NinjaMama

He Came to Town

2009-01-01T19:30:00.000-08:00

A week ago NT could only say, "Mama, Sata" (Santa). Now, he says, "Santa Cause!," several times a day. It's one of his clearer phrases. Besides the fact that I am now aware of the number of holiday Santas still on display, it just goes to show that where there is a will there is a way. Clearly, the man in red made a real impression with the lad on the big day, so he feels compelled to call him by his whole name. Who knows, he might wake up tomorrow shouting for Kris Kringle. At any rate, I feel compelled to add Mr. C to NT's top five most important (and therefore most clearly spoken) things:

1. baby

2. ketchup

3. tic-tac

4. mama/papa/Jasper

and now…

5. Santa Claus

Cutting it

2008-11-09T23:26:00.001-08:00

Today I was in the kitchen cutting up an apple for NT. The Honey was loading the dishwasher but had stepped away for a minute, leaving it open. NT started saying his favorite new phrase, "cutting it, cutting it, cutting it, mama." Without looking at him I said, "Yeah NT, I am cutting your apple." He kept at it, practically chanting. "Cutting it! Cut it!" I turned to give him his apple bits and there he was. He had two steak knives precariously pinched between the knuckles of his right hand, waving it in the air above his head. In his left hand he was gripping a paring knife. He was so happy just marching around the kitchen with his deadly dishwasher contraband. I don't know what is more remarkable, the way this kid puts himself into harms way, or that he hasn't been to the emergency room yet (knock on wood).

O-BAT-MA for Halloween, and for President

2008-10-30T21:17:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween. Here is a link to a full-page pdf of some Obama Halloween decor that I made today. I call it "ObatMa '08" Feel free to adorn your house and to vote accordingly. ;-)

Just My 'magination

2008-10-30T00:41:00.000-07:00

J is so into his imagination and dress-up these days. He usually starts his day as a pirate, tying any available scraps of fabric and/or scarves around his neck, body and waist. He has been wearing the pirate vest I made him for last Halloween, daily, for over a month now. He adds an assortment of belts and ropes, criss-crossing his torso and uses my hair elastics to hold his daggers onto them. By mid-afternoon he has morphed into, "The Army of the Undead," (Thank you Scooby Doo). He adds more fabric scraps, and wraps my cloth headbands around his ankles and wrists to become a, "moomy" (mummy). He takes his role as guardian of "Cleopatricka's" tomb very seriously. He can often be found standing very still against the wall, eyes closed, a blanket draped from his waist to the floor. At those times he is a statue or a yet to be awakened Army of the Undead. He will recruit NT to stand at attention on opposite sides of the entryway, swords meeting in the center - guarding the entrance to the coliseum. That is when they are Roman soldiers. He regularly wants me to watch him run around and around the living room, demonstrating his chasing prowess. "Want to watch me run like a pirate mom?" "See how I can jump over the snake pit like Indiana Jones?" "Look at my ninja moves!" Or, donning swim goggles, "Don't I look like a Lego Agent bad guy?"

If you ask, or even if you don't, but are willing to listen and listen he will tell you in intricate detail about his mission, who he is protecting, what the dangers are, and the underlying motives of all of the players. Generally speaking, the Army of the Undead doesn't hurt the bad guys. Rather, they prefer to scare them off. As J explained, "There is a danger that they need to protect the people, but they can't talk. They can only make scary sounds (he demonstrates the range here). So they don't want to hurt anyone, they just want to scare them off. Except for the really bad guys. They have to kill them." I am starting to realize that being an Army of the Undead in Cleopatricka's service isn't an easy calling.

My favorite thing about today though was at bedtime. We were looking at the Playmobil catalog together and Jasper pointed out this one small set that he really liked. It was a Playmobil kid and a bunch of kittens. Oh the depths of this boy. He is a treasure.

These Times They Are for Changin'

2008-09-30T00:20:00.000-07:00

What is it about certain movies? They get under your skin and make you want change. I think I am overly susceptible to the power of suggestion, but is that so bad? Tonight I watched Sex and the City, the movie. My apologies (and appreciation for the sentiment) if you were expecting something less shallow.

If you know me, it doesn't take you long to become familiar with my wardrobe of yoga pants, and black tee shirts. Or to discover that my beauty regimen involves taking a shower and toweling off. But I was inspired by this movie. The fashion, at times hideous, was mostly over-the-top fabulous. The hair, the makeup, the EFFORT – amazing.

There was a woman in front of me at the grocery store today with her panties showing. I'm not talking obscene, hoochie mama whale tail – just a little lace that peeked out for a second. Sigh. I want to be a girl that wears pretty lace panties. In my 20s I was that girl. Now I am a 100% cotton Hanes underwear girl (they're just too practical to call them panties).

Although, high fashion is well beyond my reach and interest (I could never spend that kind of money on shoes and bags), this NinjaMama is ready for the wind of change. Not sure which way it will blow through, but hold onto your hat.

It's debatable...

2008-09-26T21:06:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching the first of the Presidential debates and then pouring ice water over my head, to cool down. Actually, unlike the RNC, this didn't get me too riled up. In turns I found McCain to be laughable, impressive and a liar. I don't have it in me to break things down in their entirety but here is a recap regarding those impressions.

Laughable McCain: "I have a fundamental belief in the United States of America." Well, now THAT is an important topic! I wonder why the moderator didn't make it into one of his questions for the night. After all, are we sure that everyone involved here has a fundamental belief in our country? Puh-lease. In regard to McCain's obsession with pork barrel spending, I am relieved to know that he plans to cut out those big ticket expenses like the bear DNA study ($3 million), and enact a, "spending freeze"on everything except defense, veteran affairs and entitlement programs. After all, it's not like we are completely out of control on defense spending - sending 10 billion a month to Iraq. What we really need to do is get our $3 million back. Phew. Economic crisis solved. Thank heavens McCain has been in DC all week working so hard to push through the bailout. Clearly he has his finger on the pulse of the problem. Ha!

Impressive McCain: Hmm, what was it? Oh, right. I noticed that McCain had changed his tone in regards to the war in Iraq. He went from declaring that the troops will be coming home in "victory," to insisting the troops will come home, "not in defeat." I saw a faint glimmer of reality shining in that statement, and coming from McCain, that small concession was impressive.

Lying McCain: Actually, I was shocked and awed by the sheer number of times McCain outright lied during the debate. It's one thing to run misleading ads, or have your running mate make false claims in her RNC speech, but with fact checkers like this one from the Washington Post, it didn't really fly tonight. Maverick move, Johnny.

So, there it is. I am sure reader(s) of this blog - hi mom! - will be relieved when this election is over and I go back to writing about how tired I am, or how cute my boys are. Until then, nice job tonight Senator Obama. Can't wait to see Palin and Biden behind the podiums.

Waiting for a Reason

2008-09-16T23:03:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking about it for months, and I finally got my carpet shampooed. I feel really good about it. I should probably be disturbed (we lay on it every day) but there is something so satisfying about sucking up some seriously dirty water from the carpet. Clean now. Yay.

Before you go ahead and pat me on the back though, you should know that I only did it because J hurled his breakfast dead-center, and a foot wide on said carpet - leaving me no choice. Yep. We are experiencing the full spectacle of stomach flu, and all of its glories. Soiled laundry, extra baths, tired mama! At least when I collapse on the floor at the end of the day I know the carpet I am laying on is clean.

John Loves Sarah

2008-09-08T23:56:00.001-07:00

By now you have probably heard about the email from a Wasilla woman who knows Sarah Palin personally. I have a lot of strong feelings on this race, I have vented some of them here, but I still worry that we could end up with McCain/Palin. Here is an article from the NY Times that seems to me to sum up the whole situation.

Please, Not Again!

2008-09-03T23:28:00.000-07:00

The Republican National Convention is giving me high blood pressure. I probably shouldn't 'listen in,' but I want to know how they are pitching themselves, and what Obama is up against. Mostly, I am trying to understand why anyone would want to vote for John McCain. Is being a maverick, really a quality we want in our President? What irks me the most is how the Republicans offer vast promises and quippy comments in place of truth, and with complete disregard to their hypocrisy. After all, who cares what you believe in if making sh*t up can score you the votes?

For example, Carly Fiorina "knows John McCain" and claims he has a "longstanding commitment to our environment." Is that a reference to his commitment to destroy the Arctic Wildlife Preserve by drilling for oil? Obviously we shouldn't consider that the League of Conservation Voters gave McCain a big fat ZERO in 2007. Nevermind the pesky facts. Instead we have the highly entertaining Mitt Romney who warmed up the crowd with this, "And I have one more recommendation for energy conservation - let's keep Al Gore's private jet on the ground!" Oh, ha ha ha. Mitt was probably cracking himself up all the way back to his corporate (read: private) jet. What difference does it make anyway? According to Sarah Palin global warming isn't man-made. She must have missed science class in favor of one on creationism.

That's the other thing that really has me riled up. Sarah Palin for VP. It's such a blatant attempt to acquire the hard-core Hilary backers. Does the GOP really think that the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pantsuits will drop their ideals just because there is a woman on their ticket? The Repubs love to talk about Obama's inexperience (despite his 9 years of Senate service). Palin has been a Governor for less than 2 years. Before that she was the mayor of Wasilla, AK (pop. 9,870). Clearly she could run the country (pop. 301,139,947) if McCain keeled over. Sarah Palin for VP, a fine example of McCain's dazzling, maverick decision-making skills.

I could go on and on. Bottling it up just isn't healthy. Inevitably, I am talking back to the car radio and J is asking, "Mom, who are you talking to?" What else can be done though when you hear something as ridiculous as, "John McCain will bring our troops home with victory and with honor." Seriously people. Have some respect for yourselves, and try to squeeze a little reality into your spiel. There isn't going to be any victory. Just bring them home.

Is it too much to ask, even though it is the RNC and the height of political b.s., to just say what you want to do? I mean really SAY it. If it is so right, why do you need to sugar coat it and make it sound like something Hilary would say? We've been lied to, threatened, fear-struck and distracted for the last 8 years. I am so over it.

Shameless Self-Promotion

2008-08-29T14:57:00.000-07:00

Now for a grand effort in shameless self-promotion...

I just added "Subscribe to" at the bottom of this page. If you click on it you will be directed to choose topics of interest and your area. Then, with a swift click of your heels (okay, your mouse) Google makes a custom home page for you which includes a small box featuring my blog and showing the most recent titles of my postings. That way, you are up to date and won't miss one single, scintillating NinjaMama story. Note to self, try to add some scintillating stories soon.

That's it. Happy surfing.

If a Baby Screams in the Forest...

2008-08-29T13:58:00.001-07:00

Screaming is really the worst sound I can currently imagine. Not that I have to imagine it, since NT has chosen screaming as his primary method of communication. I say something highly charged like, "NT, would you like a yogurt?" NT replies with a high-pitched, ear-splitting scream. I would like to take that as, "No thank you, my supremely caring and thoughtful mommy" - but clearly that isn't the sentiment. Other scream-inducing events include leaving any activity that was remotely interesting - even if en route to another one. Getting help with a task, or (potentially worse) being asked if you would like help.

Me: "NT, can I open your popsicle for you?"

NT: "AHHHH! MAMA! AHHHHH!" Loosely translated that means, "Step off, bee-yatch, I am doing this myself! Can't you see that I am practically two years old!?" It goes on like that all day.

I am beginning to see a pattern in my life of how it takes extreme opposites to create the balance. From which mountaintop do I need to shout, "I GET IT!," so, that I can finally be relieved from learning this lesson? I know, I know. It doesn't work like that. If I really 'get it' then I just accept the marvelous duality of my existence and go skipping along. I'm not ready for the mountaintop yet, but venting has helped. I suppose the next time I boldly try to open Nate's car door for him and the obligatory scream occurs, I will sigh through slightly less gritted teeth and think, "Oh man, I love his independent spirit!" After all, sometimes it means he will play quietly by himself while I have my eardrums repaired.

Mama is more than a four letter word

2008-08-24T23:40:00.000-07:00

NT is a master of inflection. Speaking in sentences is not yet within his skill set, but he can manipulate vowels and volume like nobody's business. "Mama," for example, can convey the following:

1. "mah-muh" - I love you.

2. "Mama, MAma, MAMa, MAMA! MAMA!" - I need your attention NOW, lady!

3. "ma ma ma ma ma ma ma" - I am tired. Rock me, put me to bed.

4. "MAMA! MAMA!" - A big truck is passing us! or There is a digger within view.

5. "Mah-ma!" - My brother is hurting me and/or taking my toy.

There are at least 7 more subtle variations with explicit meanings. I can't think of what they are, but when I hear it I know. Kind of like 80's muzak in the grocery store. Suddenly there you are - "Shootin' at the walls of heartache, bang bang" in the cereal aisle, and you have to wonder, "How do I know the words?!"

Quesa Dilla, dude?

2008-08-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

Recently, while I work at my computer, I have been listening to This American Life. Yesterday, the episode "A Little Bit of Knowledge" had me laughing tears. It's really best if you listen to it yourself, but basically it is about how we all know just enough to be dangerous on most subjects, but we don't let it stop us from talking as experts. They call it Modern Jackass in the show, as if you had your own magazine and that is the name of it. In telling about it to the The Honey I got it mixed up and was calling it, "Jackass University." Clearly, I am a graduate.

What I found hilarious though, were stories about the misconceptions we form as kids that kind of live in us until one day we say them out loud and it becomes clear we are SO off base. Like the guy who believed into his 20s that quesadilla was Spanish for, "What's the deal?" Or the woman who thought unicorns were real. My personal experience is that I believed, "Hasta la bye bye" was Norwegian for goodbye. My dad used to say that when he left for work, and that is what he told us. I was a kid, I just believed him. Then one day I was talking to someone who spoke some Norwegian. I started to say, "I know how to say (goodbye), um... nevermind." Finally I realized how ridiculous that was. I was 26. J has so many things that he "fills in" for lack of understanding, I wonder how many will be left behind with four, and if any will survive to adulthood.

I'll Take That As A Yes.

2008-08-01T08:40:00.001-07:00

We road-tripped to Canon Beach and spent 5 days with toes in the sand. The boys played hard (without a Lego in sight) and slept hard - some days past 7:30! Small miracles abound. I ran into claire and me on the sidewalk (we were both surprised!). One day at lunch, Jasper was polling everyone about their faves. NT was playing with the restaurant fork, hoping I wouldn't confiscate the goods. It should be noted he only has 20 words and 20 signs and "yes" is not among them. Tic-tac, pop-pop (popsicle) and Cora (friend's dog) are a few, if that gives you any insight into what matters. Alright, enough with the scene-setting. It went down like this.

J: My favorite color is green and so is mama's. Papa's is blue. I also like orange, then lellow, then red. Oh, and brown and black too. Is blue your favorite color NT?

no response

J: I'll take that as a yes.

Seriously, where do they get their material? I am still cracking up.

That's Not My Subaru

2008-07-17T19:22:00.000-07:00

For the most part I am detailed-oriented. In my work I basically get paid to organize information. I do lots of i-dotting and t-crossing, color-choosing and contrasting, spell-checking and kerning. I look at things closely and from a good distance and think about all of the small parts and how they make up the whole. I proofread with a vengeance because nothing bugs me more than missing a typo or finding a double space hanging out where there should only be a single one. I like to sweat the small stuff.

Of course, who could stand to be that detail-oriented all of the time!? There has to be a yang to that yin. For me, it is driving, parking and where the hell did I put my keys?! When I am running errands, I often switch to automatic pilot, miss my turn and have to re-route myself the long way. My husband always knows the fastest route to anywhere - I always get there too, but not first. Same when I park my car. I never pay attention to where I leave it. On more than one occasion I have believed my car stolen, only to discover it parked right where I had forgotten it. Once, back in my Toyota Camry days, I got into another person's Camry that was parked right next to mine. Same color, same car. I had my key in the ignition and was putting on my seatbelt, all of the while slowly realizing... I don't remember the car being so clean. Where did that hand lotion come from? ... something was amiss. Oops.

There are a lot of Subaru's in this town. In order to be able to pick mine out of a crowded Costco parking lot, I put a bright green bumper sticker on the back. Now, I can usually spot it as I walk aimlessly in the general direction of where I may have parked. Along the way I find myself muttering, "That's not my Subaru, that's not my Subaru, that's not my Subaru..."

Haven't We Met Before?

2008-07-05T15:58:00.000-07:00

Last night we went to a friend's Fourth of July shindig. I mostly followed the boys around and made small talk, but it was fun. I had another of my recurring experiences where someone I don't know says that I, "look familiar" or asks if I, "have a sister?" I must have a familiar face - could've been a secret agent.

This has happened to me often enough that I know when a guy says to me, "Have we met before?," it isn't an attempt to pick me up, but a genuine inquiry.

I have seriously considered tracking down my twins. You never really know how you appear to other people, which is a thought I find intriguing. In some ways, the people closest to you don't really see you anymore, although they may know you best. Meeting my look-a-likes would surely give me a peek into the outside perception, and nothing engages me like getting a glimpse of the world through other peoples eyes, even if it is a glimpse of myself.

A waitress told me she has a friend in Alaska that, "looks just like me, and even has (my) mannerisms!" Another woman once said that I look, "just like the bartender at (her business in town)." Last night this guy Paul had a feeling we had met before, but we didn't have any overlapping history or territory we could uncover in 3 minutes of polite small talk. He thought I had a booth at the Farmer's Market, but I told him it was probably my friend - people often think we are sisters.

Later, The Honey and I were sitting with the boys watching fireworks when Paul and his girlfriend left the party on their bikes. He stopped and said, "Is that your tandem with the bike trailer in back?" We answered yes, and he said, "That's where I have seen you before." Might it have been last weekend when we were biking down the street chanting with J, "We're movin', We're shakin', We sizzle like bacon!?" Yes, we really did that - not exactly sure how it came about.

So, now I guess I won't assume that I look like everyone and their sister. It might be that our family bike caravan is what's familiar. Just like the kooky characters I used to see in downtown Olympia "Jewelry-Man" and "Mt. Rainier Explosion/End of the World Man". Hmm. I am not sure which I prefer - having a common face that everyone thinks they know, or being that mom on the bicycle built for four.

There is no J in Pool.

2008-07-02T14:57:00.001-07:00

This week I am coming to terms with the fact that swimming lessons is chock full of "growth opportunities" for me as a parent. Be that as it may, thus far I am not growing. My attempts at bribery, my idle threats, my disappointment, my gentle lectures - all of it means zip, zilch, nada, nothing and is getting that result.

You would think that the pool was filled with acid rain runoff. On our first day J hid, pouted and whined before saying he wanted me to "put him in." When I tried, he somehow managed to lift the entire bottom half of his body parallel to his shoulders and then wrap his legs around mine like a vise. Then came the yelling and the tears - his, although I was close. It was quite a scene, and while I am more than happy to provide entertainment ("The Amazing Contortions of the Boy Who Won't Swim") to all of the families of happily splashing children, I briefly considered tossing him into the deep end and driving home.

NT, my little water boy, has also been slow to warm up to the vast expanse of the pool and the strangers who are his teachers. Yesterday, while his $13, 30-minute swim lesson ticked by, he sat poolside on my lap. He was enthralled though, by the rubber "cack cack" (duck) and finally, he went for it. Then, his toe touched the three-inch deep waters of the first stair and in one movement his whole body retracted and turned and he was back in my lap.

I have a few "beefs" with the teachers. From the beginning it was clear that there was one good one. She was easy to spot because she always had a cryer in her arms. She would get them settled and be handed another one. There are two good ones now, but the other two are hopeless. Good Teacher A even mouthed, "Engage them!" to the slackers today, but they were lost in space and didn't notice. I am sure part of my frustration lies in the fact that I used to do this same job, and I was good at it. I took pride in figuring out how to get the scared little Pollywogs (that was our beginner class) excited about and comfortable in the water. We had lesson plans, we got them wet and we used a zone defense to keep the water fear tears from spreading to the group. These lessons are not like that. At all.

Sigh. I will write a letter to the manager. I will uncover a new level of patience. I will not push them to play out the happy picture of swimming lessons I had imagined. I will grow. Just for today though, I will cling to my fantasy of lounging poolside while my kids happily bob and bubble, crawl-stroke and back-float. They would emerge tired and float-worthy, I would wrap them in rainbow colored towels, feed them a snack and take us all home for naps. Sigh. Why does parenthood always have to be so REAL, when the fantasy is often so much better?

Only 24 Little Hours

2008-06-25T19:21:00.000-07:00

There is always more that I would like to do in a day, than there are hours (or energy) to do it. Adding one baby to a busy life full of projects and work, family and friends was a juggling act. With the addition of another kidlet it is a full-blown circus around here. NT is almost two, so this isn't a new phenomenon. The circus has been in town for awhile. Still, I haven't really surrendered to this reality. There's an elephant in the room, and I just vacuum around it.

The boys demand so much from me - meals, play, snuggles, conversation, mediation. Meanwhile, they leave Legos, stuffed animals and Hot Wheel cars in their wake as they plow through the day (and the house). I cram in an hour at lunch for the gym (The Honey comes home, I tag him and go). I pack a few hours of design work in at night after the boys are in bed. During the day I clean, do dishes, laundry, grocery shop, plan meals or let it all go to hell and try to get a nap while NT takes his. We have fun, I love being with them. I love my work, love making my own money. What I can't seem to ignore is the siren call of leisure time. I crave it. Not just for an hour here and there. I want weeks! months! a year sabbatical. I want to watch "R" movies in the middle of the afternoon, and bad reality television. I want to read and read and read. I want to get my pictures into photo albums, my beads into wearable jewelry. I want to sew and felt and knit and nap. I want to get my kiln out of storage, paint, and take some classes. I want the free time I imagine I had before kids AND I want the rest of my life as it is now.

I know that is unreasonable and impossible. Logically I know it. On the other hand, denial flows through me, and I continue to push the hours of the day until, inevitably, it is 2am again. Last week I came down with strep throat. The kids didn't get it, The Honey stayed healthy. I know it got me because I was so run down. As I laid in bed so impossibly sick I told myself, "You have to take better care of yourself," and I thought that maybe, finally, I got it. I had hit my rock bottom.

Or maybe not. Fast forward to this week and I am playing catch up with my workload, the laundry, the grocery shopping. All of that would be manageable if I just did it and went to bed. Instead I am wrapped up in a great book, watching stupid reality television and searching craigslist. The elephant in the room is looking for somewhere to lie down. It is clear that something has to give in my long list of to do's and want to do's, and sleep can't be it.

Back by Popular Demand

2008-06-22T23:08:00.001-07:00

Have been thinking of returning from my blog hiatus. I have a carefully screened and selected group of friends who have been chosen for their generosity of spirit and willingness to say really nice stuff to me, like, "I wish you hadn't stopped, I really loved your blog!" and "You are such a good writer." So, thank you all for your awesome support! You may now collect your paychecks from my mother and if you still feel like it, check in on occasion, 'cause I plan to start writing my random thoughts here once again. xo ninjamama

Bye bye blog-ville

2008-04-20T22:01:00.001-07:00

New news: I am done with blogging. It's been fun. I have really enjoyed the feedback from the handful of people I know who read my posts. Turns out though, I am getting too "into" my computer world, and I need to have fewer things pulling me towards my monitor (and away from my real life). I want to draw more, and read more from the stack of books in my room, and I could probably stand to fold the laundry a little more often. Since my last post was in crisis mode, I thought I would end with this happier moment from today.

So TIRED this afternoon, which I only mention because I assume (hope) that everyone isn't operating like that. I am sure the day will return when I don't have to give up sleep hours for free time, or work time, or a moment of quiet - but for now that is my life.

It was COLD outside, but the house was warm, and there was a little square of sunshine on the carpet. I had laundrydishesworkpainting nothing to do, so I laid there for a bit while the boys played all around me, and on top of me. J brought me a blanket for a "comfy pillow." Love that kid. I drifted in and out of consciousness and soaked in some much needed Vitamin D. The Honey came home and pretty soon he was lying next to me in that little sunshine square. J, never one to miss out on a group snuggle, wedged in between us. Nator played around us, then would appear suddenly, putting his face a half inch from ours with a big, drooly smile. It wasn't really peaceful. Too much fidgeting for that, and you could never be sure when Nator was going to "show" you his toy by whacking you between the eyes with it. But it was a bit like my heaven - some sunshine, a nap, and all my honeys within snuggle distance.

Thanks for reading and commenting. Love to you all and your fams. xo NinjaMama

Number Two = Poo

2008-04-15T00:13:00.001-07:00

I was changing the sheets today while the boys played on the bed. Not a single safety warning sounding off in my brain, and then NT fell off the bed. One second he was standing and then boom, thunk. He fell off backwards and hit his head on the baseboard heater. Owwwww. I picked him up and he had that terrible cry where the facial expressions are all distorted, but no sound comes out. I had to calm him down just to get him to nurse. There's more. Yesterday at the furniture store he slipped from the couch he was sitting on and hit his forehead on the corner of a table. Instant goose-egg, and now there are two. Front and back. And more. Earlier in the day I peeked in at the boys in the tent (thinking they were playing nicely) and there was J, whacking NT with the foam sword. NT didn't even cry out, just had his head down to take it. J is alternately rough and loving with him. It doesn't matter to NT, he just wants to be near his brother, sword bashing and all. But, he's a baby! My soft little baby.

I have let him down. I honestly forget sometimes that he is only 18 months, and as such, NOT as balance-savvy or vocal as the resident 4-year old. We work on big bro to be gentle, but it's a long day full of interactions. I remember the fall-down stage with J, where it seemed that he had a perpetual lump on his head, or fat lip. But I also have this residual feeling, okay let's just call it what it is - I have this residual guilt, that J got more from us. More from ME, and I probably took better care of him. I know what you will say. Things are just different with the second child. Really they are better off because they aren't the center of your world. Ugh. Maybe. I hope so? What I do know is that I feel pretty crappy about it all.

The good news: spring break is finally over. Tomorrow NT and I will have 3 hours mano-a-mama. I think I can probably keep him from hitting his head, I am just not sure that that is enough.

Bubblewrap

2008-04-08T22:20:00.000-07:00

A friend sent me this link today.

Something about popping bubble wrap is SO satisfying.

Be sure to try it in the "Manic Mode".

Maybe I can use this as my stress-reducer in lieu of chocolate.

I can see it now, "Wow! You look great, how did you do it?"

Me: "I popped bubblewrap in cyberspace, the pounds just came off."

Keep your eyes out for my diet book, "How I lost 30 pounds with bubblewrap."

Just another day in the newsroom

2008-04-07T14:21:00.000-07:00

As soon as I get into the shower, we are like our own News Team around here.

NT is the broadcaster. "WAHHHH!!!"

I am the investigative reporter (head sudsy with shampoo). "What is going on out there?"

J is the on-the-scene reporter. "He tried to take my Lego ship."

Here I make a plea for "just 5 minutes" of fraternal harmony, so that the investigative reporter can rinse the soap out of her eyes.

Then we load up the stroller and head to a local park, always on the lookout for a good story.

Yes, Jesus is dead

2008-04-06T22:10:00.001-07:00

Saturday J and I hit the town to get a present for an upcoming birthday party. He combed the aisles of the toystore, taking it all in and came across an "action figure" of Jesus.

J: "Mom, who is this guy?"

Me: "It's Jesus."

J: "Who is Jesus?"

Faithful blog readers, or anyone who has known me for over a week, knows that I am not highly religious. So it follows that my son had yet to make the acquaintance. Despite all of that, having our state of religious affairs broadcasted to the entire store (and the overtly Christian proprietor standing nearby), just two weeks after Easter, caught me up for a moment. I couldn't hold in the smile, though. It was funniest question I had been asked all week.

Me: "Um, Jesus was a really great teacher, who lived a LONG time ago, and he was such a great teacher, and such a nice man that people today still talk about him, and try to be like him." (good one - pause to pat myself on the back for this explanation), and...

J: "But he's DEAD now, right?"

Me: "Yeah, he lived a long time ago..."

J: "And he's dead now."

Me: "Yes, he's dead."

J: "Yeah, Jesus is dead. Mom, come look at this!"

Four is really turning out to be an age of wonders. Lately J is most interested in whether things are alive or dead, which things are inanimate, and therefore can't grow (like rocks), and how creatures protect themselves. This last one is especially popular, and makes up a good part of our daily conversation. For instance, did you know:

Slugs: Ooze slime

Giraffes: Kick to fight off lions

and

Fire, although inanimate "looks kind of alive", and can burn you?

Now we have added to our wealth of knowledge - Jesus is dead.

God bless him.

The Tragically Un-Hip

2008-03-31T20:58:00.000-07:00

On Saturday I was at the bookstore picking up a new read, and the 20-something saleskid was wearing a t-shirt that said, "Mindless Self-Indulgence." That made me smile, so I said to him, "I love mindless self-indulgence." He looked up in surprise.

He: "You do?"

Me: "Yah!"

He: "Cool. They do put on a good show, but I went to see them and I was the oldest guy there."

Me: Blank stare. (Oh. Duh. Note to Self: Mindless Self-Indulgence; NOT personal creed; IS teenage rock band.)

I don't come clean. I say something lame like, "...ha, well it's good to embrace your inner teenager," (good one, ha!) and slip out of the store.

Tonight I checked out the band on iTunes. As suspected, not for me. Although they are kind of funny, in an offensive way. Maybe I would have liked them in high school - on cassette tape. Let's face it. I am old and I just don't like to listen to that much noise. Besides, I much prefer intentional self-indulgence. So far that isn't the name of a punk band, but I might make it a t-shirt.

What teenage punks are talking about

2008-03-27T22:05:00.000-07:00

I took the boys out for a walk today to snack mecca. We didn't really need anything other than an excuse to put some miles on the double stroller, and the promise of a snack for the boys on the return journey.

As we walked home we passed two teenage boys. They were decked out in the 80s punk style that is resurfacing - pegged jeans, lots of black (including the over-dyed hair), anarchy symbols. I overheard some of their conversation - and thought you might be interested to know what is on the minds and in the hearts of today's teen counter-culture. Well, here you go:

"... a big tortilla with beans," said the tall, beanpole punk.

"...and rice," added the short, twiggy punk.

They strolled past, oblivious to us, smiling into their dream of the next meal. I am still cracking up. Is it possible that an anarchist revolution has been thwarted by a craving for Mexican food? I guess there is just no denying the caloric needs and subsequent priorities of the teenage boy.

Deep Thoughts by NinjaMama

2008-03-24T15:41:00.000-07:00

Since a week ago Friday I have been giving lot of thought to how I view fate, the way of things and God. By a "lot of thought", I mean that I had a good talk with myself about it in the car two consecutive Saturdays. I used to worry that I looked like a crazy person, talking to myself in the car. Now I figure that anyone who notices will think I am:

a) talking to the kids, or if they aren't present

b) using a hands free cell phone device, or

c) crazy, but legitimately so after having two children.

All of this deep thought was brought on by our March book group discussion. Since I mostly rely on this blog to process the limited contents of my brain (thus sparing my husband some of my rants) - I feel compelled to go on about this at length. You might want to skip it if you don't care to read my personal theology.

First of all, I do believe in a higher power - you can call it God if you want to. Basically, some force of nature that started all of these wild chain reactions. I am pretty sure that we are on our own down here - no specific, detailed plans from God for anyone. Humans are too much like bacteria on ants, in the grand scale of the universe, for that much attention. The only anybody with a plan for me, is J. "Mom, when we get home YOU will help me find my Lego lasers, put on my movie and then make me a hot cocoa, right?"

I had a hard time letting go of the idea of fate. It appeals to my romantic nature to think that despite any choices we made, and the direction our lives took, somehow The Honey and I were meant to be together. We did benefit from coincidence, which was probably part of that gut feeling that informs your best decisions. Honestly, the more I let go of the possibility of fate the luckier I feel to have ended up in this life with The Honey. So, no to fate. Yes to luck and coincidence.

A sticky point is often, "...but why do bad things happen to good people?" I have never been able to buy into the idea of a Big Brother God just waiting for a reason to throw some lightning at your head. Equally unlikely to me is God filling his quotas for human suffering or doling out ultimate tests of faith to pass the milennia. It's all too Greek mythology. I think bad things happen because we are bumping around here in the imperfect experiment of humanity. Accidents happen, gravity pulls things down on top of you, the surface of the earth is on the move, people can be ruthless and biology can run amuck.

As far as my own little human existence; I worry with the best of them, pray for the health and safety of my loved ones, and try to keep us out of harms way. I do believe in the power of prayer and positive thinking/focused energy, but I don't think its God retrieving those messages. Maybe it doesn't do anything except make me feel better. Who cares, that's the point anyway.

Last spring, a friend from college was killed in an avalanche while climbing. One of those guys that you liked instantly, and then for the rest of your life - A was an upbeat, generous, hilarious, adventurer. He was genuine. He could call you on your baloney in a way that made you thankful. Losing him accidentally was hard. With death you always want there to be a good reason. Some explanation that will make it easier to give someone up, when you'd rather just hear their voice, get coffee together. "God needed him more than me", or "It was his time". I just don't believe that. It sucks, but it also brings clarity. This life, right now, is WHAT WE HAVE. Don't close yourself off living for the vision of a promised land, live now.

"With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy." Amen to that.

Book Club Therapy

2008-03-22T01:42:00.000-07:00

It's almost 2am and I am typing away in a post book club "high". We meet monthly, and holy guacamole Batman, I love those women. In the past three years we have read some good books and a few bad ones, but the stories that stick with me the most are our own. Without girlfriends to share laughter, frustrations and fears I am afraid I would have to resign my post as wife, mama, ninja and move to a dark and quiet cave . I recently took a quiz, "Which Beatles Song Are You?"

Mine: " I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends." Thanks ladies.

Bald Eagle Dropoff

2008-03-20T22:12:00.000-07:00

Today we made the rounds. Casting off our unused/gently used goods to locales where they can be put to better use. I am a bit of a purger (which I must admit, goes hand in hand with my consumer habit). After I discovered the glory that is craigslist, The Honey expressed concern that one day he would return to a house empty of all material goods, and me with my $200 dollars in small bills. "I made some great sales today, honey!"

The Food Bank benefitted mildly from the recent kitchen remodel. I decided to give away most of the canned goods rather than try to find a place to store them. I also passed off the kipper snacks, purchased with good intent but with no intention to actually eat them. I hope some hungry family can make use of the excess boxed Jello, Parmesan Cheese, corn, etc. that were in my bag o' donations. It occurs to me that my contribution on its own would make a fairly terrifying meal.

The Goodwill drive thru drop off is a stretch of parking lot and a couple of dumpsters. The best part, aside from clearing my clutter, was the bald eagle that was swooping down from an evergreen in the nearby ravine and perching on the streetlight. I love living in a town where you can spot a bald eagle at the Goodwill drop off.

Last stop: the consignment store, and the circle was complete. I used my $23 credit to buy some stuff for the boys. The Subaru hatchback is practically vacant again, and I feel good.

It's ME your BEST FRIEND!

2008-03-18T22:51:00.001-07:00

When we arrive at preschool and J sees a friend he runs right up to them and waves his arms. He will say, "(Insert friend name here) it's me! J! Your best friend," as if he suspects his friend to be suffering from amnesia.

He repeats this greeting two or three times. If he doesn't get a response, he will persist. Following and re-inserting himself in front of the best friend until he gets a hello. It's the same routine for Carter, John, Miles, Tucker, Luke, the buddy du jour. Some of the friends embrace him, others seem bewildered by the intensity and remain cool. The vulnerability of it all just breaks my heart. At the same time, I feel so proud of him for so boldly putting himself out there.

My friend R advises, "Let your freak flag fly." It has taken me 34 years and counting to get comfortable with that, and not second guess the results. J is a natural. Most kids are. My hope is that I can give him the support he needs to keep at it. The wind beneath his... freak flag, or something like that. In preschool, in middle school (the true test), in love – I hope that he will always be truly, uniquely himself. So far, it has been pretty amazing to watch who that is.

Time for Arrest

2008-03-13T01:28:00.001-07:00

J with his legos today:

"Mama watch! The bad guy crashes, then the police get him in their handcuffs and put him in jail for arrest." (a rest). I love how kids make sense out of the world.

J is having a LOT of fun lately with his own made-up language. The only problem is he seems to really like the "F" words. His favorite made-up exclamations - Fut! Fock! Faruck! He called NT a "Faruck". I am at a loss as to the best way to handle this - I don't want to introduce the "F" word in order to teach him not to use it!

I tried redirecting him. My inspiration was to teach him pig latin. I quickly realized the concept is too complicated for four. So I tried to explain that, and I said, "Never mind honey, we will do it another time. I think mama just jumped the gun with the pig latin." I realized as I was saying it, how I was basically talking in code. J heard me say, "something, something, GUN... pig latin." He had no idea what I was talking about (the previous five minutes of "ama-may oves-lay ou-yay" had left him spinning), but somehow a "gun" was related to this "pig thing", and he wanted it! Sometimes I really just need to shut my mouth. Oh, Faruck!

Cute Boys

2008-03-09T23:46:00.001-07:00

The boys are just so damn cute. The Honey and I exchange these looks all day long, like, "Can you believe what he just said/did?!" Usually we are trying not to laugh, they take their play seriously.

J has more energy than can be contained in 35 pounds of person. He is every superhero he's ever seen, and then some. He can become invisible, shoot ice out of his hands, run so fast he's a blur, fly (with the aid of rocket boots), use his super strength, shoot webs from his hands, shoot bullets and lasers out of his rocket boots - or maybe his knees, transform and fight like a ninja or a pirate. My car is the Batmobile, the Ninja Turtle Van, a rocket, a superhero car, and a boat that can be a submarine or a jet plane, depending on the job at hand.

Today, we were walking home from the grocery and he told me that the blue reflectors in the street were bombs, set to go off. Then, in case I was truly worried - "I am just pretending, okay mom?" Phew! Just when I was about to put on my body armor. He cracks me up, that kid.

NT is busy, busy, all of the time, non-stop, until he falls asleep. Even as I am rocking him at night he is squirming to get down. He points to the door and grunts (I want to go back out there! I have more to do!). He loves to draw. Nothing makes him happier than a fistful of big, fat crayons. And being outside. And imitating J. And eating blueberries. And getting his hands on some sword/weapon that J has built (he does a happy dance around the living room waving it around). Today he watched J run circles around the living room shouting out his super powers. NT immediately abandoned his milk and joined in. Laughing and running and making big noise. My little sword-building, weapon-wielding superheroes. That might sound scary, but really it is so damn cute!

The Life and Times of Being Four

2008-03-06T21:05:00.001-08:00

A couple of days ago J made a study of pushing boundaries, all day long. I surprised myself by patiently enforcing the rules over and over again, and not getting mad. At one point he got sent to his room for some time to think, and he was up there just fuming. Saying, "I HATE her!" over and over. Two guesses who, "her" is.

It's such a funny thing. I remember being that angry (over what, I don't remember) so clearly. I can see the grain of my bedroom door I was sitting right up against and feel the texture of the carpet. I remember hoping that she heard me say it. I felt for him, it's hard to know what to do with all of those feelings sometimes. I know it isn't true (as it wasn't for me), and I am glad to have that memory to aid my perspective.

Twenty minutes later he yells downstairs, "Mom, I am ready to come downstairs now and be nice to you and NT." Then he inevitably, 'needs a hug'. Who doesn't?!

Later he "helped" me make dinner and in the middle of that he looked at me so intently and said, "Mama, I love you." I already knew that, but it sure was nice to hear.

Planned Parenthood I support you

2008-03-06T18:25:00.001-08:00

First of all, sorry there to any of you who may occasionally read this blog. I took a hiatus. Have thought about writing here, but have been using my energies elsewhere (going to bed early, if you must know my guilty pleasure). Now, I am back.

Today, I drove by again. They stand right out on the corner with their signs and slogans. Right there, on my morning route. Their views make me shudder, the signs make me roll my eyes, and I feel incensed. Sometimes I feel overtly patient, as if they were little children. With so much to learn, how can you blame them for their immature viewpoint, and actions?

The signs are so ridiculous, I mumble counter-arguments to myself in the car. "Pray to End Abortion." Seriously? Wouldn't prayer (not to mention time) be better spent on single mothers raising babies with few resources? Or on education and opportunities for women the world over? Ugh! "Women Deserve More Than Abortion." Yes, exactly! Women deserve the right to make their OWN CHOICES about their bodies, their lives, and if they want to have a child. They deserve support - if they decide to continue an unwanted pregnancy AND if they choose not to. Applause, a parade in their honor - if they are willing to go through a pregnancy, a delivery and give a child they can't support, up for adoption . I don't imagine that many take those choices lightly. Don't even get me started on the superhero that is the single parent! What women don't need are ill-informed picketers with stupid signage - "Doesn't Everyone Deserve a Birthday?" (this one was being held by a nine year old boy). Too grossly ridiculous for a comment.

I know this is a touchy subject. Who doesn't revel in the miracle of life that is a baby? I don't take it lightly. I have dear friends who have been through every kind of heartbreak in order to have a child, and others who have benefitted from someone who made the choice to have the baby and give it up to them. A wayward cousin has made two families happy recipients of little lives. Her third child, however, she attempted to keep and his story isn't as happy. I can appreciate the idealized notion that all pregnancies will end in healthy, vibrant little wonders who are lovingly raised. In the real world there is "morning" (all day) sickness, pregnancy induced migraines, hormonal swings, back labor, feedings around the clock, colic, almost three year olds, tantrums and demands on your patience and spirit that continue to surprise this mom of two. I have been blessed to be pregnant twice. I wanted these little people more than I can describe, and even so, there were hours (about 22 consecutive ones during labor) where I did NOT want to be pregnant. My point is, you really shouldn't go on that journey if you don't want to. Certainly, you shouldn't be forced to.

In my view, we all have our own circumstances. Some people have resources of strength and intention that can turn any challenge into a triumph. Some people have circumstances beyond their control, or lapses in judgement, and how they resolve the consequences is theirs to live with and should be theirs to decide. Pro-Life is such a misnomer. In my view, it seems to be a dogma of Pro-Population, and what happens in the lives of those who must be born doesn't seem to concern many who hold the conviction. Let's just trust each other, as women, that we will make the best choice under the circumstances.

Tomorrow we will drive by Planned Parenthood again. They will still be there. Apparently, it's a 40-Day Prayer and Fasting marathon. Hopefully I will be able to just drive on by, feathers unruffled, and 'smile'. Not because (as another sign reads) my mother chose to have me - but because she did have a choice.

Chocolate happens, and shit

2008-02-12T19:52:00.000-08:00

I started a new low-calorie meal plan of my own design this week. Yesterday to be specific. Did great! Had a great day, felt good, felt full, kept the calorie count down. Add to that my boot camp workout, a walk with the fam, some general housekeeping and it was a good day for calorie burning. I could just picture those little suckers vaporizing.

Today, I also did really well. As long as you conveniently forget to count the ** (I am not even going to admit to the actual number here) Lindor Truffle balls I ate today. See, I fooled myself into thinking that I would have just "2 a day" as the treat part of my new plan. However, there are stressful moments, everybody needs me for something, I am perpetually tired and there are these feisty hormones that Aunt Flo always packs in her carry on bag when she visits, once a month. She arrived yesterday. Bee-atch.

The oddest (and best) thing about it is that I am not beating myself up about it, at all. "Whatever," seems to be my central sentiment. I am content to let this one go - sans guilt. Tomorrow is a new day, a boot camp workout awaits me at 7am, and all of the chocolate has been consumed from the premises. Burn baby burn.

YES WE CAN

2008-02-11T21:54:00.000-08:00

Check out this link for the YES WE CAN video

This gives me chills and brings tears to my eyes, no matter

how many times I watch it (um... going on 50+). How lucky would we

be in this country, to have a good President for awhile? Yes, we can.

NT's Top Ten

2008-02-11T20:48:00.000-08:00

Today I was noticing how little things just make NT SO happy.

Here are ten.

10. Turning the light switch on and off .

9. Spelunking in the closet.

8. Getting your cheeks kissed.

7. Looking at your tummy, putting finger in your bellybutton.

6. Any attention AT ALL from your brother.

5. Seeing the kitty.

4. Lids.

3. Using any object like a phone and "talking" on it

2. Realizing mama is going to let you nurse.

1. Walking (instead of riding in the cart) at the grocery store.

Tomorrow I am going to work on bringing the joy of simple things back into my own days. How great it would be to find happiness just looking at my tummy (it has been a long time since I have felt anything positive about my tummy). I turn lights on and off all day, who knew how delightful that was?! I am a step ahead already, the cheek kissing thing is good.

He wasn't technically "missing"

2008-02-08T14:28:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I know that I am too helpful. The kind of helpful that is really more interference or aiding and abetting. Like the time I helped a shoplifter in the parking lot of the grocery store. This guys comes up to me and asks if I have a plastic bag. I did. He thanks me, then proceeds to walk over to the bushes and fill it with a stash of stolen groceries... oops! figured that one out too late. No wonder the prices at that store were so high.

Then, there was today. The boys and I were finally feeling like we could get off the couch and back out in the world, cold and rainy as it is. I took us all to the mall. We shopped at Target, looked at the toys, got J a haircut, had lunch at the food court and stopped to play on the "cars" on our way out.

Two minutes in, a little boy comes running up from the direction of the play area. He was by himself - no parents behind him, none in sight. At first I just assumed that his mom or dad must be grabbing a younger sibling, or they were going to look up in a panic from the play area when they realized he was missing. I let the boys play and kind of kept an eye out. After a few minutes I went over to him and asked him if he knew where his mom was, or if his mom knew where he was. He said, "No," but he was only 2-ish, so not the most reliable source. Still no parents. Craning my neck to see over into the play area, no one seemed alarmed, although at that distance it is hard to tell. So, here I am watching three kids and trying to figure out what to do about this "lost" little boy. After about 10 minutes we had to go, but I couldn't just walk away and leave this boy unattended.

I grabbed my kids and went into the closest store to report it. As I came back, he was wandering off again, so I took his hand and directed him back to the cars. The saleslady said she could call security, but I felt sure that one of the parents from the play area must be missing this kid, so I said, "Great, but first I'll just check with the parents in the play area." And that is what I did. I went around the circle (NT in my arms, pushing J in the stroller) asking each parent if they were, "missing a little boy in an orange shirt." Each parent looked at me kind of shocked and said, "No." So, I walked back and the lady called security, and said she would wait with the boy. We left. It had been about 15 minutes. At some point in the next 5 minutes, security showed up.

When we got home, NT went down for his nap, J got a movie. I couldn't get the kid out of my mind, so I called the store. Here's the kicker. The woman at the store told me that this little boy's mom was IN the play area. The saleslady said that she saw me ask this mom if she was missing a kid, but (and I quote) "technically she knew where he was, so she said she wasn't actually missing him."

Now, I know we all have different levels of safety and comfort zones. I can think of plenty of times that people have commented on my parenting choices (that's a whole other story). I would like to give this mom the benefit of the doubt and assume that she was probably exhausted and not on her game today. Maybe in her mind, the world is so safe that she doesn't need to have her 2-year old son in sight, or even within 200 yards in a public place. Maybe she has never seen America's Most Wanted, or heard of an Amber Alert. Or maybe I was too "helpful" today and should have just let it be? Hmm. Nope, the more I think about it, I am glad I interfered.

Aristotle Explains It All

2008-02-05T21:17:00.001-08:00

The tag on my tea bag tonight imparts this wisdom - "All human actions have one or more of these seven causes: chance, nature, compulsion, habit, reason, passion, and desire." - Aristotle

Well, thanks a bunch Aristotle - now you tell me. Now I finally understand why it is so hard to resist the chocolate chips that are calling my name from the cupboard. In the course of a day I may chance upon them, feel the compulsion (it's in my nature), feed the habit, come up with a reason, have a passionate craving and fill the desire.

Today though, I resisted all seven saboteurs. Hooray for me, now I just need to keep up the good work for the REST OF MY LIFE, and maybe I can get back into my regular jeans. Yah, sure, no problem.

Don't want to Jinx it...

2008-02-03T23:07:00.001-08:00

dare i say it, or even type it?

Since my last posting, NT has slept through the night. That is two nights in a row! Half again his 'life to date' total. I am talking eleven straight hours of sleeping baby! Even though we all have this hideous cold (cough, ache, whimper), he sleeps! I am giddy with the possibility that I can go to bed now and sleep all the way through until 6:30. Thank you baby Jesus!, and baby N.

A New Level of TIRED!

2008-02-01T16:05:00.000-08:00

I think that I may have reached the final tier of tiredness. The last conscious pitstop before you literally fall asleep on your feet or become a zombie. It's partly my own fault, and partly the trappings of my life.

NT is 16 months old, and has only slept through the night (7:30pm-6:00am) maybe 5 times. I think that is a generous estimate. He's not a fussy baby. He has suffered at the hands of the petri dish we call preschool (J's), and been sick on and off again since September. Add to that the glacially slow movement of mega molars poking through his tender gums (making them bleed!), and I can stir up some empathy. For the last month he has been wakeful, like clockwork, every 2 hours. I stumble to his room, nurse him, rock him, put him back to bed, stumble back to my bed and sleep for 1.5 hours, then repeat.

I had several coping mechanisms, from coffee to power naps, which have all recently failed due to circumstances of fate and choice.

Tired, tired, tired. I walk into rooms and can't remember why I am there. I locked us all out of the house this week while The Honey was on a ski trip and had to call the locksmith. I put the milk in the cupboard, and let the teapot boil down to nothing. I have dark circles under my eyes. I caught the boys' cold. My immune system is finally too tired to resist.

I have this picture of The Honey and J and I, when J was 5 months old. It was taken just under 4 years ago, candidly, by a friend. The Honey and I look about 20 years old. Recent pictures reveal our actual age to be 113.

Not to worry though. It's the weekend. The Honey is home again. Tonight I am going to go to bed before 11, and I am sleeping in on Saturday AND Sunday. I have a dream that NT will sleep for 11 straight hours, and J won't wake shouting, "I have a pee leak!" 15 minutes into my REM cycle. Whatever. I have sleep to look forward to, and these days that is the best thing.

Walk the Line

2008-01-31T14:09:00.000-08:00

Today at preschool J had some sweet moments with his friend Dylan, who he has played with since before he could crawl. At pickup he had a picture that Dylan had made for him, and Dylan's mom told me about their cute interaction (a handshake that became a hug).

In the car J surprised me with this:

"Mom, when Dylan is a grownup and I am a grownup, I think we will get married. Yep. Then Dylan and I will walk the line... and get married, 'cause I'm not married yet. And I will give her a ring... because you always give girls rings when you get married so that they can look pretty."

Snow day

2008-01-29T20:40:00.000-08:00

We had snow the last couple of days. First it was all of these little snow pellets, like miniature packaging popcorn, only frozen. Later though, it was big fluffy postcard snow. I was trying to talk to The Honey, but I could see the snow out the window in the glow of the streetlight and was distracted. It's mesmerizing, like watching the fire. I took the boys out in their gear for a sled ride (featuring me as lead sled dog) this morning. They had fun but NT fell asleep within 10 minutes. I imagine it is pretty impossible to keep your eyes open when you are encased in that much puffy warmness. They should make adult-sized suits like that for insomniacs.

Bringing the Sexy Back

2008-01-22T14:16:00.000-08:00

We are bringing sexy back. Not only am I attending "boot camp" three days a week, watching what I eat (oh, look it's a doughnut - ha!), and getting my new bridge put in tomorrow (shiny, new, movie star teeth), but we are ALSO remodeling the kitchen.

Initially, The Honey had the idea to build some new cabinets himself and refab some stuff from the secondhand store. While it's true, that when it comes to demolition, making things "bulletproof" and anything to do with the sawzall, The Honey is very handy - aesthetically speaking, his handiwork falls a little short. When he starts a project he is full speed ahead to get it done, and he really is unstoppable - it's impressive. However, as he confessed one summer evening on the patio (beer in hand), "at some point the creative urge is fulfilled and then I just want to be done." That's when he cuts corners, and you are left with something that A). looks really odd, and B.) will never fall apart (bulletproof).

Admittedly, I am not the woman for the job. I can fully visualize what I want and how it should be done (would you like to work on it while I critique you?), but do I actually want to DO any of the work? I think the answer to that is apparent in the stacks of half-finished projects currently occupying my office.

Enter the Hardware Store and their fabulous kitchen remodeling software (cue music). Most impressive though, was that The Honey and I were able to come to a CIVIL agreement, in a PUBLIC place regarding the color of the countertops, and the wood/finish vs. price point debate. How inspiring we must be to married couples everywhere! To think, after just 14 years of the "Battle of the Obstinate Hotheads," we have successfully chosen Formica without considering divorce. I am still so proud of us I just want to go out and buy that sweet man a great BIG VALENTINE!

So, that is the tale of how sexy crept its way slowly back into our lives. I am going to drift to sleep tonight visualizing my fit self, revisited, puttering around our swanky kitchen, flashing my porcelain veneers at The Honey. I will always cherish the memory of the day we took on a remodeling project and still got along.

What kind of eggs are you?

2008-01-19T19:30:00.000-08:00

We went out to breakfast with the boys this morning. The waitress brought out our plates. The Honey and I had ordered the same thing, only we had our eggs prepared differently. As the waitress looked at us beseechingly (what goes where?) I said, "He's over-easy, I'm scrambled." That pretty much sums it up. I am glad I am not married to a hard-boiled, or poached.

What is a Ninja Mama?

2008-01-19T12:14:00.000-08:00

As with most of life's big moments, it began with an outfit. One morning as I put on my "post-baby, mom uniform" of black track pants (the only ones that fit my post baby belly comfortably) and one of my 9, yes NINE, long sleeve, black t-shirts. I realized that I was going out into the world again, dressed as a ninja. Slowly, I began to realize how ninja-like my life is.

1. My four-year old son's current obsession with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which has led to daily requests to, "Do your ninja tricks."

2. The events of a typical day that may include boot camp workouts, playdates, crafts, fort-building, doctor/dental appointments, shopping with four and one-year old boys, feeding, dressing and bathing same. Laundry, dishes, dinner, cleaning up, and squeezing in a little graphic design work at night.

Obviously this kind of balancing act could only be pulled off by a mom that also possesses the characteristics of a ninja:

Justice: "Give that toy back to your brother, he had it first"

Benevolence: "No matter what, mama always loves you."

Loyalty: "We are a family, so we have to help each other. Now, go get mama a pillow."

Spirituality: "Please God, is it 5:30 yet?!"

Self-control: "I will only eat SIX chocolate chip cookies once the kids are in bed"

Survival: "If you can sit still while we finish shopping, I will buy you gummy worms."

Assasination skills: (note to ninja self) If that little kid ever touches my kid again, I will drive over him with my double stroller, and never look back!