Laughing from the top of the roller coaster.

So I spent 3 hours cleaning Happy House today..

You know, for the showing that never happened.

And so today is the day I realized this real estate thing-a-ma-jigger that we've just recently signed up

for is going to be quite the roller coaster.

We live for nearly seven years with a crappy old oven, get a new one in our kitchen just in time for the realtor open house, and now must stare at the old one through our living room window. Officially, kicked to the curb.

And so this evening, with our feet up in our living room... I turned to the Hubs and said, how could this be?

I posted our OLD OVEN on FREECYCLE. How come no one has claimed it yet? I mean, we're trying to GIVE someone a free oven.

And then he said, "well, read me the posting you wrote..."

And so I did.

OFFER: 30" gas freestanding range white

Posted by: "ME"

Sun Feb 19, 2012 2:24 pm (PST)

Tappan manufacturer. Easy pick up - indicate day & time in your reply. This is an older model range in fair working condition (rust, bent handle).

***

And then we just laughed, and laughed and laughed (from the tippy top of our roller coaster ride....)

I guess our trash isn't anybody's treasure.

Watch where you wipe (your hands)

Last weekend I was at a wedding that's was really hard for me.
Really hard.
I like to kick back and enjoy myself as much as the next gal but this time it was hard. Really hard.
After a day and a half of, let's say "dealing" I was back in the hotel room with my honey, coming undone. My poor honey. Sure, he has seen me come undone. But I do usually try to keep it together.
"I just wish I didint care so much" (heave) "but every time I'm around these people I just (heave) can't help it I get (heave) so wrapped up in everything."

I'm so glad I had the ability to recognize this experience happening to me. Unfortunately I didn't quite possess the strength of character to stop it from happening. I mean I tried, to stop myself.
My poor honey.

I know this about myself, that's why I'm here, I think. Way up here. If I'm there, I'm that. When I'm here, I can be this. I think this is better than that.

So I've come back into my own and thanked my honey and hung up my pink and green so I think balance has been restored. And then today trough the powers of Facebook I saw a girl that I met in new Orleans write "so, I don't wear anything I can't wipe my hands on" and I thought YES that's where I am. What an incredible arc my life has been.
Because, no, one wouldn't want to wipe ones hands on ones Lilly pulitzer dress would they?

And I've got chalk prints everywhere.

A DSI Can't Compete With This.

Just before Xmas of 2010, we asked Dec for a Christmas list.

More interested in getting him to practice his penmanship than actually directing

"Santa" in his Christmas gifting.

Then, the hubs and I sat down to enjoy a few quiet moments while Dec worked on his list.

We smiled at each other.

(We thought his listing would take longer than it did.)

Within a minute, Dec waltzed in and handed us a list.

There was a snarky smirk on his face. It reminded me of my second oldest brother.

His list.

Dec's list.

We were eager to read it because he'd just started the fine art of writing, and we weren't sure he could EVEN SPELL THE NAMES of the toys he wanted.

The hubs and I huddled together. This was exciting.

We unfolded it and read together:

The list was short.

Just one thing?

Number 1. DSI

My first thought: Oh, he can spell it alright.

Second thought: Uh-Oh.

The hubs and I looked at each other.

We weren't entirely sure, but kind of certain, that a DSI

was a hand-held video gaming device.

I won't go into the boring details, but after many conversations Dec eventually learned that Santa wouldn't bring that to this house, so he may as well do a "Do Over" Christmas List.

(Which he did -and well.)

So yesterday, I sat upstairs typing up a press release for work and found myself having to shut down my laptop and just listen to Dec and his daddy play "Cars" downstairs.

They do a complete Piston Cup race, with each car talking/shouting in the appropriate

accent - and I?

I just crack up listening to them.

I just crack up.

Dec has spent countless hours with his cars and his wooden JENGA racetrack. He beelines for these toys when he enters the house and puts up a MAJOR FIGHT when he's asked to pack them up before bed.

3 dozen racecars, a racecar track, jenga pieces to make the race course, and 1 enthusiastic dad to make every wise-crack joke,

every funny 1-liner,

and the goofiest Mater voice any of us have ever heard.

Though Santa ignored Dec's (FIRST) XMAS list last year....

I know Santa made the right decision.

A DSI just can't come close to competing with these magical moments

Dec has had with his simplest toys,

his wild imagination,

and his one goofy daddy who

makes silly soundtracks for every skid-out, flat tire, checkered flag, draft, and course record.

A DSI just can't compete with this.

Not this year, at least.

Look at the Stars.

The other night Dame came home from a school budget meeting - a budget forum. (Yawn).

He was the best parent to send to this district-wide meeting and it made me feel like we were doing our household share by having him in attendance.

Plus, the meeting was held in the cafeteria of his old high school so I think he secretly wanted to be there. Or at least, this is what I told myself as I sat wrapped in a cozy blanket and sipped a warm cup of de-caf tea. At home.

I was somewhat startled by the sheet that he nonchalantly dropped on our kitchen counter after the meeting.

One of the areas the district is scrutinizing is transportation (busing) and the document indicated that "NY State law governs the maximum mileage that a district may require students to walk to school is 2 miles for K-8."

It goes on to indicate that "the school district community voted to reduce the maximum limits to .5 miles for K-8."

WHAT?!?!

****

On the same day, I got an email from Dec & Nonie's dental practice about Halloween candy indicating that they will "collect unopened candy (no bites please) on Tues Nov 2nd from 8-5 pm. Candy will be sent to the Troops serving our Country. For every pound collected our Ghosts and Goblins will earn $1 per pound and receive an electric glowing toothbrush!"

I'm sorry but, WHAT?!?!

****

Then there was the silent Saturday Soccer notice we got about parents being discouraged from talking (at all. to anyone.) at their children's soccer games and practices. You know, out of respect for the players... this one Saturday was devoted to silence.

So, sidelines sat quiet while
Players scored on the wrong goals.
Confused corner kicks.
And silently played a game of quiet soccer.

Just that one Saturday though, the rest of the season parents are allowed to shout at the kids from the sidelines.

What?!?
****

That very same day I had my recurring thought that I have (no lie) every day. This is the one thought that grounds me and forces me to not take myself too seriously. It is clear as day:

I picture God laughing.
I can just see God laughing at the crazy world. At us.
Laughing.
At all of us here on Earth.
I picture God looking down from above with the thought:
Really?
That is what you've all done with the wonderful world I gave you?
You worry about walking too far, eating sweets, coaching kids from the sidelines, and spend hours with your heads focused on electronic gadgets.
Really?
That is not at all what I'd envisioned for you. My people.
You're zooming from here to there in the blink of an eye and barely connecting with the incredible people I've surrounded you with.
You're worrying about money, social status, houses, cars, vacations, and all the things I never comprehended when I set you all down on that magnificent planet in the first place?

Really?
That's what you've done with all that I gave you?


****
The other morning we woke the kids early to head to Vermont.

It was well before sunrise and Dec was the first I scooped to carry out to the car.
During my first few trips to the car with snacks, books, clothes... I'd noticed the sky was glowing with stars. I paused. For the first time in a long time a gazed at the night sky and marveled at it.

In the moments it took to get Dec wrapped in Ba-Ba, snuggled under my chin and down the stairs, I had told him once and then reminded him two more times to be sure to look at the stars in the night sky once we were outside and heading toward the car.

The night was brilliant. It was vast. And I had been suddenly reminded of how seldom I venture out with the kids to look at it.

Just as we stepped out the door and as the crisp air circled us, Dec immediately lifted his head and looked up.

And I relaxed and found peace because I just knew he was seeing what I'd hoped he would see.


****

It is a really different world they live in. My sweet children.
Far different from the one I grew up in.
I ate every last piece of my Halloween candy as a kid.
And I know I walked far to bus stops and friend's houses.
(That was part of the fun).
And I'm not sure how'd I've improved as a soccer player without my Dad embarrassing me from the sidelines during games.

Sometimes I feel so helpless because I know there is no turning back.
And I get caught up thinking that our systems (most of them anyway) are fundamentally flawed (For example, if we ask kids to walk 2 miles - that's great - but AT LEAST provide sidewalks.).

I often conclude that there is nothing I can do to turn things back to the good old days.

But then I turn to the stars - and am comforted.
I turn toward the stars and I know.

The same night sky that I would turn to as a child for answers, hope, and inspiration
will always be there for my own children in their search for the same.

I Look at the Stars.
And when I take time to do this simple, simple thing
I feel in my heart that

God's laughter stops.

I Come Into The Peace.

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

The Other Side of Awesome.

Nonie's favorite book right now is the Big Red Barn.

She chooses it always as one of her bedtime treasures.

Tonight was no different.

She cluched it along with Brown Bear, Brown Bear and hopped on into bed.

Emah actually turned me on to this book - I never appreciated before she exclaimed,

"it has every farm animal in it - Xave loves it - of course, Nonie will love it - read it to her.."

So out of the goodwill pile it came and I read it.

It is pretty awesome.

Tonight though, when I asked sweet Nonie what each animal says her response surprised me.

Instead of Moo, Quack, Neigh, Baa - I got "No Nos" "No Nos" "No Nos".

For those who aren't down with her lingo, "No Nos" is her name.

Or at least according to Xave and her.

Here we go: What does the cow say? "No Nos" Really? What does the pig say? "No Nos!"

Each animal. They all were reading from the same script. Apparently.

When the book was finished I tucked her in and asked her the million dollar question.

Nonie, what does the other side of awesome look like?

And she pointed to her heart.

Broken Wings and Things...Like Hope.

Back in the day when I used to wear shorts (that's for you T) and dated a cute guy with long hair and earrings (that's for you D: sometimes I miss the long hair, but not the earrings), I had the unique opportunity to set up Plover Exclosures.

Plover Exclosures. Try saying that 10 times fast.

Called exclosures because they exclude predators - but keep the good guys inside.

And my first time doing it I witnessed the best acting I've seen in all my life. The actress happened to be a tiny sand-colored bird.

The Plover Mama we'd been monitoring had finally laid eggs. We had to move quickly (four of us rangers) to set up fencing in just the right way, so as to allow Mama the freedom to come and go without allowing her predators to do the same.

The exclosure had to be set up in record time. If Mama Bird was off her eggs for too long they may sizzle in the sun, or she may abandon them all together.

Once the exclosure was installed, we were to watch Mama B through binoculars while hearts pounded. Will she or won't she go back to her eggs?

If Mama Bird didn't return to her nest the exclosure would be removed.

OH! The pressure!

***

The moment we arrived Mama Bird began her Oscar performance.

Her distraction displays - or efforts to make us all believe that she had a severely broken wing were instinctual, incredible, and borderline unbelievable.

She would dive bomb our heads (we were giants to her, and numbers were most definitely in our favor). Once she got our attention she'd throw herself on the ground and drag her wing behind her body.

Her antics continued: wing dragging and stumbling and desperately trying to lead the 4 of us away from her nest. She chirped madly the entire time.

"Take me, take me, TAKE ME! " came her heartfelt cry, "Leave my babies and take me".

And I realize now, she did this all to preserve Hope.

Hope was encased in eggshells and rested in her tiny clutch of eggs. Hope was cradled by a mound of sand. Hope was hidden so precariously within the huge tire tracks of over-sand-vehicles near the high water mark of this majestic south shore beach.

(Tire tracks never make good nurseries, Mama Bird. But tonight, I forgive you.)

In the name of Hope, I forgive you.

***

I recounted this story to a colleague today for the first time in about 7 years. Together we marveled (as we often do) about the incredible experiences and great fortunes we've had working in and for the natural world.

But with this Mama Bird story now fresh in my mind, I find I'm wondering what my distraction display will look like when it comes time to protect my nest.

I have no wing to drag. I have no fight song to chirp (except for "Hail to the Victors" however, that just doesn't seem to cut it).

But, I do know that if challenged -

I will offer up myself in order to preserve Hope.

My Hope.

For My babies.

Because some days, it is this Hope (My Hope For Them),

that is the only thing keeping me going.

Boot Makeovers & Cell Phone Sightings?

These are my big ugly "man-boots" that I bought for $9 in northern Maine so SO many years ago (after they spent a rainy afternoon with Declan).

My cute yellow-polka-dot-hand-painted (by 4-year-old Dec)-boots.

These are my boots.

My super cute yellow-polka-dot-with bright yellow grosgrain ribbon bows woven into the tops that used to be big ugly "man-boots". Thanks Dec, any time I need someone to paint my boots in the future - you're the one I'll beeline for.

Today was the first day I wore my super cute boots since the "boot makeover" which took place at Gran's house while she was in Florida and Nonie was asleep in the car in the driveway and Dec and I needed and searched (ransacked the entire house - more like it) for a rainy day project.

Anyway. I prolly got about 14 comments about these kicks today. I mean, wouldn't you comment if you saw them coming at you? Apparently, people think I'm creative.

Apparently, I need to go into business.

And I would be way more excited about this idea (have I created the "next big thing"???), except for the fact that all day long I couldn't find my cell phone.

Just typing it gives me angst.

Still can't find it. I've called it and the ringer is off. Why do I own a phone anyway?

So, I can't really focus on making millions by having Dec spend the rest of his life using Gran's circular sponges to paint big yellow polka-dots on $9 boots.

'Cause I can't find my phone.

Has anyone seen my phone?

It is pink.

Plain Pink with no Polka Dots.



Anyone?

"My Hands Are Full"

What a day. Where to begin? I still have the smell of vomit wafting from my wedding band as I type. 3 washes and still a faint smell. Not sure if I really care any more.

It started with the surprise snowstorm, which I immediately used as an excuse to keep Dec home from school. No delay, no cancellations --- but I heard the roads were terrible this morning. We wouldn't know. We were knee deep in closet organization and finding the ultimate comfy snowy day outfits to change into. All three of us.

Afternoon plans to spend magical time at Xave's quickly faded as Nonie's eyes grew glassier and glassier throughout the morning. By lunchtime I gave her some pain relief, recorded a temperature of 102 and carried on with the day.

By about 3pm we were ALL ready to burst out of Happy House. It just wasn't big enough for all of us. Nonie was restless and not comfortable in her own skin. Dec caught on to the fact that there was, in fact, school today (which he missed) and began to jump about as if to prove to me that he should've been there. We had to get out.

First though - a short work call during which I heard myself thinking, "what whiney kids in the background??? Oh! those two feverish kids who are bouncing off the walls!!!? Yup, they're with me." Apparently I forgot to clear my "grand plan" (of having them both quietly resting while I conducted the call) with their inner sleep schedules. Maybe next time.

So we went to Dec's school to drop something off and on a whim I grabbed his sled. Figured we'd drive about before pulling in - to let "feeling miserable Nonie" (sounds like a name of a toy doll huh?) fall asleep on the way there. Didn't happen. She fought every south-bound eyelash and reversed the force of gravity that seemed (at least to me, from my rearview view) to be tugging those lashes down to a restful state.

At the school Dec made tracks in untracked snow. And, I immediately thought to myself: Oh NO! I just let him go sledding in forbidden (during school hours) territory!!! How do I cover his tracks (my tracks!) OUR TRACKS ALL OUR TRACKS!!!! before the gaggle of students arrive in the morning and see that the prime sledding hill, can ACTUALLY BE USED (AND HAS BEEN USED!) for sledding!!!

We (I, with my tail between my legs for breaking school rules) wandered over to a GrandCathal and Nonie who were both miserable together in the parking lot. Cathal: so darn cold he was actually shivering. Nonie: so darn sick she was actually mean to him (typically she is the sweetest darn thing in his presence - she works that relationship good and hard).

GrandCathal pointed to the sky and said - another squall is coming, hope it isn't freezing rain. Best be going. So we jumped in the car. By the time we got 100 yards from the school - the torrential snow (is that possible) plummeted at us from the sky.

By the time we got to our road a wee 5 minutes later, it was pitch black and I couldn't see the front of my car, or the side of the road, or oncoming traffic, or any of that other useless stuff.

Noticed immediately that shoveling needed to be done and the safest and warmest place for Nonie was in the car while we tended to it. She sat and picked her nose while we shoveled (I peaked twice through the foggy windows at her and both times she was delighted in her runny nose). Dec started on the front porch - I took the driveway area.

Not too long into it I called to him, "Hey Murph! Can you get me the big red shovel - this little black one is too small and heavy".

He seemed so far away in these blizzard conditions. But I caught a glimpse of his blue jacket and his tiny plastic kid's snow shovel. Then I watched him steady himself on the slippery walkway stone.

His reply is what stopped me, "Don't you see my hands are full Mom? I can't pick up your shovel for you!"

And just like that I gasped on the tiny laugh (filled mostly with shock) that erupted from my belly. Did I just hear him right? What sass!

And so, I got what I deserved. Absolutely 100%.

For Dec, I'm certain, had heard me say that to him at least once this very week. Granted, and my memory of the statement is becoming vividly clear as I type this, the actual context of my "hands are full" remark to him was this:

Picture: Little Me. Carrying Nonie. WHILE carrying 4 reusable shopping bags filled with 6 seltzers, laundry detergent, 2 gallons of milk, 1 1/2 dozen eggs, and several other cans of refried beans and 4 loaves of bread. WHILE (at the very same time) carrying his LLBEAN school bag. And Nonie's diaper bag.

He asks me in full awareness of my heavy load, "can you open this juice box for me".

To which I replied (lovingly), "Dec, can't you see my hands are full? I will when I put your sissy and all this stuff down....".

And so, you're all thinking I deserved his comment aren't you? Aren't you? Well, you can think that....

Now, on to the vomitty ring.

Actually, I'll save that for next time.

Three Grannies

I learned this morning, that Dec has three grannies.

And this is the conversation that lead me there...

Trey has two grannies!

Wow Dec, that is pretty special. You have two grannies also!

(Silence)

No, I don't.

Yes you do.

(More Silence)

No. I have three grannies mom!

(Silence) (This time, from me)

Three grannies huh? Who are your three grannies?

Granny Annie!

Yup.

Granny Tess!

Yup.

And My Emah!

(Silence) (Tear...from my eye)

Auntie Emah is your granny?

Yup!

Why do you think Auntie Emah is your granny?

Because, My Emah loves me like my grannies do!

So there you go Emah - elevated to Grandperson status just like that! With love from Declan.

Now that you earned the honor, try drawing him a family tree!

I Now Know Why

Today was a bit hectic. But I'm glad to say that right now, at 11:32pm I now know a few more things than I did this morning.

* After a good long soak in the hot tub, chased with a jaunt to the steam room, and a hop to the sauna (in lieu of working out this evening at the gym) - I now know why Susie speaks so highly of the tri-bathalon. I think I won it.

* This evening, I watched out the windows as Declan skied and skied and skied under the spotlights (!) in our backyard, down a wee-slope I can hardly call a hill, well after sunset. And, I now know why Damien spent countless hours (and the good Lord knows how much money) working a few weeks ago on "outdoor lighting" while my insides boiled over because he wasn't addressing the real issues with this crazy little Happy House that has more quirks than you can shake a stick at. The outside lights weren't even close to making it on the "needs attention list".

* After driving home from the tri-bathalon with a pit-stop/sista' chat fest - at Emah's, I can honestly say - I now know why I tell any and everyone that I'm so lucky to have family who live close by.