Car Horns and the Bird

I'm not a horn tooter. In fact, before I hit the horn in any car I think about my actions. Of course, this overthinking can be a bit dangerous as that split second could be the difference between getting hit by another car or avoiding a collision. But I can't help it - I think horns are rude.

It seems there should be three different tunes on a car horn - one for an urgent warning as in "Let's avoid having an accident," one for "The light has turned green, it's time to stop talking to your passenger and start going," and one for "Hey Jodi, the mail carrier, how are you doing?" Notice I don't think there should be a rude tune - but that goes back to how I think our society, in general, has become overtly rude and immature in recent years.

Which brings me to yesterday's horn event. I was driving Dave's monster suburban and was second in line at a busy stoplight. The driver in front of me was enthusiastically engaged in conversation with his passenger and frankly, my mind was also otherwise engaged as I was thinking I should join Dave on his upcoming trip to Acalpulco (another story).

The stoplight turned green and the driver in front of me was still engaged in conversation. I waited and counted to three, looked in the rearview mirror at a long line of cars, and raised my hand to the horn and paused ... should I or shouldn't I? I looked again and the driver was still talking to his passenger, oblivious to the green light.

So I tapped the horn and a short toot emerged from somewhere under the trunk of the car. The driver looked up, started going and just as I was congratulating myself on a successful honk, flipped me the bird.

I was shocked. I raised my hands in a "What's that all about gesture?!" and proceeded to follow the driver as he turned into a strip mall. I wanted to explain myself - that if I could have done a polite honk, I certainly would have, but there was no need to flip me off. I'm not a honker for goodness sakes.

I followed him the length of the strip mall - at which point I remembered I was in Dave's enormous, could-be-perceived-as-menacing suburban. And the bird thrower wasn't stopping anyways, he kept going through the mall parking lot.

So I turned the car around and drove home, taking the back roads, just to be safe. When I told Dave the story he just looked at me, shook his head and said, "Do you have do to that kind of stuff when you're driving my car?!"

We've come a long way baby

This picture is of John at seven months - our happy baby who looked like he must just hurt. The baby who couldn't sleep for more than a few hours before he woke up itchy. The baby who had at least one bath a day (without soap) for his first year of life - just so his skin could stay hydrated.

John was first diagnosed with eczema at his two month checkup, but until that point it was manageable. But from the time he was 2 1/2 months until we figured out he was allergic to the cassein in milk and dogs at about eight months, he pretty much looked like the picture above. We tried everything - from Aveeno products to Crisco vegetable shortening... I know, I know but we were desperate. His daily regiment consisted of a lukewarm bath followed immediately by a "patting dry" followed immediately by an antibiotic ointment followed by a coritsone ointment or else protopic, followed by a slathering of aquaphor. We only used All Free laundry detergent, avoided fabric softeners all together and he only wore 100% cotton clothing. I was nursing so I gave up all dairy and all citrus. Nothing seemed to help.

Until, finally, at seven months we did allergy testing. At that point we found out John was allergic to dogs and the cassein in milk. I quit nursing and we tried Alimentum formula - which he actually drank even though it smelled nasty. After Dasher, our twelve-year-old cocker spaniel, died in her sleep we got all the rugs, upholstry and carpets professionally cleaned. And, within a few weeks of those changes, John was better. Better as in we could see his beautiful round cheeks without the weeping sores for the first time since he was only a few months old.

He still breaks out - especially his hands during this time of year when he's playing hockey - but he just knows it means we need to slather his hands with aquaphor and he needs to wear all cotton socks to bed for a few nights in a row. We've learned that the antibacterial gels that so many people use in place of washing hands do not work at all for him - they cause his hands to become almost raw. And we still use the Robathol bath oil once in a while - if nothing else but to give him incredibly soft skin.

What's most amazing though is that he drinks milk all the time now - and eats yogurt. And we got a dog - granted one that is supposed to be non-shedding (not always the case at our house) and hypo-allergenic. And even though Dakota does shed a bit it's pretty amazing to see how John just snuggles right into her furry belly and rubs his face all around her - and there's not a wheeze, not a dry patch, not anything.

Overall, I'd say we're pretty fortunate.

Introducing The Scoobys

Since the kids were small they've loved to watch Scooby-Doo movies. If we allowed it they'd have a Scooby-Doo marathon - watching movies and episodes until there weren't any more left to watch. I'm not sure where they get it - neither Dave nor I were big Scooby-Doo fans in our days

I took the girls to Target yesterday to spend their Christmas and birthday gift cards and they chose, you guessed it, a Scooby-Doo movie. John was elated with their choice and they all immediately sat down to watch it. Then today they formed a basement band called The Scoobys. They made microphones, fashioned guitars out of plastic hockey sticks and bathrobe belts, and decorated wooden rulers with glitter glue for drumsticks. John and Sophie are the guitarists, but John really rocks with him homemade amplifier (made out of black construction paper and hooked to his guitar with red yarn). Sophie is the lead singer and knows every word to the four Scooby-Doo songs they sang while Lucy had two roles: drummer and keyboardist.

The three members of The Scoobys believe in playing as you are - so they were in their pajamas with uncombed hair (and I'm sure, unbrushed teeth) for the entire day. Dave and I were treated to a concert performance intermingled with Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island footage.

It was all pretty wonderful - and I hate to admit it, but I even somewhat enjoyed the movie.

On cold days my office is...

HERE!

The fire has been going since before lunch and, as you can see, I've got a nice stack of wood that should last me into the night. A fire always beats the space heater in my regular office - go ahead, bring on the cold.

Stop and smell the flowers...

As you may have guessed my Republican husband wasn't in as joyful of mood as others around him yesterday. He wasn't overtly grumpy and did listen to some of the inauguration as he worked but let's just say I walked a little on eggshells around him. He gave a smirk, as in a "Maybe there's hope yet for Marci" smirk, when I read about a local elected official who attended the shoethrowing fest at the White House and started ranting about the immaturity of it all. But he knows me, and I know him and neither one of us is going to change the mind of the other. So, as usual when it comes to politics, we called a truce.

In the early evening hours I ran some errands after dropping Sophie off at ballet. As I loaded the groceries into the car I spotted an old friend stepping out of hers. Laurie's was the classroom in which I completed my dissertation research, she is the one I worked with to collaborate between the local school district and the writing project to offer inservice to teachers, her daughter was one of my grad students in reading education at UND, and just this past summer her son married Michelle, our very favorite babysitter. And in November, her husband suddenly died of a heart attack while playing basketball.

I shut the car door, called out and walked across the parking lot to her where we embraced in a hug that meant so much. You see, at Neil's prayer service I didn't give her a hug because there were oh-so-many people waiting in line to console her. I hugged and cried with Heather and Michelle but didn't have an opportunity to speak with Laurie.

In the cold and damp air we spoke and hugged and spoke and even laughed for about ten minutues - then I was off to my car and she walked to her shopping. And on the way home I stopped at the Flower Bug and bought some flowers for my Republican husband. I know the day wasn't an easy one for him, and I'm sure as a small business owner he'll be disappointed and even frustrated in the years to come, but he's here with me and me with him. And we're so lucky to have that.

Let's be a bit more mature...

What's wrong with us that we can't respect the presidency? Read this, laugh if you want, but then take a step back and think about how immature supposedly mature people can be.

I felt the same way at the 2001 inauguration when Dave and I were in the crowd with a group of friends. When the voice over the loudspeaker announced President Clinton's car the crowd booed and booed and booed. Some of our friends even booed and I think they were taken aback with me when I scolded them and told them to at least respect the office - you may not agree with the man (or hopefully, someday, woman) holding the office but please, please don't boo or throw shoes.

And by the way, I voted for Obama. Don't think I'm disgusted because I'm a sore loser.

More Kid Malapropisms

On the way to the ballet on Saturday night John was most interested in the concession stand and asked, "Can we get popcorn during the interference?" To which I replied, "Uh, no... that would be intermission John, and yes you can."

Two things - can you tell he had hockey practice earlier in the day? And secondly, aren't we lucky we get to munch on popcorn while watching classical ballet?

Sleeping Beauty

One would think that after five performances in three days and 30 dances, Sophie would be a bit tired of dancing. Well, she's not - nor is Lucy who did four performances with one beautiful dance in each. Nor am I - who sat through countless hours of practice and performances last week. But there's something much different about sitting in a comfortable chair in our own living room, with coffee in hand, watching the girls dance than watching from a theater audience.

As my friend Michelle best put it, I'm feeling a bit nostaligic about the whole ballet thing. Our girls have usually been some of the youngest - I remember watching Sophie and Lucy at some of their first ballet practices and telling another mom, as we laughed until tears came to our eyes, that watching preschoolers do ballet was the best kind of therapy available.

It's still therapy for me, watching them dance, but another kind. The therapy that involves coming to terms with myself as a parent and learning to let go. Even as Sophie has joined the Apprentice Company I have struggled with it - the girls are all older, most of them have cell phones, , they wear short shorts to practice, they talk about boys. I don't want her to grow up too fast. At the same time she's made good choices - she and McKenzie (the girl closest to her age who knows the ropes as she was in Apprentice last year) have become good friends. And when I see her in practice - her look of determination and the way she has challenged herself to do better and better each week, the way she moves and how different it is from even six months ago - I am so very proud of her.

In the meantime we still have a year or two before Lucy moves up to the Apprentice level and the older girls. And then she will hopefully have a peer group that moves up with her and it won't seem so scary for me. And I'll have learned that it is ok, that it's wonderful, to have the girls grow up and become independent.

By the way, the ballet was beautiful - the North Dakota Ballet Company did yet another outstanding job with bringing classical ballet to our small town. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Radiator Warmth

There's nothing quite like sliding your hand into the warmth of a mitten that's been sitting on a radiator.  Unless it's putting on a hat that's been sitting on a radiator.  Or maybe if it's the feeling of dipping your feet into the warmth of boots that have been sitting at the bottom of a radiator.

We've got two radiators by the back door and from November until mid-April they're constantly covered in hats, mittens, gloves and sometimes scarves.  Our radiator habit started at the old house when the kids were small.  After an afternoon of playing outside they'd come in with wet hats,mittens,scarves, coats and snowpants - and all that outside gear went right on top of the eight foot long radiator in the living room or the four foot one in the dining room.  In no time at all everything would be dry and ready to be hung up again.

But when we moved here four years ago things changed.  The longest radiator in the house measures only three feet and is in John's bedroom so coats and snowpants now go in the dryer to dry while the hats and gloves go on top of the two radiators by the back door.  It always looks like a mess in that back hall but all I need to do to take my mind off it is slide my cold hands into a pair of mittens and the mess is forgotten.

Squirting Flavor

In this household of five people, three of the five are extremely picky.  That would be Dave, Lucy and John - with Dave and Lucy being the worst.  It wouldn't be so bad if they all were picky about the same types of foods, but that's not the case.  Dave dislikes anything with onion, tomato, or peppers but will occassionally eat tomato soup from a can and loves plain old meat and potatoes.  Lucy cannot stand any type of potato except French Fries and hashbrowns - yet I'll make Cheesy Hashbrowns and she won't eat them.  John basically frowns and complains about anything I make - except pizza.  But at least he'll usually eat the food on his plate whereas Lucy has gagged and thrown up on more than one occassion at the dinner table.  It's to the point where Dave and I look at each other and smile as she starts gagging on her potatoes.  (Just so you know I'm not a totally awful parent, the first ten or so times she gagged I rubbed her back and talked her through it.  See, I'm not all bad.)

But I'm tired of cooking and having at least one person complain about it. Even as one complains, another is happy about the meal.  For example, I made Grandpa's Goulash (spaghetti noodles, tomato soup, and hamburger) recipe this weekend - Sophie was ecstatic while John and Lucy complained.  Dave, smart man, kept quiet.

It's been a long week here - with temperatures never seeming to reach above -20 degrees, Dave away in Philadelphia, and ballet practice going on three hours a night/each night. Throughout it I've been very conscious of making a good supper to last the girls through ballet practice. Last night it was chicken stew with dumplings - a hearty and warm meal, right?!

There were complaints all around. The dumplings had parsley in them (yes, I realized the parsley was a mistake the minute I added it to the flour) and there were corn and peas in the stew. And as Lucy said, "Didn't you know we didn't like this last time we had it? It was Dakota who liked it." (That's another story.)

Sophie at least ate most of it - her chief complaint being the dumplings didn't look the same as when she'd made them and they didn't taste as good either. But I was pretty frustrated with Lucy and John - and resorted to the timer. They had five minutes to eat and whatever they ate in that five minutes was all they got to eat for the rest of the night. They started eating - and talking - and eating.

As I washed the pots, I heard John say he wished there weren't such things as peas because they didn't have any flavor. And then he added, "But at least you can't taste them." To which Lucy replied, "They squirt though - they squirt flavor."

With my back to the kids I smiled - she had it right. Peas do squirt flavor and I, for one, love that squirt of flavor. Hopefully, one day she and John will too. In the meantime I'll just keep trying... and trying... and trying.

Climbing Club

Lucy on the Wall
John on the Wall

(Sophie missed the first two classes due to Sleeping Beauty ballet recitals - watch out on Monday!)

While visiting Nicole at Vail last fall I got to see a group of kids in action during their climbing club. At this particular class the kids were climbing up and down the wall as many times as they could trying to raise money for books in poverty-stricken countries. Now that's a fundraiser I can agree with on many levels - kids exercising both their bodies and minds AND literacy. C'mon - you can't get any better than that in my eyes.

Watching ten-year-old Susan climb (and even ballay me as I climbed)inspired me and I got to thinking how we could do a Climbing Club for Kids in Grand Forks. As soon as we got back I stopped by the Northern Heights Climbing Gym and talked to some of the guys there about the idea. You know it's a good idea when they were thinking the exact same thing.

SO that's where the kids are - Monday nights from 6:45-8:00 - at the climbing gym exercising minds and bodies at the same time. Now all we need is the literacy aspect.

To Done List: January 12, 2008

Remember my friend Corby's to done list idea? The object is to feel a sense of accomplishment from what you got done during the day rather than focus on what didn't get done.

So here's today's list - not as extensive as others but keep in mind I spent two - count 'em TWO - hours on the phone today with Mom and Theresa.

1. Stripped three beds at 817.
2. Washed sheets, towels and bath rug from 817.
3. Made up the beds.
4. Edited flyers for Davey-baby to take with him on his trip to Philadelphia.
5. Emailed flyer to Kinko's.
6. Purchased Christmas postcards and Reindeer finger puppets at Kinko's while I waited for the flyers to print.
7. Booked a flight to Edmonton to visit Theresa and her family.
8. Picked up asthma meds for John.
9. Mailed letters for Dave.
10. Deposited checks for Dave.
11. Kept the kitchen clean.
12. Walked to the greenway with Dakota and went cross-country skiing.
13. Sat on a chair in my office with my feet up, space heater on and blanket covering me for two hours - and talked on the phone.
14. Bought $42 worth of makeup - $42 worth!!! - for Sophie for the Cinderella ballet this weekend. Do you realize I haven't spent $42 on makeup for myself over the last three years put together?!?!
15. Picked up Sophie, Lucy and John from school.
16. Sent John off to a playdate with Oliver.
17. Fed Sophie and Lucy snack while we practiced putting makeup on Sophie.
18. Told Sophie she looks more beautiful without makeup than with it on - at least the way I'm able to put it on.
19. Put Lucy's hair in a bun.
20. Took Lucy to ballet.
21. Helped John look for his hockey sock - never did find it.
22. Told a neighbor she could use the suburban to pick up her husband whose car stalled by the Canadian border.
23. Heated up leftovers - fed everyone.
24. Went with Dave, Sophie, and John to drop John off at hockey practice.
25. Dropped Sophie off at ballet practice.
26. Picked up Lucy from ballet.
27. Fed Lucy in the car.
28. Picked up copies from Kinko's. Dave left me there while he got John - hence the extra buying splurge mentioned in #6.
29. Dropped off John and Lucy at the climbing wall for climbing lessons.
30. Shopped at KMart with Dave - vitamins and mittens for the kids.
31. Took Dave home so he could rest before his 4:40 am flight.
32. Watched the last of John and Lucy's climbing lesson - took some pics.
33. Asked the kids how proud we would have been of them and their listening if we would have been there. Unfortunately their answers left something to be desired - we'll try again next week.
34. Dropped off John and Lucy at home with Dave.
35. Watched the last of Sophie's ballet practice.
36. Drove Sophie home.
37. Made her some peanut butter toast and kissed her goodnight.
38. Sat with Dave for a few minutes.
39. Talked with our neighbors about their car - not good news for them.
40. Kissed the sleeping kids goodnight.
41. Checked my email for the first time today.
42. Wrote this blog entry...
and now I'm ready for bed.

If you made it this far, thanks for listening and keep in mind most afternoons and evenings here on Belmont Road are not like this.

Steph's Phone

Thanks to Odie and her great taste we've got this wonderful phone in our little kitchen cubby. Isn't it adorable? I was at her house a month ago and spied it on a storage shelf in her basement. I said something like, "Oh, look at that cool phone!" and before I knew it I was walking home with it cradled in my mittened hands.

It took a little bit of work to get it to fit right - I had to do a little painting in the cubby since there used to be door that hid the phone from view. And then we took off said door and put it back up on the other side. So there's still access to the phone via the coat closet and one can still technically sit on a bench in the closet and talk on the phone - if one can find a space to sit amongst all the backpacks and ballet bags. I have yet to do it, but I can tell from the scratchings on the metal laundry chute it's been done. (Lori O - can you give us any hints about that?!!)

The coat closet/booth itself reminds me of my Delta Gamma days and sitting in one of those phone booths making a date with Dave. Or worriedly walking by a shut phone booth door, hearing occasional sobs and wondering about the relationship or family drama going on behind closed doors. Let's just hope there's none of that to come in the phone booth here on Belmont Road. Seriously, there's drama enough in our lives. Remember that Sophie, Lucy and John!

P.S. Thanks so much Odie - as soon as you find a wall jack we'll get it back to you. :)

Dressed for outside hockey

Here's John - and no he hasn't gained a lot of weight around his tummy - all ready for outdoor hockey practice. They play even if it's below zero so he has his winter coat on in lieu of shoulder pads and elbow pads. What a cutie.

Comfort Keeper

I couldn't sleep last night - from 2:05 until 5:30 I lay awake asking myself, "When did John stop being my little boy?" I don't know the answer but it's apparently come on slowly enough that I didn't see it coming. Then, last night, at precisely 2:05 it hit me.

Lucy had a fever and was home sick from school yesterday so when I heard the attic door open and footsteps come up the stairs at 2 am last night I just assumed one of the kids wasn't feeling well. I forced open my eyes to see John at the corner of the stairs and as I prepared to hold out my arms for him I saw him bypass me and head to the other side of the bed. Admittedly, I was somewhat OK with that - after all, it meant Dave got to deal with a sick child. But then I heard him snuggle in with Dave and murmur, "I had a nightmare."

I instantly became fully awake. Wait a minute - if it's a nightmare aren't I the one to provide comfort? Aren't I the one to hold the child tight in my arms and nuzzle my mouth into that sleepy head full of hair and whisper, "It's OK, Mama's here. It was just a dream. Mama's here."

Granted, the instant Dave told John everything was OK and let him go John rounded back to my side of the bed and gave me a hug as well. I held him tight and resisted the urge to have him lay in bed with us for a bit. Instead, I told him to start down the stairs and I'd come tuck him back in. He did and I did. But even then, he was already in bed with the covers pulled tight heading back to his own dreamworld.

I went back upstairs and crawled into bed but I couldn't sleep. When did this happen? When did he start looking to Dave for comfort more than me? I'm not jealous, really I'm not. But I feel a sort of sadness that my time as the main comforter is up - my little boy is growing up. Maybe it'll come back around again at some point - but who knows.

The whole thing is I'm happy for Dave and for our kids. They all know love for one another in an unconditional way. They know that even though Dave might get grumpy at them for not listening the first time or for coming downstairs after they should have been in bed he still loves them and will always be there for them. That even though he travels around the country quite a bit we're not far from his thoughts when he's gone.

When he's home, he's really home. And that's not just because he works out of 817. It's because he's present. His presence is in the way their vitamins are on the kitchen table every morning and the way vegetables make their way to that same table at suppertime. It's in the booming "Good morning" we hear as he sees us for the first time each day. It's how he gets up early and goes to work at 817 and then makes his way back over here before school starts and even walks with us to school a few days a week. And it's in the "I love you" voiced each night. It's no wonder John sought Dave for comfort last night... we should all have such a Dave in our lives.

I'm so glad I do.

Dakota's First Christmas

Santa McSqueaker (the third in a series of McSqueakers Dakota has been through)

For the first time in our history the kids took money from their piggybanks and used it to buy presents for family and friends. In the past I've taken two of them out to buy for the third and then two others, etc... and Dave and I have always paid for each gift. But this year, with no prodding from either parent, they chose to use their own money. There was no rhyme or reason for who they bought for or why - they were just totally into the idea of giving.

Dave took them out shopping while I read by the fire and the minute they got home the wrapping began. By day's end the tree skirt was filled with gifts full of heart and childish delight.

So who, you wonder, got the most presents? I think it was a probably a tie between Dakota and me... although you would be correct if you assume I've taken better care of my presents than Dakota. Let's just say for about a minute after these pictures were taken we were afraid she'd eaten the squeaker inside of Santa.

It's all about the coffee, isn't it?

Even though I'm basically the only coffee drinker in our family I always make, at minimum, an eight-cup pot of coffee each morning. I do this for several reasons - such as I always seem to misplace my coffee cup or else I know where it is but it's too cold to drink. I have no qualms about microwaving my coffee to warm it up - but you can only microwave the same coffee so many times before it starts to get bitter. Trust me, I've done it. Repeatedly.

Most of my "stop over during the day friends" are big coffee drinkers too - so it pays to always keep the coffee on. But along with the moniker of "big coffee drinker" comes "picky coffee drinker" and trust me, my coffee is not anything to write home about. I can, at times, make an excellent cup - one that is strong and smooth and makes my day. Other days, well, let's just say, "Not so much."

I don't know what it is. I try to make it the same way every day. I've experimented with tap water, with filtered water and with all different kinds of coffee. But it just doesn't work. The first cup doesn't really matter to me - I think just about anything would taste good to me at that point. But by the time friends come over I'm way past that first cup, as are they.

Luckily for me I spent a few days in Cando over New Year's Eve and discovered the perfect solution had been under my nose hiding in Katie's Lazy Susan for the past few years. On each of the three mornings I was there I created my very own latte with her pot and frother from Williams Sonoma. But it wasn't until I took the kids to Kim and Pat's for coffee that I saw a single cup pod/K-cup setup could be useful. I always thought that the best way to serve company was via the pot - but I was oh-so-wrong. The coffee from her Keurig machine was perfectly perfect. And then again, the next day, at Heather and Paul's house - my cup of joe made from a Hazelnut K-cup was fabulous.

But still, I wasn't convinced. Wouldn't it be more expensive to only buy the K-cups? Did they have some of my favorite blends - such as Green Mountain Breakfast Blend? And what about when people brought me coffee for a gift - what would I do with those beans anyway? Heather, and the good people at Keurig, had the perfect solution: a filter assembly called, My K-Cup, where you put in your own freshly ground coffee.

So I'm converted - and I just got notice this afternoon that my very own Keurig coffee pot has been shipped. I'm sure you'll all be able to hear my shout of triumph in the wee hours of the morning sometime later this week... keep your ears open wide.

Just for you Grandma Bev and Grandpa James...

Christmas Morning 2008: Recipe for a wonderful day

1. Run to 817 to look for the presents from you.

2. See the presents on the conference table.

3. Jump for joy and excitement.

Thank you so much! We love you - Sophie, Lucy and John

We "breathe" skating in North Dakota

In case you didn't know - it doesn't matter what the temperature is in North Dakota because outdoor skating is always available. The other night Carmyn and I braved the below zero actual temperature to shop some post-Christmas sales while Dave and the kids braved the outdoor rink and -30 below windchills shopping for some exercise. Fortunately, none of us were any worse for the wear - not even the checkbook.

Check out the breath clouds in the pics - no wonder my glasses always fog up in the winter.