My Meadow

I took some pictures of the baby on the lawn yesterday. The lawn is so full of plants that are not grass it probably doesn't deserve the name "lawn" anymore. Meadow might be more appropriate. And we would then use our Meadow Mower to cut it. I like it. I adore the one of him checking out the grass. You have to imagine his chubby fingers going back and forth. Where are the Harry Potter photos when you need them? And, of course, the ubiquitous hostas.

Never Forget!

This morning I had cottage cheese with tomatoes, chives, and shiso from my garden. I love running out and picking fresh food -- you can almost feel the life still coursing through. Alas, it smells like fall out there. In actuality, I adore Autumn -- the crisp air, the brilliant blue of October skies contrasting with the golds and crimsons down below. However, I know that part of it is the need to cherish every temperate moment before... WINTER. I like parts of winter -- cozying up in a blanket, wearing sweaters, ice crystals shimmering from every branch and stem, a blanket of snow. But all the coats, scarves, mittens everywhere everywhere. Not fitting in car seats, slipping on the ice, the fierce bite of wind as you race frantically to your unattached garage. I think I have post-traumatic stress from last winter. I was in a parking lot yesterday and I thought, 'It is SO nice that I am at a completely comfortable body temperature as I walk from the store to my car.' It is September 11th and I have not forgotten.

One of my students had her baby yesterday. She was 26 weeks along and the baby weighed 2 pounds. She had been in labor since Saturday, so I was relieved to hear that the baby had made it this far, but it is still so scary. Hopefully, all will be well.

I just returned from a consignment store for children called "Cute as a Button." I used to love this store, but now I am officially boycotting it. They used to make appointments for taking clothes, then they said bring it any day, then they said call before they open and they will take the first 12 callers, but then people just started lining up before it opened so they just take those people. Lining up before a store opens is distasteful to me. Even trying to be one of the first callers is not my favorite thing, but it is certainly better than scrambling to the store with a boxful of discards, vying for the owners attention, "Pick me! Pick me!" However, my basement needs to be emptied so I decided to swallow my pride and try to get there this morning. I got there right as it was opening and they said I was too late, rewarding only the really obnoxious people who somehow have the time to wait there for an hour! Consequently, I now do not like them. I think it is bad business to humiliate your customer base. I might have to resort to Ebay. I know I shouldn't be so worried about clothes, but it is part of my job, as it were, to try to save money and if I can get a little bit back from their old clothes, it can go toward their new clothes which they will inevitably be needing. (Okay, some they will need and the rest is bonus).

While I was out I swung by the chiropractor and they did not spurn me. I felt much more welcome. My back has been killing since I had the audacity to exercise last week, but after five visits since last Thursday I am now right as rain. I love my chiropractor! Maybe I can find a bumper sticker.

S(n)ide Remarks

My friend said I should be a writer -- oh, but I am! I have my very own column and it is on the INTERNET!

I love to nuzzle my warm, snuggly, roly-poly, baby boy -- There is nothing better! He still curls up his legs and tries to burrow into my neck, and when I lay him down he flips right over ('cause he's gotta practice, of course) and lifts up his little head to take in the world. Nnh, honey, it is like a drug.

A couple of comments I wanted to remember. First, while I was in Relief Society at my mom's ward in Utah I got up to take my bairn out into the hall as he was being quite disruptive. I heard one lady stage whisper to her neighbor (they are getting a little long in the tooth, as it were), "Aren't you glad we're past that stage in our life?" It made me smile because it was so perfect. I was so happy to hear that she is content with where she is in life. I worry about missing my kids being little when I am older. I had that thought while I was in labor with Ella, strangely enough. It was also nice to know that when I looked inward, I know that I am also content with where I am, this phase that will pass quickly enough. I suspect, as well, that she just doesn't remember how lovely it was to get slobbery kisses every morning and have her mirrors covered with fingerprints. God's gift for helping us move on and enjoy the present.

Now, lest I get too sentimental about being a mom, I need to remember the next comment from Ella. I read a book a few months ago that I really enjoyed, "I Capture the Castle." While I read it, I kept thinking that my daughter would really like it. It is set in England and the main character is a teenage girl. I bought the book for her, she read it, and wasn't as keen on it as I had hoped. I recommended the book to my sister-in-law so while in Utah we were all talking about it. Jill said, "I really liked it and the main character reminded me of you, Mary." Ella, "Oh, no wonder I thought she was so annoying." !!!@!!?? I laughed and laughed. So amusing.

"The Baby wakes, the peacefulness flees..."

Boxed In

There are a lot of boxes in my front hallway. We took some boxes to UPS the other day and Tom (the UPS guy) said, "I saw that you got 40 boxes of padded envelopes delivered to your house this morning." "You know where I live?" I replied flabbergastedly. "Yes," he said, "At this computer, I've got my fingers on the pulse of this town." He probably knows about my penchant for buying $.75 books on half.com. I guess it isn't too bad since I know his name and quite a bit about him. I also know most of the workers at the post office, but I don't think they know where I live.

Ibby is doing better. She started to cry on Tuesday morning, but recovered before getting to the school. Wednesday we talked a lot about her happy face and as she got out of the car she said, "Won't my teacher be glad to see my happy face this morning?" Yes, I am sure that she will.

During a Sunday lesson, someone read this quote by Anna Quindlen that I have read before:
There’s one picture of my three children sitting on the grass on a quilt in the shadow of a swing, set on a summer day ages 6, 4 and 1, and I wish I could remember what we ate and what we talked about and how they sounded and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing; dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more, and the getting it done a little less.

Fine. It is totally sweet and it even brought out some tears. However, the more I thought about it the more dismayed I became. It is hard enough for me to get dinner on the table and everyone in bed at a reasonable hour without someone trying to make me feel bad about it! You still have to get it all done! Okay, that is just a rant because I feel the bittersweet-ness of motherhood intensely lately. I miss my kids while they are at school, but then don't enjoy the post-school transition time very much. I don't remember so much of their baby time. The baby I do have changes every day and I know that he will be leaving for a mission soon. Cry, cry, cry.

Bon Anniversaire.

A Stomach Complaint

I was just switching a load of laundry which consisted mostly of towels. "Oh," thought I, "I should throw in a fabric softening sheet. Or, I shouldn't, because I read that blog that said that dryer sheets are terrible and contain ingredients that become carcinogenic when heated. But, I really don't know what the ingredients are, or what they do, and I really like soft towels..." So transpires the life of a half-wit, torn between two things of which she knows nothing, tid-bits of knowledge ricocheting through the gray matter, authority on nothing, alarmed by plenty.

The phantom illness struck again. It is an odd thing to be sure. Three weeks ago, Lucy felt sick after sacrament meeting. She laid on me during Sunday School and then I took her home early. Later that evening she literally got sick, to put it politely. I waited apprehensively to see if anyone else would catch her germs, but by Wednesday felt like we had dodged that bullet. Sunday again, Ibby played happily all morning, ate breakfast and lunch, then said she felt sick right as we were leaving. Ella was giving a talk in church so I tried to gauge how sick she felt and decided that we would go listen to the talk and then take stock. Didn't make it to church. Dropped off the kids, worried how they would sit alone (Daddy is always on the stand), came home to bathe girl and clean out car. How strange that they both got sick a week apart with eerily similar symptoms... Saturday evening. We have managed to bring home and assemble the heaviest treadmill that was ever created. The box was too heavy for us to lift so we pushed it end over end across the back walkway, down the stairs, and through the basement where we proceeded to assemble it with much too much ado. Matthew says, "I don't feel very well." The beginning of a very sick evening and night for him. Sunday night I feel sick, but since I like to hold on to things, it lasts a couple of days. Well, that was curious that we were sick three weeks in a row. Another Sunday, we all make it to church. Ella isn't hungry for dinner, gets worse as the evening progresses, and then is sick for most of Monday so no end of summer swimming for her. Amazing. Four weeks in a row, the exact same malady, but not really close enough together. So Charles is the last man standing. It must be bizarre to know that you are going to have the stomach flu in a few days and not be able to do anything about it.

I wished that I had been sick a week later because I have paid my money to join the "Biggest Loser" contest that Jenn, my niece-in-law, is doing. I wanted to weigh as much as possible for my first weigh in so, since I didn't eat at all the first couple of days of last week, I had to make up for it later. I know, it is stupid! But that is just the way I am. We went out for lunch and dinner on our anniversary and then all weekend I was trying to come up with the most fattening things I won't be able to eat for the next 12 weeks. I finally weighed in yesterday evening after our ward Labor Day picnic. I think -- I hope! -- I ate enough. I had to send in before photos!!! I always thought "they" made people frown for their before photos because you just look worse when you are not smiling. I realized yesterday that "they" do not have to make you do anything! I was almost crying it was such an awful experience and I almost don't want to win so that no one will ever see those pictures. Except, I do want to win. The pot is at $1500! Plus, I don't feel like myself at this weight. Plus, I don't want to buy any more clothes this size. Plus, I already feel better because I exercised this morning. Plus, I bought a 500,000 pound treadmill. Matthew wants me to win, too. He made me an excel sheet with how much I need to lose each week to be a serious contender (based on the percentage of weight lost by the previous winner, taking into account that this one can only be more competitive). He is sweet and knows how upset I was by the before pictures. He had to take them and I was snapping at him peevishly the whole time.

Separation Anxiety

Ibby does not like to go to school at all.
Friday: clinging to me at the bus stop, but still hadn't ridden the bus, so wiped away tears and got on with Lucy's arm around her; bus driver giving me a look of panic; I cry on the way home.
Monday: crying on the way to the bus stop, refuses to get on bus; Matthew drives them to school and leaves her whimpering with the teacher, after making another boy cry as he realizes that he is sad as well .
Tuesday: Matthew drives them to school and takes baby (because I was SO sick, but that is another story) so uses that as an excuse to not walk in with her.
Wednesday: Lucy forgets she has homework so no bus again; I drive them to school and make her get out of the car and walk in; she is crying, I get dirty looks from teachers; Lucy says later that Ibby cried in the hallway for a long time.
Thursday: she starts with the not wanting to go about an hour before the bus comes; clinging to me in my bedroom; Matthew takes her hand and I hear her wailing all the way to the car; they pray on the way and try to talk about happy things while she moans; she refuses to get out of the car; Matthew walks her in; she is left screaming at the top of her lungs with the teacher.
Okay, okay, we get it! You don't want to go to school! But then, she comes home as happy as a lark, barely can say hello to me, shows me all the things she did at school, tells me about her friends and her art class. So it is heart wrenching, but she seems to be fine, so I don't know what to think every morning. I asked my friend google and it told me, "Remember: Separation anxiety means that a strong and loving bond exists between you and your child." Hmmm, then why didn't any of my other children ever go through this?!?? We must not be bonded. Something else to fret about.

Oh, and Happy Anniversary to me and my far superior other half! And Happy five month birthday to Phin -- so big!

I am not an addict

Not to be negative, but... I hate the first day of school! I always cry, but I have to hide it and be all happy so the kids don't hate school. I took pictures of the little girls and we all put on our best face for the occasion. Ibby has not been wanting to go to school at all. My other kids were all ready and excited to start kindergarten so this has been a new experience for me. She knows there are other options out there so whenever anyone has asked her if she is excited to start school, she keeps saying, "I haven't decided if I am going yet." So I have really had to talk it up (whilst biting the proverbial fingernails -- 'Should I be pushing her away when she seems to need me more than ever? Will it really be what she needs to get away from the house, make new friends, learn new things?') and shush Charles who is over in the corner muttering things like, "If you do that at school, they'll put you in detention." Thank you, oh, so helpful! But she went this morning with me and we checked out her room, locker, desk, etc. She was totally fine while we were there, but then has been making wishy washy remarks since our return. It was hard for me with the other kids as well. Ella started High School, crazy! Charles was thrown back to the wolves, but fortunately there are always a lot of police officers on hand -- so reassuring for when one is hit over the head with a food tray. Lulu is in 3rd grade which seems like the beginning of not being little. It is all so terrifically sad!!!

Yesterday I was stressed out. It all started with a dead mouse greeting me at the bottom of my stairs. Thank you so very much, Mittens. I screamed so loudly, but when I asked Matthew later if he had heard me, he said he thought I was just yelling at the kids again. Gotta live up to my reputation. Charles was so incredibly sweet and took the dead animal outside without anyone asking. I was trying to get the house clean because I started a new Bradley series last night and I also was worried because I was starting my new job as a bus. I didn't campaign for this position, but my neighbor asked me if I could pick her son up from preschool and take him to daycare. Sure, as a favor (according to working moms, why not? I am just sitting at home doing nothing after all) I would do it for her. Well, three other moms have the same problem and suddenly I am a bus. They wanted me to do it every day, but I just couldn't commit so I am doing it twice a week and charging more than I probably should. I have to get a baby in and out of a carseat several times! Okay, so I was worried about those things and then I also have the 6,000 orders hanging over my head. So, all afternoon as I yawned and worried I told myself that I could get a Dr. Pepper before my class. It would perk me up, I had a headache (pulling out the medicinal excuse), and I thought it would make me feel better. I wish I didn't like soda, but I do. I keep it to a minimum -- I am not addicted -- but I really, really wanted one yesterday. Not everyone has Dr. Pepper so I had to go to a special place. There was an accident on the way and I got stuck in traffic, then there was nowhere to park. Finally, I got inside and filled up my cup. As I was making my way to the counter, I turned too quickly and gored my cup with a shelf. The whole thing burst and flooded everywhere! I was soaking wet and very embarrassed, but the lady who worked there was very nice and started to clean it up. I went back to get another cup. I put in the ice, filled it up just so, got a lid, put in the straw, stood in line, paid the money, got back in my car, took one sip, and then a block down the road, my straw poked a hole in the bottom of the cup and it started spewing all over me, all over the car, I was screaming, people were staring. I just drove home, grumpy and dejected, no caffeine for me. Was it a sign?

We are getting new gutters on our house today so the background of my day is bad music on a subpar radio, men yelling at one another, and the aroma of cigarettes wafting in through the windows. Heaven.