I have moved

I just realized, I went and moved my blog and never even announced I was thinking about doing it! I know from checking out my stats that some of you read me without following my links from facebook, so this post is for you. Please bookmark my new blog site. http://www.ibebloggen.com/

It took me a little while to get back into the saddle of blogging, but once I did, I really really liked it again. So, I moved my blog off blogger/blogspot so I could have ultimate control over how it looks and what I do with it. Blogger was a great starting point, but it was time to move on.

If you enjoy reading my daily ramblings, please follow me to my new site -
thank you!
Dee

Apple Orchards and Children Just Go Together

A friend and I took our girls to the apple orchard this last Friday. Even though it is October, it was a beautiful day with a pretty strong breeze. Perfect weather for romping around the apple orchard. As we were driving up there I couldn't help but think about going to the apple orchard every year as a kid. It was one of those fall things that you look forward to, because you only get to do it once a year. And it comes with donuts!

When I became a grown up, I didn't want to let go of the apple orchard experience and so had persuaded Lance to take me each year. I don't recall the name of the one we went to up in the cities, but down here we found Center Grove Orchard. They give you these long sticks with little grabbers on the end so you can actually pick your own apples. Surprisingly fun! We didn't have kids for many years we were together so it didn't feel right going to the kiddie portion of the orchard, but it looked awesome. So, when fall rolled around the first year we had Hannah I was excited to be able to take her to the orchard.

It was a hit. She got to see and pet and feed goats, horses, and chickens. But chickens bite and unfortunately she learned that one the hard way before we could get her fingers out of there. The orchard has a corn-pit too, something everyone should get to enjoy at some point in their lives. Growing up in Wisconsin, I'm no stranger to corn pits. A huge vat of dried kernels of corn that you wallow around in as if it were a ball bit, only way more dusty. You come out of it covered from head to toe in a couple layers of filth. But watching the kids roll around and cover themselves with corn is worth the dirt you'll have to wash off them later at home. After all, it is a farm, dirt is to be expected.

When we went back to the orchard this year, I'm not sure if she remembered it from before or if it was all brand new to her. But she could have easily spent the whole day there just playing. We met up with our friends in the corn pit and the girls were wading through the corn like it was nothing, even though on them it came up past their knees! Hannah is at the age now where I don't have to hover over everything she does but can just casually watch her from a short distance to be sure she isn't going to get hurt or suddenly run off. So it was nice to just sit on the bales of straw and watch her play without having to get in there myself and get dirty. I thought I might have a hard time getting her to come out of there, that she might want to put up a fight because it was so much fun. But the draw of animals to pet was larger than I realized. As soon as I mentioned there were baby goats that needed feeding and petting she was crawling up the bales to go see.

I didn't count how many goats they had, but I'm guessing at least a couple dozen, all colors and sizes. I love a goat, if Lance would let me, I would have one as a pet. Without a doubt, these goats are well cared for and fed almost constantly, because you can buy little containers of goat chow to feed them. But these guys act as if they haven't had a meal in weeks the way they come up to you and push each other out of the way for just one more piece of chow. Hannah kept wanting to feed the little baby goats, saying the big goats had had enough. We worked out a system where I would distract the big goats while she snuck some chow into the little goats.

After we had our fill of all the animals and pedal tractors, it was time to head inside for cider and donuts. Knowing there was a donut waiting for her at the end of this adventure helped keep her focused and on track. Or at least as focused as a 2 year old can be. She put down that donut in record time and when she asked for another I couldn't say no, it was a special orchard day. On the way home, she ate an entire apple as well…playing obviously worked up her hunger.

Already I can't wait for next year. Eliza will be old enough to play in the corn pit and pet the goats. She may even want to give pedal tractors a go. Whatever she wants to try, I'm game for, because a fun day at the orchard is just that. A day full of fun, that ends with a donut.

Hannah and the Moon

Hannah saw the moon last night, in person, for the first time in months. She knows what it is, has read about it in books, seen it on tv, but doesn't get to see it "for real" ever. It's not that we keep her from it intentionally, but it is never out before her bedtime rolls around. Last night though, she was up late because of a doctor visit and the moon was the highlight of her whole day. It came at a cost though...

She has been sick for almost a week now and yesterday I noticed these bright red clustery things in the back of her throat. Her sick has mainly been snot and a fever, so I never really looked at her throat because it didn't seem to be bothering her. But when I accidentally caught a glimpse of it yesterday, I called the doctor's office right away to ask what that was. The receptionist didn't even patch me through to the nurse to ask, once she heard me describing it she said "oh I know they're going to want to see her." They had an appointment yet that night, at 7:00. I told her we'd take it. Even though it was her bedtime, doctors trump schedules. So, because of how doctor's office visits tend to run, they didn't get home until about 8:30 and Hannah couldn't stop talking about the moon. Apparently on the drive home, that's all she could talk about - where's the moon? There's the moon! I find the moon! What's it doing up there? Why is the moon there? I see the moon! Then we had to sit on the back porch stairs for awhile admiring the moon. Doctor said she doesn't have strep, but she does have a very irritated and inflamed throat and some liquid on her ears. So, really, she has nothing. But they gave her some antibiotics to fend off the ear infection that is inevitable after having been sick for so long.

We have scheduled our girls from as early as they would let us. When they were super young, everything was just on demand. As they neared 2 or 3 months old though, I started to notice a pattern of things and so went with it as the schedule. Hannah and Eliza both do so much better when they stick to their eating and sleeping routine. This is another one of those parenting things that is different for everyone. Some families don't schedule and feel it is too confining or just not for them. Other families stick to their schedules no matter what because they have learned what works for them. That is us. If it is time for a nap, we take a nap, regardless of what we are doing. Because if we don't - it is awful. Last night could have been worse, but it was bad enough. Hannah was so over-tired that she gave the appearance of being fine and raring to go. Some people would have said, "oh she's not tired, she's fine" but we know better, we knew she was exhausted. It was like wrangling and octopus. She was literally all over the place. She had stayed up late enough, that she had gotten her second wind and it took a lot of soft-talking and coercing to get her to calm down and relax enough to listen to stories before bed. Once bedtime routine was over and I left the room, she was asleep in about 10 minutes.

One of these days, she'll see the moon again and I am pretty sure it will as exciting as it was last night. But I know, it will come at a cost…the cost being an over-tired and tough to wrangle toddler.

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Thank you, Steve Jobs

Last night as I was watching Survivor and flipping through Facebook, I saw several of my friends posting about Steve Jobs having died. I knew right away it wasn't a hoax, but that it was sadly, true. I couldn't help but think about all of my connections to Steve, our house is littered with his innovations; iPods, iPhones, iPad, iMac, iBook, even Pixar movies. Then I started thinking about how he really helped shape my career; all of my jobs as a grown up were Mac-based.

It all started when I was really young, like maybe 7 or 8. For whatever reason, mom sent me to computer camp one summer. It wasn't like in the woods or anything because that would be against everything computers stood for. But it was at some community college and I carpooled there with one of my grade school friends and his mom. That was where I saw my first Apple computer and learned what to do with "open apple" and "closed apple." At some point the closed apple fell by the wayside and then eventually the apple logo disappeared from the keyboard entirely and was replaced by the command symbol. I still call it the apple key. True, die-hard apple fans probably do the same thing without even realizing it.

The part time job choices in my small town were very limited, especially since I didn't have a car. So, I ended up working at our bowling alley and then our nursing home. The stories I could tell about the nursing home…whoa. Anyway, as soon as I moved away for college and came to the big city of Des Moines, I was overwhelmed by the job opportunities. I could have chosen anything, but was drawn to Kinko's. Many of my friends, including Lance, will say it was because Bill was working behind the counter. Regardless of what got me in the store, it was the technology that kept me there. Because it was a copy store, I of course started out making copies but kept finding myself being pulled to the computer room to learn and eventually help the guys in there. I stayed with Kinko's for years and became the Manager of their computer department. Desktop publishing was my thing for a long time, I really enjoyed it but would get irritated every time I called Kinko's help desk support line. They never seemed able to answer my question. That was when I realized I wanted to be on the other end of things. Designing was fun, but I had more of a technical mind and wanted to work "with" the computers, not "on" them.

Every job after that was specific to the mac and was in some form of technical support. With Advantage Computers, I was able to travel the country installing macs, networks, and software. With Target Corporation, I was the one who helped the über creative marketing department print. That was one of my favorite jobs…it allowed me to do my techy thing, while at the same time being surrounded by creative people. It was with Target that I got to experience my first ever MacWorld. I'll never forget seeing Steve Jobs deliver his keynote address, I was literally shaking with excitement. I've lost count of how many MacWorlds I've been to since, but I know with certainty that I have gotten the shivers every time. When I was sitting in the crowd watching Steve talk about his latest, greatest thing, I always had that feeling of camaraderie. I was with my people; I was where I belonged.

My dream job had always been to work at Apple HQ. It was a possible dream for many years while I was single, but once we got married and talked about roots and family, I knew I had to let that dream go. California was not an option for us. So, I started looking at the next best thing. I took Apple certification courses here in town so that I could become an extension of the Apple family. As a certified hardware and software technician, I was legally allowed to add the Apple logo to my email signature. That was a truly proud moment. Being Apple Certified also put me on Apple's radar and I was extended special, exclusive invitations. Each time I would receive an email from someone at Apple, my heart would do a little flip.

One time I was invited to a Beta class they were offering, and my job at the time encouraged me to go because Apple was going to foot the bill for the entire trip. I don't think I slept a night I was out there. I had, of course been to California many times before for work and conferences, but this was different; this was the Mothership calling me to them. Walking around the Apple campus was a dream come true, I was in awe the entire time. One day as I was leaving the cafeteria with my group of Beta testers, I saw Steve. He was sitting at a table, casually eating lunch with Jonathan Ive. I didn't know what to do, I felt like I can only imagine I would feel if I bumped into Tom Waits. I wanted to run up to him and scream, "I'm your biggest fan!!" But, it was Steve and everyone knows you don't do that to Steve. So, I very nonchalantly walked up towards the table and passed it by without so much as a "can I have your autograph?"

So, thank you Steve Jobs. Thank you for all you've given me in my career and in my home. You were a truly inspiring man and our generation was lucky to have you.

Eleanor's Baby Book

Yep, Eleanor has a baby book. She was our first child, of course she has a baby book! It isn't the traditional "first word, first step" type of book but it is overflowing with her baby pictures. And just like you'd expect, Eleanor has one and Franklin doesn't…because he was the second child. Of course we took pictures of him, many many pictures, but just never got around to putting them in a book.

We have a shelf of all our photo albums and Hannah enjoys leafing through them occasionally. She went through a big phase of looking at these books and we'd look at baby Eleanor pictures almost daily. But, since moving to this house, the albums are in a different spot and she either doesn't remember they're there or doesn't want to look at them as often. Although last night, while I was upstairs putting Eliza to bed she pulled out Eleanor's album. I don't think I would have been able to make it through the book with her, so I'm glad that it was Lance showing her the pictures this time. Just hearing him tell me that they had done that, brought tears to my eyes and made me remember how much fun we had with her when she was young and spry. Baby Eleanor was beautiful, everyone said so.

There are pictures detailing her every milestone. Her first blankie, her first chew toy, her first bath, her first walk…we were obviously proud parents. We even have her school graduation certificates, she was our genius. Lance was the one to take her to all of her classes and work with her on training, and so their bond was tighter. I was of course her mommy, but she was Daddy's girl for sure. I used to have to repeat my requests to her at least a couple times, but Lance would say, "sit" and her ass would hit the floor before he even finished speaking the word! As she got older and more set in her ways I would just ask Lance to tell her to sit. I didn't even bother trying because she would just give me that look of, "I don't wanna…make me." But when Lance wasn't here and it was just us girls during the day, she paid attention to me just fine. One of her funny quirks I guess :)

I still can't get over the amount of food I've been throwing away lately…its just crazy. I feel like I need to be scraping our plates outside for random squirrels or something. I never thought I gave her that many table scraps during the day, but apparently I did. Everything Hannah half-eats would have been offered to Eleanor to finish. It's hard to say what I miss most with Eleanor being gone, I think of her so often throughout the day. I do know that I really really miss her welcoming us home. Whether we'd been gone for 5 minutes or 5 hours, she'd greet us like it had been days. I miss the wagging tail and the kisses. She also had this un-canny ability to hear Lance pulling in the drive. No matter what car he was driving or what time of day it was, she knew when it was him and she would stop what she was doing to go wait by the door.

Restraint at Sam's

Since adding a second child to the family, we've been trying harder to actually stick to a budget. One job supporting 3 people can only go so far, so I've been doing my part by paying very close attention to what we spend for groceries and all other household items. I've started to use coupons and shop sales and I'm happy to report that on average, I save about 30-40% each trip to the store.

Part of it is just paying attention to the prices in the store. Surprisingly, I hadn't really done that before, I just bought what we needed when we needed it. If it happened to be on sale, then score for me! I know "extreme couponing" is super hot right now, but I am not one of those..I'm a stay at home mom trying to save some money in the store. I had gotten us a Sam's membership years ago because I just assumed you're getting a good price at the warehouse stores. Buying twelve cans of soup at once has got to be cheaper, right? I've since learned my lesson there…Sam's Club is very deceiving. Some things are cheaper, but I'd say 90% of the things I bought, I was paying way more for than I realized.

Yesterday I packed up the girls and hit Sam's for the first time in months. Even though I know I don't need it, I still can't resist the urge to pile things in my cart. Especially at Holiday time, they have all these spectacular looking gift baskets that seem to be marketed directly at me. Old me would have just willy nilly gone for the pretty, shiny things that caught my eye; new me stuck to my list and my plan. It was hard. That was the first time I have ever shown any kind of restraint in Sam's and as soon as I got out of the store, I had to call Lance to tell him all the things I didn't buy!

What I did buy though were 14 large bottles of spices and a package of frozen chicken breasts. I have found that spices in the grocery store are ridiculously priced and coupons for them are few and far between. Sam's doesn't have all the spices I like to use, but at least I can stock up on the ones they do have, like chili powder. You can get a 20 ouncer for about $6, compared to the grocery store where a 1 ouncer is about $1.

Unfortunately they didn't have the other main thing I headed there for so I will have to make a return trip later this month before my membership expires. I have found that Sam's has got the best gingerbread house making kit. As much as I resist the whole craft-making-crap thing, I have compared gingerbread house kits and in my opinion, Sam's wins. And this year, I know Hannah is going to LOVE making the gingerbread house. She'll probably have more creative control than she has had the past years, so I expect our house will be a little more abstract and probably won't be particularly symmetrical. But I can't wait, because with Hannah, this craft-making-crap thing is fun :)

The Daddy Daughter Bond

My Dad has been on my mind a lot lately. This last April marks 3 years since he passed away. He would have been 74 this last August. Every time I see Lance with Hannah, and now with Eliza, it makes me think…wow, that is probably how my Dad was with me when I was that young.

For those who are new to my blog, or my life in general and don't know my Dad story, you can do a little back-reading if you'd like. But, I know I was a Daddy's girl. Ask my sisters and that's the first thing they'll say, right after "OMG, she was SO spoiled!" And ya, I probably was spoiled..the pet pony, the piano, the anything I asked for…but that's all part of being a Daddy's girl, right?

I can see that bond forming with Lance and Eliza and I see it in place already with Lance and Hannah. And it just makes my heart melt. I'm so glad that they have Lance as their Dad, they're both very lucky little girls. The relationship daughters have with their Dads are so different than the ones they have with their Mothers. In my experience, the Mom is the one who takes care of the day to day grind and the Dad is this special treat they get to spend time with on the weekends when he isn't at work. A trip to the Daddy store (Home Depot) is sometimes the highlight of Hannah's weekend, because it is time spent with Lance.

And little Eliza…she already knows how special Daddy is. Even when she was itty bitty and still fresh, she would stop whatever she was doing as soon as she heard Lance's voice. It's the cutest thing when Lance comes home from work and she isn't expecting him. I can see on her face the moment she hears him come into the room, she lights up and starts looking around for her Daddy. When Hannah was this young, she of course loved her Daddy, but she didn't seek him out like Eliza does. Even though I'm her main food source, there are many times when she would just as soon snuggle in Daddy's lap rather than mine.

When I watch Lance reading Hannah a story, or see him wiggling Eliza's toes, I smile. I smile on the outside and I smile on the inside, because I see what a great family I have and how lucky I really am. I know the time will pass all too quickly and soon enough Lance will be asking some "young man" to bring her home by 10 and to drive safely. Those days are going to be hard for both of us, but probably harder for the Daddy who is letting his little girl grow up.

Censored

So, I've had a few different subjects bouncing around in my head lately that I've wanted to write about but I haven't. For the average reader, they'd be something that just makes you say, 'hmm, interesting. But for some, they'd be considered controversial and perhaps even a little offensive.

I brought up one of the topics to Lance this morning. It was really more of an observation about myself and my kids, but he said -nope, I wouldn't write about that at all. I had already come to that conclusion before even mentioning the idea to him. I know though, that there would be plenty of people out there who whole-heartedly agree with what I have to say on the subject. But I also know there would be at least a couple who wouldn' t agree at all and would be upset by it. So, I have censored myself and won't write about that.

Then I brought up another topic I'd been thinking about, another observation and somewhat of a question I've had for a long time. I've been thinking about it more because I was just watching a movie that directly addressed it. But, not really appropriate for me to write about because, I know a few people who would be upset by the mere mention of my question. So, again I've censored myself.

It's getting tricky. I have never considered myself a writer, probably never will. But I do find it enjoyable and at times, very cathartic. I'm one of those people who used to keep a journal, even as I got older and was in college, I journaled. Sometimes just the act of writing something down helps you work through what you need to and sometimes it's just fun to spell out your thoughts. It seems to give them more definition and me more direction as to what it is I'm really thinking about. So, there are just going to have to be some things that are off limits for me. I may think about them and wonder about them and talk about them with Lance, but in the interest of others' feelings, I just can't talk about them in a public forum.

I bet there are a couple of you wondering, wow…what *has* she been thinking about but can't type? Can't tell you ;)

Don't Touch Me

I've been thinking about this ever since I found out I was pregnant with Hannah, how do I keep her safe? How do I instill in her the importance of stranger danger without completely freaking her out? How do I teach her about what is right and what is wrong when it comes to peoples' touches and words.

This subject recently came up in my mommy group and so I've been thinking about it non-stop these days. I have been doing some online research in terms of age appropriate books and reviews of those books. For some reason, I always think I need to approach a subject with a book and then go from there. I did the same thing with potty training…did some research, bought a couple books, read them, put them into action. Researching and reading comes natural to me and gives me the tools I need to approach anything with more confidence. I guess I learned something in my 15 year IT career.

When we lived in the duplex, there was a registered sex offender living across the street and down one house. I know this because I frequent the online offender registry. I need to know who is living near me and if they are considered dangerous. The sex offender registry is unfortunately nowhere near an absolute safeguard, it is just a starting point. There are too many people that slip through the system and simply do not register or have yet to be caught. When you talk about sex crimes and sexual abuse with others, it is absolutely frightening and heartbreaking to find out how many lives it has touched. That is why we are starting as early as we are with Hannah. She needs to begin to learn "safe touch" and "stranger danger" now.

Every one parents differently and I respect that. But for us, it isn't an option to let our child grow up not knowing she can't come to us with questions about her body or concerns about people. I've heard too many times that a child was afraid to tell their parent for fear of not being believed, or for fear of getting in trouble. That is just way too much for a little kid to have to hold on to, they need to be able to tell their mommy and daddy what is going on.

Something that I learned in my reading is that we need to teach our children that their bodies are their own. It is and should be up to them who can hug them, and who can kiss them. They need to be taught early that it is okay to say no to a hug. I hear all the time, "go give so and so a hug" "no, I don't want to" "do it anyway". That is sending the wrong message to our children; it is essentially telling them that we, the parents, expect them to allow someone (no matter who) to touch them to make that other person happy. That is where I have started with Hannah, I ask her for hugs and kisses and if she says no; I respect that and follow it up with a simple, if you don't want to, you don't have to. She'll of course, come flying at me not a minute later asking for hugs and kisses. Because she is such a hugger, I'm working at it from the other angle as well; if one of her friends doesn't want a hug, then she needs to respect that and let it go.

It's a tough subject and one that makes some people uncomfortable. But it's a subject that we can't ignore and one we need to get our girls to be okay with talking about from an early age. I can't even bring myself to think about the "what if's" so we'll talk and we'll continue to talk, and we'll arm our girls with knowledge and power.

The Cats Have Run A-Muck

I know everyone grieves differently and I'm sure that is true for animals as well. Even though, I've always said that Eleanor was Lance's dog, I'm taking her passing very hard. She never listened to me, just like Franklin never listened to Lance. But turns out she was more my dog than I realized. I took care of her all day long, we watched our "stories" together during nap time and towards the end, she'd come sit on the couch next to me for some good head snuggles and we'd just talk.

So, I've been a mess. Some days are better than others, but I'm still crying my eyes out because I miss my dog. I'm still jumpy every time I hear a noise because there's no vicious set of teeth to protect me. Lance comes home from work to find all the locks on the door in place, and I've asked for more locks to be secured to the other door as well.

The cats are also a mess. They have lost their authority figure and are now running willy nilly through the house with nobody to reign them in. Mesa (the old one) is everywhere. She's been acting a little playful lately and hanging out ON the couch during the day. Which had been un-heard of before. George (the black one) is howling and caterwauling throughout the house. I think he actually misses Eleanor quite a bit. Eleanor never let George get too close, but she would tolerate his swishy tail every now and then. George used to be best buds with Franklin and they would literally snuggle and nap together. Then when Franklin moved out, George had a rough time of it and considered Eleanor his replacement Franklin. Henry (the gray one) has been more snuggly with me, if that's even possible. He's always been the one to jump in my lap if I'm sitting down but now, he follows me around even more as if he is worried I might disappear as well.

At any given time, any one of them can be heard tear-assing through the house. Eleanor used to keep them in line. Just one look from her or even her standing up to make a move towards them would make them think twice. Now, they have no ruler and don't seem to know what to do with their new-found freedom. I honestly don't remember what it's like to have a house with cats and no dogs, so I'm not sure if this is normal behavior or if this is them acting out because they're grieving Eleanor. Well, I'm pretty sure the caterwauling is a form of grieving…a loud form, but then, everyone grieves differently.

The Different Types of Thanksgivings

Writing about Christmas travels and plans yesterday made me think about Thanksgiving and how over the years my Thanksgiving traditions have changed depending on where I was in life. It seems that Thanksgiving isn't as high status as Christmas and so you have a little more freedom to opt out if you'd like.

When I was a kid, Thanksgiving was hands down one of my favorite holidays. There were no costumes or presents, but there was Uncle Jack's house. And I don't really know what exactly the draw was, but it was there. I just loved going down to Uncle Jack's and Aunt Rita's every year. We may have visited them other times of year, I'm not sure. All I know is that I looked forward to Thanksgiving because it meant we got to go to Sycamore. Everyone was there too, which made for a loud and packed house. That was probably part of the fun for me. For some reason, I equate loud with fun. Must have something to do with growing up in a large family.

As I got older, maybe high school age or so, we stopped going to Sycamore for Thanksgiving. I don't know why, but I know Thanksgiving suddenly lost its excitement for me. It just wasn't the same. So when I moved away for college, I opted out of the Thanksgiving-come-home-from-school break. Instead I found some friends in town to celebrate with. Thanksgiving, once again became fun!

We had a "friends" Thanksgiving then for quite a few years. It was awesome. Larry and Mike opened up their home, we got really messy, cooked up some great food and just kicked it. It was the perfect way to prepare for the inevitable stresses that would be coming just a month later with Christmas. I don't remember how many years we did the friends Thanksgiving for, but it was a great while it lasted.

Now that we've grown up and have our own little family, Thanksgiving is kind of up in the air. These last couple years, we've done one of our Christmas celebrations at Thanksgiving time and so have traveled. I would like to go back and do a friends Thanksgiving again, I just don't think that would work out as well with kids in the mix. So, for now, we're still figuring out this holiday.

**I actually just went back through my iPhoto library looking for some pics to add to this, but don't have any. The Sycamore Thanksgivings were before digital cameras and the Larry and Mike Thanksgivings were full of too much liquor to remember to take pictures!

The Planning That Is Christmas

The planning for Christmas has begun. We should have all pieces of the family on the calendar soon and then we can sit back and enjoy the ride.

When I was just a friend of Lance's, prior to any co-habitating or even co-holiday visiting, I saw him spend what seemed like the entire holiday season on the road. He had one set of grandparents in northern Iowa, another set in the quad cities, a mom in town and a dad in the quad cities. I know it was very important to him that he saw everyone for Christmas and of course, they all wanted to see him, it just meant he spent so much time in the car. To complicate matters a little, Lance's birthday is on the 23rd, the same as Tom's. And it had been a long-standing tradition that Lance and Tom spend their birthdays together.

Once we were married, we had to consider my people in the mix as well. Luckily, my people are all contained in the same area. So while we did have to drive clear back to Wisconsin, once we were there, that was it. There were some years that he and I spent our entire holiday vacation time traveling from relative to relative just to get them all in. That was when we were living in Minnesota and the large visiting circle took a long time to complete. It was great to see everyone, but we always felt like we needed an extra vacation day to recover from it all once we were back home.

A couple years ago, Lance's dad and Tom became snow-birds, so they essentially removed themselves from the Christmas travels and the birthday celebration tradition. With that side of the family, we all celebrate at Thanksgiving time. The location changes from year to year, so it gives everyone a chance at a short commute to celebrate. I love it. I think they have a brilliant idea with Christmas in November. And so far, pretty much everyone has always been able to make it, which makes it one big party. I love that there are so many cousins and kids to mix with. It reminds me a lot of my people. There is always someone with a baby and it's usually pretty loud :)

And Lance's mom has had dibs on Christmas Eve for a while now. Although, there was the one year I asked that we celebrate a couple weeks earlier because I was due to be 40 weeks pregnant at Christmas. With pregnancy comes perks. I think that may have been the same year we worked bacon into the otherwise pretty solid menu of liver sausage and waffles.

When we became our own little family of 3, we set down some ground rules regarding Christmas. No traveling on Christmas Day. It is important to us that Hannah get to wake up in her own home Christmas morning. Christmas is our day to lounge in jammies, play with new toys, and graze on special-only-on-this-day food, all day long. We've only done this for two years now, but it has been fantastic. I love knowing that for this special day, our family is creating memories and traditions for years to come.

Driving is Not a Sport

I know I was just bitching not too long ago about peoples' driving habits but I have to do it again. I am continually amazed by the amount of bad drivers I see on the road, every day. Lately, it seems that the news has been full of fatal traffic accidents and I can't help but wonder how many of them could have been avoided had someone just paid attention to what they were doing. Rarely is an accident ever just an "accident" - there is someone who is at fault, and there is someone who wasn't able to get out of the way in time.

Last night I was talking to Lance about what I am seeing on the roads these days and how it is just crazy. I remember driving the commute in Minneapolis from Uptown to Downtown (what, like maybe 8 miles?) but it was jam-packed with traffic and I never got in an accident and rarely did I see one. I also drove the freeways regularly to get around and used to really enjoy it. I actually thought it was fun to drive with heavy traffic and a lot of lanes. But these days, I find I am on edge and mostly scared to drive. Everywhere I look, people are driving like they are *trying* to kill someone.

I know part of it is that, right now, I am hyper-sensitive because I usually have my kids in the car and I'm always on alert and in momma-bear mode. And considering I was just T-boned not too long ago, I'm even more sensitive and aware of others' actions. Yesterday I was driving Hannah home from gymnastics and we're going down Grand, when I notice a Buick ahead of us in the other lane, going pretty slow. He wasn't doing anything wrong, other than going slower than the speed limit, so I kept my eye on him. As we got up to almost alongside him, on pops his blinker, and over he comes. I had to do a pretty severe swerve to get out of his way and Hannah says, "Mommy, you almost fell over!" I watch my language in the car now, so all I said was "yep, but we're cool now." I look over so I can give that driver the glare he deserves and see he is just staring straight ahead, hunched over the wheel like he is trying so very hard to see in front of him. Completely oblivious to what he'd just done.

Yesterday afternoon, I headed back out west for a little shopping and as I'm sitting in traffic on University Ave., I start looking at the other cars around me. The woman to the right was texting, wasn't even trying to hide it, had her phone right up on the steering wheel and was typing for all she was worth. As our lanes start moving forward, she moves too, but is able to somehow keep typing. Once I got on the interstate, there was this guy behind me who I could hear coming. He had one of those loud, vroom, vroom cars and he obviously was in a hurry to get somewhere fast - I watched him fly from the far right lane to the far left lane and then, like he was playing checkers or something, bounce from lane to lane, as he cut off car after car. I kept waiting for someone to not be paying close enough attention...

So, just because you put your blinker on, doesn't mean you can or even should, change lanes. STOP looking at your phone. Whatever it is, it can wait. If it absolutely cannot wait, then pull over and type. If you come upon a red light, do not run it. If you see the light ahead is yellow, chances are by the time you reach it, it will be red, so just slow down now. Leave your house 5 minutes earlier so you don't have to put others in danger with your daredevil traffic weaving.

Sleeping In

Oh how I love those words. I remember them fondly. When I was a kid, and mom allowed it, I could sleep until noon without any problem. As I got older, I scaled it back to about 10am because I didn't want to *totally* sleep away the day. Now that we have children, I consider myself lucky if I can sleep until 7am.

Pre-kids, Lance and I would sleep in on the weekend. I always got Saturday, and he got Sunday. Because, while we didn't have kids, we still had a dog that really preferred we let her outside to potty in the morning. But on our respective sleep in days, we'd each go until about 9 or 10 and it was so nice.

When Hannah came, our schedules were adjusted. I woke up when she woke up, period. Sometimes I was really lucky and could coax her back to sleep after she'd eaten and we lay in bed snuggling while Lance got dressed and ready for work. A little piece of me would feel bad, but then I would remember how early I was up feeding her and I'd doze right back off again. As she got old enough, we trained her on the whole Saturday/Sunday ritual. She came downstairs with Daddy on Saturdays so mommy could sleep. Then on Sundays, she came downstairs with Mommy so Daddy could sleep.

Now we've got baby Eliza and she is not respectful of the previously established weekend routine. She is like clockwork; she wakes up about 6am, realizes she is hungry and starts cooing until I come rescue her from her crib. These last few mornings I've brought her back to our bed to eat so I can snuggle back under the covers and keep warm. Lance is one of the heaviest sleepers I know, so this doesn't bother him in the least. Sometimes he'll ask us to keep it down, but mostly he is completely unaware there is even a baby in the bed.

Soon enough, Eliza will be old enough to train. And I know that once she is, we'll get back on our weekend routines. But I also know, I'll be sad that she grew up so fast and is no longer this little snuggly baby who needs me first thing in the morning. So, for now, I'm awake at the crack of dawn and am okay with it, because it's for a good cause.

The Black One

When the cats are particularly bad, they are, for some reason referred to by their color rather than their name. I'm not sure when it started, probably when they were fresh kitties are were often bad. But last night, the black one got in *big* trouble.

I had a cat, Kitty and Lance had a cat, Mesa when we were friends and dating way back when. When we combined households, I had always hoped the cats would become friends but that never happened. Mesa tried to reach out to Kitty to be her friend, but Kitty always furry-paw beat her. (nobody had claws) A few years ago, Kitty got really sick and I had to let her go. She was 12, she had a good kitty life, but I took it hard because she was my kitty and I had had her forever. I think maybe a week went by before Lance told me to go to the rescue league and get a new kitty.

So I did. I looked at all their kitties and went in one of their "play rooms" with a dozen or so random ones to see who played and who snuggled and who caught my eye. I ended up deciding that I had to have two kitties, rather than the previously agreed upon one. On the way home, I came up with a ton of reasons why getting two kitties was a better idea; but the main reason was that they would play with one another rather than bothering the old Mesa cat.

When I brought George and Henry into the house, Mesa was very wary. She used to be the only animal, and over the years she had to watch us bring in Kitty, then Eleanor and now these new kitties. A few months after the kitties were added, we brought home puppy Franklin so Mesa was really hating life. She ended up spending most of her time in the basement or in any room that Franklin and the kitties were not because she didn't want to be harassed or bothered.

Now that we no longer have Franklin or Eleanor, the kitties have taken to ruling the roost. Mostly though, it is the black one. He will literally hunt Mesa. You can see him stalking her; tail swishing, body low to the floor and eyes never leaving her. She sits there growling the whole time because she knows as soon as she takes a step to get out of his path, it's on. He will chase her until he corners her. Then you hear these ugly kitty growly noises that sound like someone is being killed. They're not, but it sounds awful. The hunting has gotten worse these last couple weeks…I think it had something to do with Eleanor being unable to get up and separate them and now that she is gone, George is really pushing it. Henry will sometimes join in the hunt if he thinks it is going to be especially fun, but most of the time he just sits and stares at her. Wearing her down with his gaze.

So, the last couple nights we've tried to put George and Henry in the basement so they can't hunt her while we're trying to sleep. It sucks being woken up by all the sounds associated with a hunt. But the crafty black one was able to get out of the basement around midnight. Its hard to say if he was proud of himself or upset with us, but he meowed for all he was worth in the upstairs hallway, just outside all the bedroom doors. He meowed so much and so loudly that he woke up Hannah and she called out "George is meowing now!!" Lance soothed her back to sleep while I had to jimmy-rig something to keep George in the basement the rest of the night.

I'm a little unsure how to proceed with this. I like when George and Henry sleep on my feet at night so I'd rather they not be locked up. But Mesa has decided she'd like to resume sleeping on our feet like she used to, pre-dog. And right now, nobody can get along. At least at night, because there are plenty of times when I'll come upon all three cats sleeping peacefully on our bed during the day and think, wtf? Why can't you do this at night?!

The Bond of Sisters

I have 6 brothers and sisters, 3 of each. My mom was married to some guy while at the same time my dad was married to some lady. Ironically, they were building their respective families at pretty much the same time and then everybody divorced. My parents met and along came me. So, technically my siblings are "half" but I've never referred to them as such; they're my brothers and sisters. Because of the way our family happened, there is a fourteen year difference between me and the youngest-older sibling. I know they are all much closer with each other because they grew up with one another. I am as close as I can be with them, given our age gap and the way life has happened. But I see the way really close sisters are with each other and I can't help but be a little envious and want my girls to have that same connection.

When Hannah met Eliza for the first time, I saw that bond begin to form. And every day since then, it has grown and strengthened. Eliza lights up when she hears her sister come into the room and she'll start looking around for her. I love watching Eliza's face as she watches Hannah. She looks at her with such awe and love, it is beautiful. Eliza has started reaching for Hannah as well, wanting to be snuggled and held and kissed by her. And every time, Hannah is already reaching out to hold her.

I am not sure how others do it, but I encouraged Hannah's desire to hold Eliza from the very beginning. Hannah was constantly asking to hold Eliza and kiss her. Even when she was itty bitty and would cry, Hannah would look at me very serious-like and declare that "Eliza needs Hannah now, here..I hold her." Hannah often speaks for Eliza, she seemed to get a grasp on the different cries before even I did. Hannah knows when Eliza is tired, wet, hungry, or just wants a snuggle. It is amazing.

Just the other day, Hannah was in her room playing while I was feeding Eliza in another room. Eliza had pulled away and made her "I'm finished" noise, which isn't a cry so much as a contented sigh. Hannah hollers out from her room, "Eliza all done boob now!" I had to chuckle, because she was right. Actually, Hannah is pretty much always right when it comes to what Eliza needs. It warms my heart to see them with one another, and gives me a glimpse into their future as a strong pair of sisters. I love it.

On a Break

Lance got home from his work trip last night, so he and I finally had time together to talk things over. Once we'd put Eleanor to sleep, he came home, packed his bag, gave me some hug-time and left town. So, last night was his first chance to really see the house as it is now, quiet. He was lucky in a way, getting to leave town and not have to be constantly reminded that there is no dog waiting for your food droppings or wanting to lay on the floor by your feet…

So, I started talking right away once the girls were in bed. I told him how these last couple days had been so hard on me; that every time I left the house or came back home or came downstairs or was in the kitchen, I felt the absence of Eleanor. I don't even know how many times a day I would tell her to "stop licking", she had this thing about licking her paws and I had this thing about not wanting to hear it. I also spent a lot of time just generally messing with her. Lance said I picked on her, I say she enjoyed it…it was like a playful banter between us. I'd have something she wanted, like a piece of sandwich and she'd be looking at me with that look of "OMG, I need that really really bad, puh-lease can I have it?" And I'd look at her and say, "ooooh, this is soooo gooooood, would you like some? mmmmmmm" She would of course always get a bite of whatever it was, I just had to drag it out a little…you know, make her work for it :)

But I told Lance that I want another dog. I don't want one right now, but I do want one right now. I want to fill this empty spot in my heart and my house. But at the same time I know it wouldn't be right to get another dog right now. We need time to grieve Eleanor and any dog we get now would just always be compared to her, no matter how hard we tried not to. If we would have had our backup dog, we wouldn't be in this position, but we don't so now we're in the spot of having to discuss another dog.

Lance though, surprised me with his thoughts last night. He doesn't really want another dog any time soon. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, he was always the one to take care of the dogs. I don't scoop poop. I did the daytime potties and all the regular maintenance (ear cleaning, brushing, pills, flea medicines, nails, etc.), but he did the training, the walking, the scooping, all the heavy stuff. I suppose it will be nice to not have to worry about any of that, especially now that we have two small children. But it will still be weird.

I grew up with dogs. As a kid, we always them. Always. My baby pictures have dogs in them. (Tippy and Casey) Even now, mom has a dog. She's a shit, but she's mom's dog. Lance didn't have dogs when he was little, but when his parents split, his dad got a dog and has had one or two ever since. I know every family is different, some embrace dogs, some don't. For Lance, I will let this go and accept that we're on a break. A break from having dogs in our home. It saddens me, but it is what it is. So if you see me out with Hannah and I'm with-holding food from her, teasing her about how goooooood it is, you know why.

Pizza Crust

I have never eaten my pizza crust. Well, maybe a few times if the pizza was particularly good, but usually the crust is just a waste of my time. As a kid, I always passed my crust over to mom. Sometimes she'd eat it, sometimes she'd just throw it away for me. I didn't really care, I just didn't want it on my plate.

Once I moved out of mom's house and was living on my own, I gave my crust to Larry. I remember the first time we were eating pizza together. I had a little pile of uneaten crust on my plate and wasn't going to just ask if someone wanted to eat it, but when Larry said "you gonna eat that?" I knew I'd found my pizza partner :) Even after Lance came into the picture, Larry always had dibs on my crust when we ate together.

When we got Eleanor, Larry lost his pizza partner status. All crusts went to Eleanor. I remember Larry having a bit of a hard time sharing crusts with our dog, but it was Eleanor and so he did. She didn't outright beg, but she gave you the look of "omg, I'm starving and if you just give me one bite, I'll love you forever." Amazing how much they can convey in one look.

Yesterday, I made a frozen pizza for myself and Hannah for lunch. I hadn't really thought about it as I was making it, it wasn't until I saw Hannah reach the end of her slice and get to the crust that I choked up because I knew what was coming. I fully expected her to get up and go give the crust to Eleanor or start asking me where Eleanor was. But she didn't. She just handed me her crust and said "here mommy, you can have my crust now." Each little piece she finished, she handed the crust off to me. At the end of our lunch, I had a pile of crust on my plate and I was at a loss.

I threw away the pizza crust. It was a small action but it had such emotion attached to it… I've also had to bend over and pick up every little piece of food I randomly drop on the floor throughout the day. I know I'm messy, everyone knows I'm messy. I just haven't had to be concerned with my messiness in the last 10 years because I had Eleanor to follow behind me and clean it up. She'd hear something hit the floor and she'd be on it. This morning as I was picking up the cereal I'd spilled all I could think was, damn.

Backup

I've always been one to have backup, as long as I can afford it, I have a backup of it. Backup applesauce, backup toilet paper, backup parmesan cheese…you'd think I lived through the Great Depression with the amount of backup I sometimes have. But, I hate the idea of running out of something, or being caught without when you really need it. Today, having a backup is actually considered cool and is more commonly referred to as "stockpiling." But, I was Country, When Country Wasn't Cool.

When Eleanor was 3 years old, Lance and I were already thinking ahead to the sad day when we would lose her. She was a mix of Mastiff and Rottweiler, breeds that both tend to have a lifespan much shorter than your average lab or retriever. Unfortunately, the larger the dog, the shorter the time you have with them. And considering Eleanor had blown out her ACL in both knees as a puppy, we knew that was taking even more time away from us. So, we decided we would get a 2nd dog that would not only keep Eleanor company, but would serve as a sort of "backup" for when we lost her. Those who have dogs, will understand our logic and will undoubtedly observe that same age-staggering practice.

But, Franklin messed up our plan. As Eleanor aged and became less able to stand her ground with him, he turned into a big, fat bully. We had to make that sad but necessary decision to re-home him. Eleanor after all, was our first dog and we knew she wasn't going to be around too much longer. It wasn't right to ask her to live out the rest of her life always under fire from Franklin. I was and still am sad to have moved Franklin out of our home, but now I'm angry with him. He messed up our plan. He was supposed to be here to help us grieve our loss of Eleanor and he isn't. Instead we're left with the cats and they have not stepped up to the plate. In fact, today I couldn't even find any of them when I wanted a little fur-snuggle.

Don't get me wrong, I love my cats. In fact I was a cat person long before I became a dog person, but it is apples and oranges. Never have George or Henry come to lay their head in my lap as I cried, nor have they given me the look that says, "it's okay, I'm here for you." I miss that look. I expect later this evening when Henry is ready, he'll come lay on my lap and purr while I pet him. And I'll take it. But I would rather have had my backup dog ready to dry my eyes and keep me company during the long, quiet, lonely day that was today.