So it's 4am now and I still can't sleep. I've eaten a plate of wheat thins with neufenchel herbed cheese (yummy) and can't even get into fat nap attack mode (my husband's term) I'm quite sure I ate enough of them too. I did have a nice chat with my friend Teri. I seldom get to talk to her during the day because well, she actually writes, and I hate to interrupt her, and I know she has to be tired with all the radiation treatments. Good news is her hair isn't falling out yet and she says call her any time. She's got lazier and nicer with the onset of her tumor - I have to watch her though because she likes to tumor-trump me when we are whining about our days. "My life sucks. The basement is flooded, the freezer is shot, we had to replace the a/c and furnace, I have too many animals, my kids are being a pain, my husband is being a pain..." Teri says, "I have a brain tumor." and well, all rounds go to her.

On Momwriters this week, everyone is telling the tale of their journey to and with Momwriters. It's been a lot of fun reading them and it's brought me a lot to think about. I'm not exactly sure when I joined but I think it was late 1998 - at least I can remember discussions from that far back. I didn't post for quite a while after joining because it was my first ever attempt at an email list and I was having trouble mastering the reading of so much email, much less figuring out how to get involved in it (I'm a little bit computer stupid). By now though it seems as if I've been there forever. Without hesitation, my family now plans our vacation every summer around momwriter get togethers and we look forward to it very much. My husband and children each have their own personal favorites in the group of mw's and their families that we've met, and at this point, the number is getting on up there. Come late July we will once again load up and drive 800 miles to visit people I've met and some we've never met and the list will grow again.

The people I consider my best friends in the world are Momwriters. After high school my friends and I all got jobs and life moved on. It didn't seem to stop moving to allow time to keep in touch. I have one friend I still think about often though I haven't even spoke to her since my son (who is now 6) was still days old. Life happens, things change, people move on, I guess. Funny, I had always kind of thought we'd be together forever. We had been friends since we were 4 years old and though I've lived in the same place for over 10 years now, I've had no contact from her. I've tried to track her down a few times but none of her family still live where they used to. C'est La Vie. For many years I was stuck at home with 3 children under the age of 4 - well only a short time with them under the age of 4 but with an age spread so small and two that needed to be carried while one still needed her hand held, well, it made it hard to go places. My husband worked near 100 hours a week religiously and I was always home alone with the kids. Never alone and always lonely.

I had always wanted to write. It was the dream that never left me that I didn't tell anyone, except my husband. Writing was the kind of thing that if I shared it with people, they would laugh at me...that's why I quit sharing. You can only watch someone's eyes glaze over with that blank 'what the hell?' look welling up in them so many times before you learn to keep your mouth shut. My husband though, he had a way of making me want to share my real self with him. For years he told me I should write that children's book. He would bring it up from out of the blue. He had confidence in me, and he never laughed.

Well, one day I was piddling around on the computer, chatting it up in a moms online chat room for writers when a woman I was talking to told me about momwriters. I can't remember who it was, and I sure wish I did so that I could thank her. I think maybe her screenname was writermama with a number at the end (or something like that) I have no idea really though. Years later I'm still there, and though I went no mail for 9 months, there have been people I just can't do without. Teri has been a huge comfort to me - a spiritual companion and a great source of comfort for me when I was searching. She is funny, supportive and friendly. Linda is another handy type and we have great fun discussing our latest projects together. Recently when I started to remodel our old kitchen and discovered that the original owners didn't actually build a wall but attached it lightly to the back of the cabinets I had just ripped out, she helped calm my fears of presenting my husband with a pair of french doors we could walk through, or around (I managed to save the wall and reframe it, btw). Barb is like a part ofme. For some reason we just click together. She's younger than me by more years than I even want to admit, but there's no complaining about Barb. She rescues kids like I do animals. She keeps me in awe of her devotion and her determination. She's strong and knows exactly what her purpose is and she intends to be what she was meant to be. Barb touches my heart every time I talk to her. She's really something special. Then there is Koni...a world apart from someone like me, but we manage to burn up the phone lines when I can catch her at home. I doubt two more different people could be found but we're a good match and we have a great time. Shelley (in SWO) she's interesting. A politician in the making - a writer extraordinaire, for some reason she maintains a confidence in me that I've never been able to gather. If I ever manage to believe in me just half as much as she does I may actually write something. I hope I've done a good enough job of letting her know how much she gives me.

I've got so much more from momwriters than I went in expecting to gain. I'm not a writer yet, maybe, but I'm in the world's best place to start. Where else could I spend over 4 years just working up the nerve to do what I want to do? Ok, so I'm a chicken. I still half expect people to laugh or give me that look I remember so well from many moons ago when I first mentioned wanting to write. I readily admit to that. Maybe one day that will pass. I haven't given up on wanting to, they haven't let me give up on wanting to, and they won't. My day is coming...

I can't sleep. Each time I begin to doze I am sucked into a dream of looking for my son. My heart pounds and I feel the panic of not knowing where he is or if I'll ever see him alive again. I'm gripped by fear at the memory of men coming down the drive carrying long poles over their shoulder headed for the pond to prod the depths in search of him. Though time on that day passed with a unrealistic haze surrounding it, as if I stood somewhere outside my body only half hearing the voices that rang in my ear like a half echo as I was asked questions, asked to provide identifying information...clues to where he might go, why he might have wandered so quickly; in my dreams the moments return with stark clarity to grip my heart and hold it so tight I can't breathe. I struggle to bring myself to the surface of sleep - like drowning almost - I fight with all my might to break the surface of the water...so close I can see the sun glinting just inches away, but yet I can't make it to the place where there is air. I'm crushed by panic. I lie in bed afterwards paralyzed by the fear and weak with the helplessness of it all. I'm lucky enough to live in a place where it wasn't the tragedy of it's original design...unlucky enough to be scarred by the very real and devastating possibility of what could have happened. I think I will never see the day when the pain of it will not be sharp and clear like the wide blade of a knife digging deep into my heart. I have as little chance to recover from the trauma of it as it happened, as I would have been had they actually brought him lifeless from the pond.

I hate nights like this. Every time it happens, and it happens way more than I like for it too, I have to get up and go to him. I sit and watch him sleep for a while. Watch his chest rise and fall with the proof of life not taken from me - from us. I lean close enough to him to feel his breath warm on my face, lay my hand across his back to find the reassuring heat of life. In my mind I half heartedly scold him for sneaking off - me for thinking it was safe to leave him long enough for me to go pee. I sit watch over him, like the extra amount of protection I give at this moment can redeem my failure of that day. I let the floods of guilt and relief wash over me as I promise for the millionth time never to fail any of my kids that way again.

It does nothing to help me sleep.

Through the daze of sleep too long in coming and not long enough enjoyed, came the sound of an owl. I would have guessed owls don't exist here anymore - it's been that long since I've heard one. The solemn voice calls to me through the veil of unconsiousness and captures a recent memory. In the still shadowed light of daybreak I conjure the images of the vision I had recently. The large eyes of the owl shining through a pitch black sky above a dancing lady. Could he be talking to me? I fight against the pull of the freshly laundered sheets and drag my mind toward wakefulness. Nothing stirs. There are no sounds of cats playing, stretching or scratching, no breeze blowing, no traffic sounds from the nearby highway...nothing but the lone voice of the owl. I find great comfort in knowing we do, in fact, still have owls around here, and wonder briefly where he may be nesting. I feel relieved; and oddly revived. I find dragging myself out of bed after such little sleep not quite as daunting as I first thought it would be. In the dark of the kitchen downstairs I switch the coffee pot to "on" and stand for a moment to listen. The birds have started their morning chatter and I hear one last whoo-hoooot calling faintly from somehwere in the shadows of dawn.

MOTHER'S DAY PART 1

Last night after dinner I had to make a run to Lowes to look at light fixtures. Our wiring should be finished today and I had to have at least some idea what we wanted to put up. I also had a couple of things I needed to get - which, of course, I forgot in the midst of trying to choose lights for 3 different rooms. I ended up settling on one light only and I managed to find a new track to replace the broken one on the landing. The decidion on the lighting for the kitchen is not going to come so easy though. It's a long room...24 feet, and I need drop fixtures because of the sloped ceiling. Needing two fixtures completely knocked me out of the chance to have the one I really, really wanted because we can't afford $600.00 in lights for the kitchen. Oh well...

Emily made the run to Lowes with me while Jacob stayed home with his dad. Right outside the store a couple was loading the bed of their truck with their purchases and Emily noticed an adorable little dog sitting in the truck's cab. Of course she had to go pet him when the lady told her she could, so she climbs up into the driver's seat while I talked to the couple. They were very nice and I was having a great time chatting away when the man said "What's your name? You look familiar." So I told him and we found out we had gone to school together. They live not far from where I live now and knew exactly where our house is when I described the location. Small world.

We stood there outside the door to Lowes as the employees staggered out the doors ready to go home, and obviously glad to be finished with work for the day. For half an hour we stood there talking and laughing as if we talked every day. Turns out they have a house full of rescue animals too and have 6 dogs of their own. Huckleberry travels with them everywhere they go because he loves them and misses them, so he will climb their 7 foot fence if he's left at home. It's hard to imagine not taking that little dog everywhere though, he was the most well mannered, well behaved dog I've ever seen. I could have certainly brought him home with us and made room for him in our own bed - what a sweet thing he is! The people were really great to talk to also. We had a lot of fun standing out there talking.

Emily and I finally loaded our things into the car and headed home. It was 11:00 when we pulled up in front of our house. Through the livingroom window I saw little Jacob standing in front of the window waiting and felt a pang of guilt. We were an hour later coming home than expected...how long had he stood there, I wondered. When we walked through the front door, Jacob threw a handfull of rose petals at me and yelled "HAHAHA I got you!" and ran screaming from the room to tell his dad how he had surprised me. I sat the boxes down on the couch in our room and was quickly banished to the livingroom because they had a surprise waiting for me. Another pang of guilt for being an hour late...

I was allowed to pour a glass of coke and made to wait...

A short while later I was called for and they led me, eyes closed, into our bedroom. Jake was apparently hidden in the bathroom where earlier I had heard water running. My husband gave his instructions to wait and when everyone was in position, I was led into the bathroom - or heaven, whichever you want to call it. The birdcage candle that hangs from the ceiling above the tub was lit and fresh honeysuckle vine cascaded from the shower head and almost into the tub. It filled the room with it's lovely fragrance. Around the room more lit candles glowed in the semi-darkness and fresh picked twigs of rosemary floated in the tub. What luxury! Yet another pang of guilt for being an hour late...

I thanked them all profusely for the bath, squealed with delight over the smell of the honeysuckle once again as I settled into the tub and leaned back to relax and enjoy this very special gift. My husband asked if I was comfortable and I could do little more than mumble. Within seconds, they all appeared in the bathroom again because they had one more surprise for me. Each one came by the bath and sprinkled freshly gathered rose petals into the water! I was in heaven! I oooh'd and ahhh'd like a smurf over the greatness of it all and felt yet another pang of guilt over being an hour late as my husband described trying to time that just right for me. They had held that bath for 45 minutes. Even Emily had been part of the plan - she was my distraction, and had my cell phone battery not been dead, she was also to be their early warning system. I was so proud that they had gone through all that trouble for me. The bath was pure bliss. What a special gift.

We settled in for bed shortly after midnight. Everyone was exhausted and went out just as quick as the lights had been turned off. I was dreaming of music playing when I woke up at 3:30 and realized the music was our doorbell, and my dog was barking frantically in the livingroom, bouncing off the door (all three pounds of her bodyweight put to the best use she could find for it). I stumbled through the house in my gown - I couldn't find my robe. I opened the door a crack and heard a man say "It's the police ma'am." I gathered ferocious Luna from the floor and opened the door wider. A young policeman was standing on the porch apologizing for waking me then asked "Is the white van parked on the street yours?" I said yes and followed his flashlight as he turned to shine it on the van - the driver's side door wide open.

Inside the police car an obviously large dog barked menacingly. Not an out of control bark, but the kind that lets you know it's there and you better not try anything funny because it sounds as if it just might have a way out of the car. We laughed at my little dog acting as if she could go out there and give him a run for his money, and I tossed her back in bed with the kids and went out to inspect the car. It had obviously been gone through but nothing appeared to be missing. In my sleepy haze I failed to check for damage on the door where someone would have had to pick the lock to get inside. Since the car was broken into a couple of months ago, we are always sure to keep the doors locked now. The nice policeman told me if I noticed anything wrong come morning, just give them a call. He apologized once again for waking me up, then said goodnight.

I think I was asleep immediately upon climbing back into bed. The only clear memory I have is of cool sheets and the scent of honeysuckle, roses and rosemary. I don't remember another thing until 7:00 this morning when Jacob hugged me sweetly and whispered "Happy Mother's Day, Mommy." Gosh I'm lucky.

Before I take off this morning I wanted to transfer a few of the entries from my old blog that was lost due to malfunction. I have them backed up but I would really like to keep them all together - particularly since it's the only proof I have of doing any type of writing whatsoever. I'll try to do several entries in one and if that fails for some reason I'll enter them one at a time here and there. Without further hesitation I'll introduce incontinuity to this new, and still somewhat organized blog...

GENERAL FRUSTRATION, ME TIME, NO TIME
[4/14/2003 12:28:31 AM | Geeky Mom]
It is my strongest desire to give my family a home that is a haven - a place that is relaxing, that caresses the soul of each person here. I work hard every day trying to make a comfortable and comforting place for us all. But you know what? I never get done. I never even get close to done and it ends up being a frustrating disappointment to me instead of an accomplishment of any kind and I feel that I fail my family by not being able to give them the comfort I work so hard to give. I suppose the problem is mine, and that it is impatience, not any real failure to accomplish, that makes me feel this way. I remodel, rebuild and redesign our house to optimize the comforts it can offer us but this is something that takes a long time since I do it alone and it creates a lot of chaos in the process. Sometimes I just feel defeated and I know that in my quest to make this type of home for my family, I miss opportunities to gather and relish full enjoyment of each day. It can easily become a torment for me rather than steps toward a goal. It seems that with each project I take on I hit a place where the next thing I need to do depends on something else (or some five other things...the downfall of doing it yourself LOL) and it gets overwhelming. I have the end result painted so clearly in my mind that I will push for it, long for it in such a way that I'll miss a lot of chances to enjoy what I'm working on and it becomes more of a JOB than something that I enjoy doing, and something that I am very good at doing. The only room I have come close to completing is our new kitchen. I get such great joy out of my family gravitating to that place in our house and even after a year each one will say "I love our new kitchen" or "This room makes a great kitchen" (our kitchen used to be in an interior room in the house with no window to outside and without room for a table large enough for the 5 of us...as a result we would often not eat together) There are still things in the new kitchen to finish...a few pieces of trim to put down and the stairs need to be sanded and refinished and I have a shelf to install over the stove that will have a spice rack (very large to hold my husband's favorite things) a place for pots and a couple of terrariums to grow his favorite fresh cooking herbs in under the high south facing windows above the shelf). It's been a year since I started on this room and sometimes the amount of time it takes to do something weighs on me and makes me feel inadequate. Now if I sit and think logically I should be proud. I put that custom oak and birch floor in myself. I set those cabinets and I built the section of counter top that lifts to give access to the garbage can. I did the tile inlays...I did it all and I should be darn proud instead of feeling like I've failed because it's been so long since I started it and there are still things to be done before it is "finished". How can I let myself feel such defeat in the middle of such large accomplishments? Why don't I get the full enjoyment (the reason I do all this to begin with) out of the process? I'm not sure why I am this way, but today I am making a conscious decision to enjoy the process. I realize that because it is in my nature to only look forward to the final result I am missing much from life. Life's journey is life's reward and I am cheating myself by only looking to the end. You know, I started building a pond for our screened porch week before last. It's a lovely thing (I think) with a spitter that fills a waterfall basin and then drains to a 2x4 foot main pond. Around it there is room for plants and even a place to sit on the edge of the pond's frame. We can open the sliding glass doors to the deck and be treated to the sound of the water trickling while we sit in the kitchen. Now the deck is a mess...the floor is muddy because we have no mulch for the back yard yet and the dogs just track mud all over, there are things I've packed to move to the basement sitting there waiting to be moved (I need help with them). Last night, once the pond was filled and running, every one of us went out there to sit and we enjoyed it immensely...even with all the things sitting out there that need to be moved...even with the mud covered floor. We found peace there even though it isn't "finished". So today I will start moving those things with my husband's help and we will start the process of clearing it off. As I can spare the time I will start putting that peaceful little place together. I will not wait until it is perfect to make the sign with the name we thought of to hang over the door to the porch (we're going to call it the Zen Pen or the Zen Zone, LOL). And I will not wait until my life is over or a large portion of it past before I start to enjoy the process. I've been missing out on too much.

EMILY THE WRITER...EMILY MY HEART
[4/6/2003 12:56:07 PM | Geeky Mom]
It's past 11:30 but I'm still an hour behind. The time change really messes me up for the first few days and my natural rythyms suffer greatly. It's good that they do it on the weekend but would be better if it was Friday night so we could get those two practice days in before we have to make it to school on time on Monday :) But enough complaining. It's been a wonderful weekend with many jobs accomplished and many blessings.

Friday night Jake and Leirin went to spend the night with my mom, leaving Emily and me alone. Since Jake has just started to spend the night away from home, this turned out to be the first time we had a whole night together by ourselves. We fixed ourselves up a bit and went to dinner. We were joined by a friend who wasn't able to find a seat. Emily was entertainment at it's finest. She seemed to just well up and blossom under the attention meant only for her. I was reminded of everything I've ever read about middle children. I was ashamed to think that I've allowed her to be pushed to the rear many times between the oldest and youngest of my children and I realized just how much she must miss. She is definitely the happy medium in our family, the peacemaker, the one who strives for balance, who struggles for recognition...

I couldn't say how many times she turned to me and said "I'm having such a good time, Mommy!" It was such a joy to see her so happy and at the same time broke my heart because I've let her go without such happiness for a very long time...without attention just for her. I get so caught up in trying to keep up from day to day that I seldom manage to strike a balance between what has to be done and what I want to do. Sometimes those things end up getting switched around too and the things I want to do begin to feel like chores because I'm constantly finding myself short of time to fit it all in. Well, yesterday Emily reminded me exactly what I want to be doing.

We were doing the morning house cleaning so we could get it out of the way and get to work on building the new pond for the screened porch. (which turned out great, btw) when Emily disappeared. I found her in her room sitting at her desk. When I asked her what she was doing she told me she was writing a book. She loves to write and journal so I told her she could finish what she was working on while I gathered tools for pond building. A little while later she came to me with several sheets of printer paper folded in half to make her book. On the cover it said - My World's Best Mommy by Emily Riggs. Her story went like this...
You do my laundry, and you love me.
You make up my bed, and you love me.
You clean my room sometimes, and you love me.
You help me with my homework, and you love me.
You clean the house, and you love me.
You make me feel better when I'm sick, and you love me.
You read books to me, and you love me.
You buy me stuff I need, and you love me.
You are nice, and you love me.
You are intelligent, and you love me.
You do the dishes, and you love me.
You gave me a great room and you filled it with love for me.
You spend time with me, and you love me.
You sing to me, and you love me.
You love me a whole lot and I love you.
You fill the world with love for me.

I can't even copy and paste it without tearing up! :) I couldn't have been given any gift that meant more to me than this. Emily is such a sweet and tender soul. I realize I get way too busy just keeping up and I likely miss a lot of special moments with my kids. Things like this remind me that I should be paying more attention to the areas of my life that hold my heart.

ON QUITTING SMOKING
[3/23/2003 8:40:51 AM | Geeky Mom]
It's been a mighty busy week. Each of the kids had to go to the doctor - Leirin's had to go twice. Even my grandma has been a couple of times. Bronchitis is the sickness of the week This time around though the talented Emily managed to skip the bronchitis in favor of a URI and ear infection. I took advantage of being stuck completely at home with sick kids by taking on several big clearing out projects in the basement. I moved and stacked boxes, packed away, tossed out, swept and mopped and dusted. By Wednesday it was looking as if there just might be some hope for that dungeon of a place after all. Wednesday night it completely flooded. We took 4 1/2 inches of rainfall on Wednesday afternoon and I guess the already soaked ground gave up trying to absorb all that water and just poured it all into the basement instead. All that work...it was disheartening but the fact that I had cleaned it well did help to make clean up a bit easier. I'm trying to look on the bright side instead of asking WHY?????

I've been up for an hour and I've just lit my first cigarette of the morning. Not exactly true, it's my 3rd smoke but the first REAL cigarette. The first two I had were herbal cigarettes with no tobacco and no nicotine. Will I win this time? Chances are the answer to that one will be a resounding NO, but I do still intend to try. I signed up for a quitting smoking list with several of my friends from another forum. I thought the constantly available support might be just what I need and may help me succeed when past attempts have been such miserable failures. Well, I wasn't on the list but a few days when my predictable old habits broke the surface - I started to smoke even more. I'm not sure why it is that when faced with actually getting rid of a habit I don't want to begin with, I grab hold of it and hold on for dear life as if I'll never let go. I've been studying this pattern and I've convinced myself that my mental addiction is just as strong as the physical one and herbal cigarettes may be just what I need to break the nicotine habit while giving me that thing I need to keep me busy. What better way to keep from being so focused on smoking than by smoking? Finally, I had a plan.

So today I woke up, armed myself with the herbal cigarettes, switched the coffee pot on, and sat down for my ritual first of the morning smoke. After having two of them I can honestly say that if this was the only cigarette I had to pick, quitting would be no problem. YUCK they are nasty. When they burn they give off a very unique scent - a blend something like marijuana, dirt and sweaty socks. So I'm at least willing to give it a try. At the very least they will turn me off of cigarettes for the rest of my life, but hey, that is the point of the whole thing. So I wait and see. I would really like to be a non-smoker. To smell cleaner, to smell better myself, to breathe better, taste more...all those things are so very appealing to me. But so is smoking, and it's time I just admit it and learn to work around that or I'm never going to manage quitting. I spend a lot of time at home, not alone, but away from the company of other adults. I have very little time for hobbies of my own. I make soap, but I haven't soaped since October of last year. I make most of our bath and skin care stuff, but I haven't done that since right before the holidays last year also. I love to sew, and though I've continued to amass a large collection of materials and patterns, even a new serger - I haven't got to sew in years. Smoking has become my portable hobby I guess. It's the one thing that is mine that I can do in spite of everything I already have to do. Silly I know, but the truest statement I've ever made, I think.

So wish me luck. We'll see how it goes at the end of the day, I guess. I'll either make it or I'll have everyone in the house marching like a soldier by supper time ;)

Update on quitting smoking: I don't tolerate the herbal cigarettes well enough to smoke them all the time. They seem to "burn hot" and they are hell on my throat and there's that whole smells like pot thing...I don't smoke them when I leave the house. I've slipped a lot but I'm staying at less than half of my normal smoking habits so I count that as progress. It isn't going to happen easy but I can see myself being a non-smoker at some point.

OF BIRTHDAYS AND NASTY BUGS
[3/15/2003 11:47:45 AM | Geeky Mom]
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JACOB!!!
Emily woke me up this morning before 7:00 to remind me that it is Jacob's birthday. She was standing by my bed dressed in her pj's with her big winter coat on over them...hood pulled up over her head to keep it warm. "Mom. It's Jakey's birthday! Should I wake him up?" She looked so excited standing there with her hands in the coat pockets. "Why do you have your coat on? No, let him sleep for a little while since he's sick."

And there ended my sleep. I grabbed my heavy robe as I headed out the bedroom door on my way to start the coffee. Emily was right; it was cold in the house this morning. I sat down in front of the computer trying to remember the dreams I had last night. It was an odd one. I can only remember parts of it, the most vivid being us trying to make it across a bridge that had been rebuilt. It was over a large lake and it swung like a rope bridge even though it was meant to support cars. The road part wasn't paved but there were boards placed across 2 foot deep pits of mud. Apparently the car tires were meant to roll on the boards. It was like a swinging train track. The rain was pouring down hard making it difficult for us to see as we held on to the boards that were already covered with water (I'm not sure if it wasn't built out of the water or if it was flooding) It would sway back and forth in the water as we tried to crawl across it. Very odd. By now the rest of the dream has escaped me. Maybe later on if the house gets quiet again I'll have better luck remembering the rest of it. For now all I know is that it was weird. Must have been all those white chocolate dipped strawberries I ate last night before bed.

When I went to let the dogs out they refused to come out of the crates (I guess they heard it raining) so I shut the door to let them sleep a while longer. Maybe by the time they HAD to get up and go out, the rain would have stopped or at least let up some. (No such luck, as it turned out, and they had to go out in the rain) I don't know where they got the idea that they are too delicate for rain. I surely didn't give it to them.

Jake finally woke up at a few minutes past 9. I saw him pass by the door without even bothering to stop and give me a chance to tell him happy birthday. Did he forget? I called him back and gave him a big birthday hug and sung the song for him. When he left to go watch tv I heard Emily tell him happy birthday as soon as he walked into the livingroom "Ooooooh, you remembered!" Jake said and I heard him run across the floor to give her a big hug too. What a sweetie! Jake had missed the call from his dad this morning (he had a wedding to cater so he won't get to be home til later this afternoon) but my grandma called soon after to talk to him and give her birthday wishes as well. Jake is feeling quite famous. He's determined to have a great day regardless of what happened to ruin his party and him feeling bad.

I guess I've sat here long enough this morning. It's nearly noon and I'm still here drinking coffee as if my house will clean itself. It was obvious when I went to the bathroom earlier that that isn't going to happen. I suppose it's up to me.
[edit]
[3/14/2003 10:52:28 AM | Geeky Mom]
It's another perfect day - how lucky! Ok, so every person I've talked to today has called it gloomy, but I think it's just perfect. Overcast, yes, but I woke up at 6:30 to a fabulous 53 degrees, the wind is blowing a nice cool, comfortable breeze. It's light enough to see, not bright enough for sunglasses, but we definitely have daylight and in spite of the clouds, no rain threatens until at least tomorrow, I'm pretty sure. All through the house the open window sills are filled with cats...apparently they agree with me that it's a good day. My third load of laundry is in the wash, my bathroom has been scrubbed spotless, the coffee is still warm; I can't complain.

Today we bring home Emily's class pet - a guinea pig named Kennedy. She's so excited to get a chance to show her responsible self to her teacher. She's so eager to please. Their class is gone on a field trip to Roper Mountain Science Center today - another exciting happening in the life of Em. What a great personality she is. This morning she dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and when it was time for us to leave, she put on her heavy fur lined coat. I had to laugh. Then, of course, I had to explain to her that if she felt like she needed that coat she should definitely be wearing jeans and not shorts. In the end she opted for a lightweight cardigan sweater.

We got school pictures back this week and for the first time in years, Leirin has had a beautiful picture made. She is so shy and she hates performing for people. Every professional photo she's ever had made has been with a fake smile and a scared look. This year she was impressive though. The photographer positioned her different than the planned pose in order to avoid covering up her long, thick hair. He positioned it in front of her shoulder on one side so it cascades down in a wave that shows off her face to perfection. It's an awesome picture. Emily's pictures turned out great too. Her face never fails to show her happiness.

Jake is still coughing horribly and he's practically taken up residence on the couch, but he does not complain. I can ask him how he feels and he'll say "Fine." He's had such a horrible week and even though his birthday party is pretty much a lost cause he's not complained once except to say "It's probably going to be hard to make this the bestest birthday ever all by myself." :(

SCREEN DOORS AND ELECTRIC FENCES
[3/13/2003 10:39:35 AM | Geeky Mom]
Spring fever...
Each new and beautiful day I find myself having difficulty limiting my plans for the day to inside the house. I am suddenly desperate to have the screened porch cleared, cleaned and reorganized to offer a quiet resting place for these lovely days and evenings. I've taken measurements for window scarves for each screen section of the deck, found a lovely water pool with a fountain that would fit nicely in a corner, my wicker rockers are turned upside down waiting hopefully for the rockers to be replaced (in a way that will actually work this time). The birdfeeders have been stocked and positioned in places that will make watching the birds from the porch and kitchen easy - I've even cleaned windows.

I'm having a grand old time. Though I usually do a certain amount of spring cleaning, it isn't my biggest focus at this time of the year. Spring is a time for creating things. It's when I want to build, craft and sew. I save the major cleaning and clearing for the fall. Change and destruction go well with fall so I guess it's no coincidence that it's the time of year I'm most motivated to declutter, dust and throw away.

Yesterday I replaced the sliding glass door screen and within ten minutes every one of the dogs had ran headlong into it. Now, even when it is open, they hesitate to pass through the open doorway. An electric fence couldn't be more effective. The dogs may not be happy with the new door screen but the cats sure are...nothing like a bigger climbing area. I just hope it holds up long enough to let us enjoy the weather.

I'm in good spirits even though the week is not going anywhere close to my original plans. Jacob's birthday is Saturday and out of 8 kids invited, it looks like not a one will be able to make it. Top it off with both Jake and Leirin coming down with a nasty cough and a temperature, throw in a husband with an entirely different ailment of the contagious type and it looks like we're in for several more days of changing plans.

A LONGING TO GO HOME
[3/10/2003 10:55:15 AM | Geeky Mom]
My pop still lives in the same place he did when I was growing up. In 1990 the population of the town (which is actually quite large in terms of land) was 562...that's it. It didn't even have a traffic light until just a few years ago and even now the light is set to blink caution all the time. It's not meant to stop traffic unless the fire truck needs to pull out.

Just driving into this area the atmosphere takes on a different feel. It's a slower paced environment where cows and goats graze lazily and people sit on their porches. It's a land of pastures and gardens...a cozy and comfortable place. I remember when I last lived there as a teen, I couldn't wait to get out. The slow-motion pace of life seemed crushing to my high-strung spirit. I had so much more to do and see than I could find there. Now though, I'd give my right arm and someone else's if I could go back.

My family home was at the base of a spur of Six Mile Mountain - no more than a hill really when compared to "real" mountains. Sitting on the porch you were more likely to hear the sounds of barking dogs, tractors, kids, and birds than traffic. Weekend activities usually consisted of fixing cars, gardening, fishing, or sitting on the porch. Water came from a well and we drank from an old dipper that hung by my grandmother's enamel sink. People left trees around their homes; driveways (and some roads) were mostly dirt or gravel. I love trees. It's not hard to spot old homestead sites when we're out driving in the country. There is a way a certain grouping of trees grow up to snuggle the open space between then and you just know that at one time a home stood sheltered in their midst. Nowadays it seems no house is built without first clear cutting the land surrounding it.

When I was a child we spent many summers walking in the woods picking muscadines or blackberries, climbing trees, building forts, and catching crawdads in the streams. Life was good and I didn't have the sense to notice.

Now that I'm married and I've spent ten years living in a college town with a highway within a hundred yards of my front yard, and a couple thousand people within a one-mile radius; I can appreciate the serenity offered by the place I grew up in. There is no quiet to be found here. We can seldom hear the crickets sing at night and I haven't heard a tree frog over the drone of constant traffic in many years. I ache to be back there again. I want my kids to know the peace of the country. I'd like for them to hear an owl, a bobcat, and tree frogs. I myself would love to stand in a field of morning glories again or stand in the midst of millions of lightening bugs. My kids have never rolled a fallen tree branch to dig worms. They don't know the joy of life without neighbors near enough to hear each other’s toilet flush. Our dogs have never chased a rabbit or had enough room to run without a fence for boundary and safety.

My children have never experienced the sense of belonging to the world around them - not like that. They I made up the story of the old man I used to see walking down the road every day. He dressed in overalls and carried a stick, a bandana hung from his bib pocket to wipe his face. A scruffy little mutt of a dog would follow obediently behind him. I would pass him daily as I drove to work or to the store and he would stop walking to turn, smile and wave at me no matter which direction I came from. He would do that with each car that passed. I guess the man is dead now - that was nearly 15 years ago - but I think of him every time I drive that stretch of road. I would give anything to go back.

HANDSOME MAN TYPES
[3/9/2003 11:34:33 AM | Geeky Mom]
I woke up at 5:30 this morning, dragged myself out of bed, made coffee and picked up a few dishes and trash on my way through the house, suddenly it was 7:00. Did I doze off while standing at the coffee pot? The rest of the morning has flown as swiftly by - it's now nearly 10:30 and I'm still sitting here sipping my coffee, enjoying the quiet.

The morning may be moving by at super speed, but I'm definitely in snail mode today. I'm in no hurry to shrug off the soft silk pajamas with insides brushed to the soft feel of flannel; give up my coffee cup, or my overstuffed slippers. Soon I'll have to do, but I'm not rushing.

The cats are enjoying a game of bottle cap hockey across the tile floor; the dogs are scuffling over a denta-bone even though they have one each (it seems Corri has collected them all when the others weren't looking and now they want them back). Brandy is stretched out in a toasty warm patch of sunlight by the big bay window. It's what separates the old dogs from the pups just as well as it does the parent from the children...an ability to appreciate the perfect resting spot.

Outside it is surprisingly warm, a perfect morning of comfortable temperature, a tender breeze and a slight crisp scent in the air. It's the promise of a kind of day so exquisite your mind carefully packages every detail in a memory and stores it in a special place so it can be recalled in an instant. Days like this are meant to hold the memory of a special event. Maybe I will mark this day with the planting of the new Damascus roses my husband bought to add to my garden. Days like this are to me what pork fat is to Emeril. Oh yeah baby.

Speaking of Emeril I wonder if he talks like that in real life. Hopefully it's a line he reserves only for cooking because sexy, it's not. But then, I have different ideas about what is sexy than most people do. Brad Pitt...he's girly. I'd take an aging Sean Connery over him or Leonardo DiCaprio any day. Sean Connery is sexy by most people's standards though. I don't think Robert Redford is sexy either, handsome, to be sure, but not sexy. Val Kilmer is on and off sexy...Top Gun Val is sissy, while Tombstone Val is throw-me-down-on-the-ground-and-have-your-way sexy. Alton Brown (the Food Networks, Good Eats guy) is also sexy. Harrison Ford is at his highest point when he is geeky too...forget Indiana Jones, I'll take the professor.

My husband is constantly surprised by what I qualify as sexy about men. I tend to have a thing for bald men, intelligent types, and definitely rugged over girly but geeky isn't necessarily girly.

I also tend to find accents thrilling, particularly Scots (it's what I'm sure pushes Sean Connery to the top of my list - that and the graying pony tail worn with a bald spot showing on top...like in Medicine Man). I have a recording of a Scottish jig played on bagpipes. It's a live recording and at the end the fellow says "You know, the lasses have got to rrrespect a man that can blow, fingerrr and squeeeze all at the same time." Well hey, I do, but even a man ill equipped at such multi-tasking with a voice like that would be a winner in my book. At least he'd have my undivided attention any time he spoke.

My husband is much more predictable in his tastes...Pamela Anderson is the ultimate woman in his mind. How is it that we ended up being married??? ;) Ah well, he buys me roses and he brings me particularly pretty flowers he may find blooming whether he finds them in our yard or growing between the steps that lead to where he parks his car at work. He loves me - far cry from Pam that I am - so he can't be too caught up in that kind of looks.

GROWING UP AND GROWING OLD
[3/8/2003 2:41:05 PM | Geeky Mom]
Today I am having some alone time. My mom has all three of my kids and I have a few hours to myself. For the past two days I've had my 8-month-old nephew and I've accomplished very little in the house. In fact, it is beginning to look as if it's been weeks since I've accomplished any cleaning. Austin has learned to fight sleep and he seems determined to turn it into an art form. I end the day with him in desperate need of a nap myself.

My baby will be turning 6 in a week. It's been a mighty long time since I've had a baby and I do love babies so. My kids are growing up and they become more and more independent with the passing of time and turn to me less and less. They are beginning to learn that mom can't fix everything and even if I could, they've developed a need to do it on their own. I marvel at how sad that makes me sometimes when it is, in fact, my goal to raise children that will grow to be mature, responsible adults. Motherhood is truly the only job we spend our lives trying to work ourselves out of. If we've done it right, our kids won't need to rely on us; and if they do, we've failed at something most important.

Every year I'm both sad and thrilled to see how my kids have grown. And though every day I wish for just a little more time to spend on me...to remember the person that I am, or that I was...I realize that already so many connections I've shared with my children have been severed.

Leirin, at age 11, has developed an intense need for privacy. She spends hours on the phone with friends. She's even has no doubt as to what she wants to be when she grows up - a large animal vet. She has an affinity for horses that is unquenchable, and she can envision herself doing nothing other than making them a major focus of her life's work. It's such a suitable match for her and I have no doubt she has already made the choice most suited to her. Leirin is strong, solid and dependable (also ornery, sassy and fierce). She possesses as much insecurity as confidence, which keeps her balanced, even though it brings her much conflict. Leirin is a warrior...intense as the sun, able to warm you to a glow or shrivel the weak with the full force of her strength. She is both a challenge and a blessing of immense proportions. She is my first, my heart.

Emily will turn 8 in July. Em is a butterfly...flittering and floating from one thing to the next, carried along sometimes as if by the force of the wind. She is bright and lively and full of passion for many things - a lover of all things living. She wears her heart on her sleeve and she experiences emotions completely, without sheltering herself. Whatever she does she does it to the very best of her ability though she lacks the ability to give herself the credit she deserves. She is so much smarter than she thinks she is. She feels her connection to all things, experiences it fully whether good or bad. There's a brave soul behind those wildly innocent eyes. Another of my blessings - Em is a reminder to experience the life you live completely and with reckless abandon. She is a fiery spirit feeding off the energy of everything around her, loving every minute with every ounce of her being. She is life's force in action.

Jacob will turn 6 on the 15th. Jake is the last of my babies and, as that, the one I hate to see grow up the most. He is my finale. He is kindness and generosity and he possesses an understanding of emotions that is well beyond his years. He's an old and gentle soul with a strong presence. Jake is adventurous, much too much for his own safety or my sanity. I'm often surprised at the number of things he's managed to do without permanently damaging himself in the process. He is an adventurer...eager to learn and experience all things, still always caring and thoughtful. Last night, we were on our way home from dinner when he said, "Mom, when I go away to my friends house or to Nanny’s, are you very lonely?" I explained to him that I always miss him and his sisters when they are gone but the fact that I am alone doesn't mean I am lonely. A person needs time alone, to listen to their thoughts, to get to know themselves. He said "Ok, because I was just wondering if you wanted me to wait until Daddy was home before I leave you so you won't have to be by yourself." Jake is a comfort to have near; he is compassionate, understanding, and loving. He, much like Emily, gives his all to everything he does - to everyone he loves. He is pure joy.

If my kids never grew up, if they remained babies I wouldn't know the beautiful people they are becoming. That would be even sadder than having to watch them grow up and away from me. I have not been the greatest mom, though I've tried my best to be. Sometimes there is no good compromise in what you'd like to do and what must be done for them, and there aren't words in existence to explain the depth of feeling and number of reasons that go into each "because I said so." I don't know if I can ever be the kind of mom I would like to be, but I do hope they understand just how much I love them even if I don't always get it right. Maybe they too will need to be grown with children of their own before they can really know that they are the pulse of my heart, and understand what it means.

OLD DOGS AND DEMOLITION
[3/1/2003 11:15:17 AM | Geeky Mom]
It's nearly 10:30 already and I'm still sitting here in my gown and robe drinking coffee. I haven't brushed my teeth, my hair or even looked at my face (too scared).

It's what I love about the weekend.

In just a little while I'll have to give up the warm comfy chair at my desk and make myself presentable, clean the house up a bit and prepare for the serious business of the day. For now though, I'm content to just sit here and listen to Brandy dog bark at the door because she thinks she shouldn't have to go outside when it's so foggy the air is wet (she's much too delicate for that you know). It's a battle of wills between that dog and me. Older than all of my children at the ripe old age of 13 she is a senior citizen by all standards I know of. She's got the intelligence and attitude of a wise old dog to be sure. Many are the times she's stood stock still in front of me with her lips slightly parted staring me down in front of the door I hold open as if to say "I do NOT have to go potty now and I'm NOT wasting a trip outside!" If she were a human, she'd outrank me by more than 50 years and I imagine I'd loose just as many of these battles of will as I do now. But she is not capable of opening the door so for the time being, I'm winning :)

Brandy is a Boston Terrier and one of the loves of my life..ornery old fart though she may be. She looks at me as if she knows the secrets of my heart and understands them. She takes up for me when my husband and I argue. She'll march in place in front of him and give him this rolling little whistling sound that she does when she has something to say that she feels is important. She has an intense stare that would intimidate most - animal and human alike - and she is a master of the pout. When I decide to go open the door for her she will walk inside the door with a look that won't fail to let me know how mad she is, but just in case, she'll be sure to give me a big snorting huff of breath as she passes me by without looking at me. The dog has drama down.

Of course battling my old dog for the top spot in the house isn't the only fun thing I make time for on the weekends. Later on I'll be making a run to Lowes to buy stuff for remodeling our old kitchen. We're turning it into a study/library. I see the vision of it clearly in my mind. Now all I have to do is find all the stuff to do it in stock and at a price I can afford. The thought of ripping out the cabinets has me darn near giddy. I LOVE demolition. I use the thought of demolition to motivate me to begin and the vision of what I want to end up with to keep me going. It's a good system. I can see a warm room filled with rich colored wood and deep, comfy chairs. The opening (not really a doorway) will get new columns and maybe an arched top - or maybe not, I'm not sure yet.

I love working in our house. It gets overwhelming at times to realize I've spent so many years trying to bring it to the end result I have pictured in my head, and I probably have at least a few more years to go still. But I have to wonder what I'd do with myself if I didn't do the house? When I first moved in here the walls were full of holes and their dingy color and uncared for floors were so depressing. I'm really not anal about a clean house, but I do have to be comfortable and relaxed at home and I can't do that in the middle of a big mess. Maybe that makes me anal about it by default? I don't know.

I enjoy the calm and peacefulness of things in order...probably because that means I don't have to clean it up. I'd guess it's also partly because a place where things are in order doesn't scream for something to be done - rather it calls gently to be enjoyed, used, and relaxed in. I could use the relaxing part. I'll never have a home where I wake to perfect order, but I hope to create one that makes maintaining order possible - a place that manifests a peacefulness to everyone who enters (especially for me). It's not an easy accomplishment with a brood of animals as large as ours and with three kids constantly on the move, but I hope to find it won't be impossible to create sanctuary in the midst of chaos.

In the meantime there are numerous trips to Lowes and things like demolition to help maintain my sanity. I do love the weekend.

RUSHING THROUGH, WISHING AWAY
[2/26/2003 10:01:36 AM | Geeky Mom]
"I can't wait for spring!" It's become such a common thought; I'm guaranteed to hear this sentiment expressed by someone before 9 am every morning. Why is it that we never seem satisfied with the way things are? Last summer the drought was so bad here we were literally years behind in rainfall. At my house we went 3 entire months without seeing a drop of rain, whether areas around us managed to squeeze out a shower here and there or not. Each night the local weatherman would lament the lack of rain, give an update on the severity of the drought and mention a forming system somewhere off to the west hoping that it would bring us rain. If we were lucky enough to see rain the forecast went something like this...
"Today brought some much needed rain to the area, but relief is just around the corner. I'll be back later on with the details."

Relief? They're talking of relief from a day's rain when it would take an event of Noah-ic proportions to bring us any real relief from the drought? Other times of the year are no different though; our winters are so unseasonably warm insects plague us during warmer weather. Our forecasts now are much the same, "John, any chance for warmer weather in the near future?” or "John, any chance we'll get some relief from the heat any time soon?"

Why is it that we rush through the seasons of our years just as we wished we could rush through the season of our youth? People seem in all to big of a hurry to get to some place different. We seem to never find satisfaction in the place we happen to stand at any single moment. If it's raining, we pine for sunshine though if the sun were to be shining we'd talk about how much we could use the rain. If it's cool we wish it were hot so we could go to the lake or the beach. Of course if it were hot enough to go to the beach, we'd be hoping for a cool spell to bring us some relief.

We are fast becoming a people who seem to be unable to accept any situation as is. We live each day running at breakneck speed from the time our feet hit the floor in the mornings until we settle down for rest at night. The pace of life is such that people have to make time to "stop and smell the roses". We seem to forget though that those roses we are hoping will make our break from the hustle and bustle of life worthwhile need the rain, the sun, and the changes in seasons.

Our lives are filled with technological advancements we have become convinced we couldn't live without - though people did just that for far longer than they've been available to us. We fill our homes and lives with things designed to make tasks go more quickly and easily than ever before yet we have no time for life still. Even when we realize how caught up we are in the realm of chaos we are at a loss as to how we can possibly reclaim life, and precious time. And if we did, would we be capable of being satisfied with the outcome once we actually had it? I have to wonder.

Every night at the dinner table, each member of our family takes turns telling the rest of us the best part of their day. I've recently noticed how frequently even my 5 year old will say, "I don't have a best part of my day." Even I have had trouble coming up with something I felt was sufficient at times. I wonder how that is possible. Why does it take something of magnitude to qualify as the best part of a day when we have all had another day with each other? Why has it become insignificant that we are all capable of walking, we have scores of books throughout our homes and the rest of our family is only a phone call away, we have toilets that flush for goodness sakes. Why can't we be satisfied?

I have my own wishes for things I'd like to be different. It shames me actually, to think of all the things I complain about. I also find myself pining for spring, making plans for my garden, wanting to wear shorts and feel sun warm on my skin. I'm disappointed though that I don't spend as often thinking of what I DO have than what I wish I had.

ILLNESS, WINDCHIMES, AND UNDERSTANDING
[2/23/2003 7:27:01 AM | Geeky Mom]
This is my first morning back among the living after having been nearly wiped out by a big nasty virus or the flu - I'm not sure which. It started with Jacob at the end of last week and settled on him Friday morning just after midnight. By Friday afternoon I was taken down by a severe headache (which in hindsight, I can now remember being one of Jacob's first complaints early Thursday). By 8:00 Friday night it had fully claimed me and Emily and Leirin joined us around 10:00. There has been almost no rest but practically nothing but rest in our house since it started. We sleep in fits whenever we can manage, our diet has consisted of popsicles, jello, gingerale and water, and even those things have not been very agreeable to our tummies.
I can't remember when any of us have been so ill. Thankfully we all seem to have rested fairly well last night and the big nasty seems to be on it's way out. I woke up this morning at 5:00 wanting a cup of coffee...ahhh what a relief.

Outside the wind is howling and thunder rumbles occasionally off in the distance. I can't tell if the storm is coming toward us or moving away. The wind is definitely here though. I wait for sunrise so I will be able to look out and see if we've lost any trees - it's been that windy for the last few hours. Outside my kitchen windows the windchimes sing without pause...it's what I love about the wind.

A couple of years ago my husband began buying tuned chimes for me for holidays and I've collected several sets. Each side of the bay window in the kitchen holds a pair - one is tuned to sound like church bells, the other is a song of dawn but I can't remember the name. They are not the type of chimes that just make a racket of tinkling noises, these chimes create lovely music. We have been known to crack the windows in the midst of severe storms and in spite of frigid temperatures in order to hear them throughout the house.

The set outside our bedroom window sings lightly even in the meanest of winds - a gentle but constant hum that is felt as well as heard. Everyone appreciates the song of the chimes. I am as likely to find my cats perched in the windows where the chimes are, swaying slightly with their eyes closed each time the wind kicks up enough to bring them to life as I am to find my husband or the kids sitting nearby listening. They have been the kind of gift we enjoy on a deeper level than with most types of gifts...much like the rose beds my husband gifts me with on some occasions.

Life races by at breakneck speed daily. Since I have not yet become organized enough to slow the pace of life, I need a reminder to stop occasionally and notice those things I can't see...like the wind. Inside the bay window 3 of my cats are sitting, eyes closed, listening to the chimes sing softly in the wind. Later, when the kids are awake, and if they are feeling up to it, they will each take some time to stop at the window and notice the song of the chimes. While at the window they will take the time to search out the cardinals that live in our back yard and hope for a chance to see the red-tail hawk that occasionally perches on the swing set in the yard below.

My husband seems to understand what gifts like the chimes and roses do for me. I love to smell good, have nice things for my bath and home, but roses and windchimes are a gift for my soul. A man that understands that is a gift in itself.

OVERSLEPT AND GRUMPY
[2/19/2003 7:54:06 PM | Geeky Mom]
Bad credit, slow credit, no credit...
It occurs to me today that they figure this all backwards. My dad has been trying to get a loan to buy his mother's house back from the state. She was required to sign it over to the state when she was admitted to a nursing home several years ago. The house and land it sits on will cost less to buy than probably 50% of the new cars on the market yet my dad can't qualify for a loan because he has no credit.

I have to wonder what they have in mind when a man that owes nothing but utility bills, has worked steadily and reliably for nearly 50 years, only having 3 jobs during that time, can't qualify for a loan. What are we missing here? We're talking about a home loan with an amount so low it could actually be paid in full within 5 years time and still come with a monthly payment less than some cars. Because he has saved to buy everything he's ever owned, he isn't a worthy risk to a creditor anywhere?

***Here it occurs to me that it is the people most likely to be late that earn the loan companies the most income so no, my dad is not a good risk to creditors after all. Next time I open something from the bank wanting to raise my credit limit I might not think that is so cool.

Where did we get so mixed up and misquided? We may be the world's super power, but we're lacking something in the common sense department when this is the norm. I do realize that I am lucky to live in a place where I can say pretty much whatever I'd like to, whenever I'd like, to whomever will listen. I am lucky that I can go to school at the ripe old age of 34 if I'm interested. I'm lucky to be able to choose the number of children I'd like to have, or not have. I am lucky to be able to choose my own religion and my hair color. Still, there is some messed up stuff going on.

There is enough money in sports to solve the problems of the world. People who barely earn enough to survive are paying 1/4 to 1/3 of that money they need so desperately to live on straight off the top to the government. Health insurance that actually covers enough to allow people to go to the doctor when they need to rather than trying to wait illness out is not affordable for people with no benefit packages in place at their jobs. Self employed people are just up the creek all the way around. Why can people earn millions for tossing a ball around once a week and we can't see that our children are properly housed, fed and receive proper medical treatment? How did we get so out of whack?

I believe real balance in the governing of our country won't come until the runner up in the Presidential race becomes Vice President, until we get rid of all the politicians and get some humanists in office, until people can earn more than $20,000.00 a year without owing taxes...or even 10K. I believe anyone caught in a lie in their campain should be disqualified, we should be allowed to vote against candidates rather than having to not vote or choose the lesser of two evils, and mothers - whether they work or stay at home - should receive a tax credit, or a paid holiday or something. The commander in chief should actually be determined by the majority vote of the people. A dependable, hardworking man who happens not to take a loan to purchase new underwear or groceries should not be too big a risk to allow him to buy the home he was raised in.

I haven't had the best of days. And somebody (who will remain nameless to protect their identity) messed with my alarm clock and I overslept two hours this morning. There's one sunrise down...

DAWN
[2/18/2003 2:33:42 PM | Geeky Mom]
For the past two days I've been awake by 5am. My husband's aunt passed away last week and we had to make an early morning trip down to mid-state on Friday. I forgot to change the alarm setting Monday morning so I was awakened long before sunrise by the radio. School was delayed for two hours so I went back to bed. This morning though, when the 5am alarm rang, I gave in to it and dragged myself out of bed. The house was a kind of silent in the complete darkness that I usually fail to meet each morning. The extra hour allowed me time to move unhurried through my routine. I took time to enjoy my coffee sitting in the bay window watching dawn break through the trees. I heard the birds begin to stir before the sound of traffic built to a steady rythym. I reveled in the feeling of being alone and having uninterrupted quiet to boot.

I was here to greet the sun with my morning devotion for the first time in a year since I wrote it. When it was time to wake the kids, I woke them gently and moved through the rest of the morning routine at the pace set by the rising of the sun and the hour before. I remembered something I heard a man say once as he was being interviewed on television. I can't remember it exactly but it was something like this...I realized on my birthday last year that I probably have more dawns behind me than ahead of me. I vowed then to never miss a chance to see another sunrise.

Though I'm not sure if I have more dawns behind me or ahead of me, I like that idea. Tomorrow morning will find me sitting in the bay window waiting to welcome the dawn, with a whole new outlook on my morning routine.

I LOVE SNOW
[2/17/2003 11:43:10 AM | Geeky Mom]
I've just returned from dropping the girls off at school. We had a two-hour delay this morning due to the ice we got from the storm. I've been watching the news reports with pictures from D.C. and other areas with, or expecting, FEET of snow. I wish we got real snow like that here. My husband makes fun of me because I'll get all happy when I see pictures of big piles of snow on the news - he likes to tell me it's not all fun (he comes from up north where snow is common). I think snow is good.
The most snow I can remember seeing in my lifetime was 1987 (I think) when we got 18 inches. Where I live, more than a dusting to an inch is pretty much unheard of. Since we never get weather like that, we don't have sleds and such, but garbage bags work just fine in a pinch. Laundry baskets make for good speed down a hill too. We got to make real snowmen - not the miniatures with pieces of grass sticking out all over the place like we normally have to make. We had a snowman community in our front yard.
Every year since then I've hoped for a decent snow and usually I'm disappointed. Still any amount of snow makes me happy.
I wonder if I lived in a place that did get a lot of snow, if it could still be as special to me as it is now. I'm not sure, but I think it would be. I've never experienced quite the level of peace I feel when I watch snow fall. Just being able to smell the snow coming has a great effect on me. Snow definitely does something for my spirit - snow medicine - that's what it is. When there's a blanket of snow covering the trees it's possible to hear nature's song. Since snow shuts most everything down where I live because we are largely unprepared for dealing with any amount of snow beyond a dusting to an inch, people get quiet. Life slows down. I am content.
Maybe it's because I wish I could live my life as if we had snow every day. Slow enough, and quiet enough to hear each snowflake as it lands...quiet enough to hear my spirit sigh with contentment. Snow is more than good to me - it's sacred.

And this concludes the updating of the blog. Probably a way deeper look into the insanity of me than anyone would ever want. Luckily, nobody ever reads this but me but for some reason, I feel better having it all in one place.

I was awake this morning by 6am and I have to wonder why it isn't so easy to wake up on school days. I didn't even sleep well last night and was up until after 3am. It's perplexing that on just 3 hours of sleep I can be awake and restless at that time of the morning. Nevermind the getting up at 5am deal I made with myself earlier in the year...that went totally out the window though I can still appreciate the reasoning behind it, and I wish with all my heart I could do it...I just don't live that kind of life that allows wakefulness at that time of day. Unless, of course, it's Saturday and I don't *have* to be up.

Speaking of not having to be up...I'm a bit surprised that it's past 8:30 and my kids are still in bed. Even my fat computer kitty, Pooh, is still crashed out in Emily's room, taking up the majority of her desk top. Last week my husband and I kept mentioning how small our cats seem to be getting. We wondered if they might be sick or not eating enough. Maybe the possums are eating all the food we put outside for our outdoor cats, we thought. Then last night, we received our answer. At just 9 months old, Pooh kitty dwarfs even our large siamese, Simon. Not only is Pooh fuzzy poofy, he is chubby beyond the chubby norm. He has a tongue as rough as the coarsest sandpaper and an affinity for licking. Loving the Pooh can be about as painful as a carpet burn, and look much the same.

In a little while my pop will be coming over to help me with some wiring and I will be able to finish up the new slash room (old kitchen) I don't like wiring - I shock easily. At the end of the day, I also hope to have the refrigerator's icemaker hooked up and we can leave behind the old fashioned trays and just press a button for shaved ice or cold water straight from the refrigerator door. No more opening the fridge to find 3 ice trays with only one piece of ice each. No more sloshing water from the trays all the way across the room (I don't know how I ever managed to wait tables...I can't walk with a full coffee cup without sloshing either). The only drawback I can see is our first month's water bill. Being served through a refrigerator door much like fixing a drink from a soda fountain at a restaurant will be the highlight of the month for sure. If only we could get it to pour coke instead of just plain water...

Today Emily (our 7yo) will be going to work with her dad. She makes quite a hostess and she takes her job seriously. She will come home this afternoon and tell me each detail of her day, including the line she uses in greeting people. "Hello, my name is Emily, just have a seat and your server will be right with you." She's adorable and often gets tipped just for that. She loves bussing tables, washing dishes and talking to people. She's quite good restaurant material when you get right down to it. She has a sparkling personality, a love of words (read - talks non-stop), and she never meets a stranger. She will come home this afternoon, count her money carefully before putting it away, all the while complaining about how she wasn't ready to have to leave yet. She will have a good work ethic, that one. During the summer she will work most Saturdays and save her money for something special, or just plain save it. Last year she opened a bank account and though she didn't save all of her money it's only been recently that she spent the last of the money she earned while working that one day a week.

My how time flies. It's going on 11:00 now and I've done little more than drink a pot of coffee, get Em ready for work, plan the work day with my pop and order a pair of shoes for my husband. Finding shoes to fit that man is a lot of hard work, but that's a whole 'nother entry...

I just read this quote and I had to pop in real quick and put it in here before I forgot...

Men are like a fine wine. They start out as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the crap out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

Keep smiling!

I woke up this morning to the sound of a real, honest to goodness early morning thunderstorm. Not thunder in the distance, mind you, there is a distinct difference and thunder in the distance is about all we have had recently (though there has been lots of it). This was the kind of thunderstorm that charges all the space around you with it's energy and wraps you in a snug storm cocoon. The kind of storm that's so consistent you can feel the lightening building outside, from within yourself. Odd how I describe a high energy circumstance, yet the result of such a storm makes me want to just stay curled up in bed and listen while it scoots ever closer.

There's nothing like it.

No such luck today though. It is my nephew's first day in his new daycare which translates to a day I will accomplish things. Already I miss the little poot because I sure do like having him here, but when he is, I accomplish less than nothing. He is just a year old, discovering all kinds of new things and interested in climbing, throwing and breaking it all, hehehehe. He's very much like his dad in that way. My mom gets a kick out of telling him "He comes by it honest." It must be one of the perks of a mom's job when their kids are older. Kids may think they are good at it, but moms are the masters of the art of I told you so.

I've tried creating this blog at least half a dozen times over the last few days and each time I get started someone closes out my window while I'm away from the computer and POOF! I've not been blog lucky recently. I've had to delete my original blog because it just stopped updating and no amount of trying or reading "help" articles was helping so I gave up. At some point in time I may place my posts from my first blog here, but for tonight I'm just interested in getting it started.

Starting is such a difficult thing for me. I think it's why I don't write more than I do...because to write, I have to start and starting is just hard. I need a first line to get me going but I'm not a writer of first lines. I need a lead in - my own personal Ed McMahon. I bet if I had one I could write much more. Hell, just writing at all would be a big step (and yes, I do realize that it is exactly what I'm doing now but I can NOT do it when I need to).

Where to start, let's see...Time and Tide...how about where that came from? Well, once upon a time (a well proven lead in) this week, I made some amazing discoveries while delving into the depths of profoundness with a new friend. She made a statement that set me to thinking, I mean really thinking. All my life I've understood the concept of the quote time and tide wait for no man. It's a fact they don't. Yet I spend a good part of my life bitching about my shortage of time. Now why does it make sense for me to do that? Not only is time not going to wait for me, it sure ain't going to change for me either. So what if I have too many things to fit into a day...that's my problem, not time's. Time just don't care. It isn't going to slow down so I have time to read a book. It's not going to stop so I can clean my whole house then start back up again so it can appear that I didn't have to make beds and scoop litterboxes or clip doggie toe nails.

So what do I do? I waste precious time complaining about the lack of it? Where *is* my head? And I want too much. That's right, I'm too demanding. I want to read and I want to spend time with my kids but I want my house to be the perfect place for my family to be so I spend hours and days and weeks on end remodeling, moving and changing around. What time does that allow me with the kids? NADDA! They don't give a crap if the laundry is done until they run out of clean drawers so why would I think it would matter to them that the house works well for us? Do I really think they believe they would get more time with me if the house was better organized so that it didn't take so much work to keep it clean? Where IS my head?

And while I'm on this track...what is it about me that makes me think all that needs to be done in order for things to work as they should. Why can't I just let them work as it is? Why do I feel the need for perfection first? I don't know. And at the end of all this revelation does it all boil down to me being my own worst enemy? Am I a hazzard to myself like that song says? Or maybe I've just got stuck in this mind set because the song is stuck in my head from hearing it so many times on that cd for sale commercial.

One thing I know for sure I am - scattered. Lately I have felt so disconnected from everything I love and care about. Not distant from my family, but distant from myself. It's as if I am too much. There are so many things I love doing and each of them take TIME and I end up running out of TIME to do half of them then I feel like I'm lost or missing out on something. So there you have it...Time and Tide. My journey to learning to cope with, and make the most of, the time I am afforded is what I'll be putting here. That is, of course, as long as I can find the time to sit here long enough to record it :)