright broomstick skirts from the early 90s. Man I rocked that look. Sigh.

Comfort Food

I woke up this morning to a not good, very bad, horrible day. It didn't help that it's been nearly a week since I was able to do anything productive. Little Man has had a fever since Tuesday morning. He's either been nursing, sleeping, or hysterically crying. And the nusing and sleeping didn't last nearly as long as I would like. I haven't even had a chance to buy groceries.

So, this morning when he woke up at 5:30 am, I was grumpy. And tired. And seriously craving some comfort food. But, since it's Sunday, I didn't want to go to the store for anything. But I remembered that I had heard of a dish called potato knish on a show about potatoes the other day. (And don't ask why I watched a full hour program about potatoes--I couldn't explain it now if I tried) When I found a recipe, it sounded even better. Especially since I already had everything I would need to make it.

Fast forward a couple hours to when Little Man finally falls asleep again, and Zippy and Munchkin are watching a movie. I went to the kitchen, worked for a while, and came ended up with these:




Oh Lands. Oh my. Oh Oh Oh OOOOOOOOOOOH. One bite and, glory be, it's like I've died and gone to Forks!

This is the finest comfort food ever!!! I can't wait to tinker with the recipe and figure out what else I can do with these little packets of goodness. But for today, this simple version flavored with cheese and thyme were perfection. Bliss. Nearly good enough that, were I actually eating them in Forks, I might simply float away into the ether. Except these hearty parcels will keep you firmly planted on the ground--nice and heavy and solid.

They're basically bundles of mashed potatoes wrapped up with other bits of goodness inside a sort-of pastry. mmmmmmmmmmmm. I could eat them all day. And paired with home-canned peaches and pears, they make one satisfying comfort lunch. With the added benefit of making me feel all Suzy Homemaker for a few minutes.

Z-Man better hope I don't get hungry again before he gets home--otherwise he'll just have to wait until next time.

You Just Never Know

I'm constantly amazed at what I learn from my kids. Who knew there was so much I didn't know. For example, I, in my ignorance, thought this was a basket. Just a plain, somewhat ugly, plastic basket that should be used to hold toys.

I was, however, very wrong. Zippy has informed me in no uncertain terms that I was mistaken. This is no ordinary basket. This is the Eternal Basket of Happiness. And whoever posesses it is granted, well, happiness--forever. Also, and this was very important, if the posessor of this basket did not wish to share it, all others would be unhappy forever. I have very good evidence of said unhappiness.

Don't worry, though. Mommy has reasserted ownership of this very important basket. And I like to share. Therefore, here's your dose of happy for the day: