How Can I Control My Life if I Can't Control My Hair?

When a Child is Here...and Then They Are Not

2012-01-24T12:55:00.002-07:00

Before Finn was diagnosed with leukemia, I didn't really think about kids dying.

And then, unfortunately, we saw it all too often.

It's horrible on every level.

Let's face it: death in and of itself isn't the greatest, but there are different levels of grieving and horribleness when someone dies. It was incredibly sad when my three grandparents died (I've got one still alive and kicking madly at 98!) at their various ages, but they had all lived long, full lives--we should all be so lucky. I hope I'M that lucky, in fact.

But when a child dies. Well, I'm at a loss.

Yesterday morning as Declan sat crunching his Honey Nut Cheerios, we had the unhappy task of telling him that a boy from his school died on Sunday. A 13-year old boy he knew, who was one year ahead of him at his very small school, died in an inbound avalanche at the same time we were enjoying a fantastic family ski day.

I cannot wrap my head around this tragedy. This family is from our end of the valley--our town. We have many mutual friends. This boy went to Declan's school. I saw his mother in the post office last week. We were skiing at that very time (different mountain). And now they are grieving.

It could be anyone. I thought maybe I was over that "so close to home" sensation that I experienced so often when Finn was sick (and even now), but apparently that doesn't ever really go away. It just takes on different forms.

Hug your kids. And be grateful today.

I Am Almost Brilliant

2012-01-05T19:53:00.004-07:00

I have to tell you, I am the most brilliant blogger at about 11pm when I'm going to bed. But you'll never actually know this.

Why?

I get in bed. I turn off the light. I settle in. And then a whole bunch of blogging ideas come to me. And I think, "That would make the funniest blog. I'll blog about it tomorrow."

Then I go to sleep and when I wake up the next morning, if I even remember that I had a good idea, I have no idea what it was. What was that? What WAS that?

Drives me nuts.

A few years ago I did start keeping a pen and paper next to my bed for such situations. Where that really came in handy was when I went to bed and then thought of things I needed to do for work the next day. I found quickly jotting things down helped me clear my head and be able to sleep.

So then I figured I should do the same thing for potential blog topics. If I had an amazing idea as I went to sleep, I could quickly write it down so I could be witty upon awakening.

But here's the thing: I feel bad about turning the light back on and waking up Eamonn. So I decided I would write my notes to myself in the dark.

But here's the thing: I've discovered I can't really read what I wrote in the dark. Imagine that.

If I did write about what I wrote, today you would apparently have read something to do with trash cans. Alas, I'm not really sure what about trash cans I was planning to discuss with you. Also, someone's name, I'm not sure whose, is on my note page. Was I planning to blog about someone in the trash can? Am I looking for a way to dispose of a body?

(Note: According to the show Live with Kelly, how to dispose of a body is one of the top questions people ask Siri on their iPhone 4s. Maybe I was planning on doing this in my sleep. Whether it's me or someone else, the whole thought is disturbing on many levels. Can you imagine, "Siri, where can I dispose of a body? And while you're at it, how should I make sure I don't get caught?" What the heck?)

One thing is clear: I need a new system. Again. Perhaps I should put a headlamp next to my bed. Or just turn on the light.

That Blur Was the Holidays

2011-12-30T09:35:00.005-07:00

(I'm writing this on a new laptop and the keyboard feels very different in terms of placement--it has an extended keypad--and how much pressure to use when you strike keys. There will be more typos than usual. Just a warning.)

First, a few pictures of our December:

The morning we went to get our tree, we made this gingerbread man. I don't know what we did wrong, but he was seriously dry and required dunking/drowning in hot chocolate to be edible.

Eamonn experiencing some technical difficulties with his snowshoes.

Out on the hunt for the tree. We came across this fallen tree. These are its roots.

We're messing around, taking pictures on my phone and waiting for Eamonn who has used a fallen tree to actually cross water to get to The Perfect Tree that we could see way off yonder. We can see him cutting it down in the distance and now we're waiting for him to come back and ford the stream again, this time with our tree.

Eamonn trying to get back across the water WITH the tree. He made it! There was a bit of excitement when his foot went through the ice at one point, but he didn't need 10 toes anyway. Most people can get by without a few, right?

Snowshoeing back to the car. I wonder if snowshoeing is actually a word?

Enjoying hot chocolate and stale gingerbread after the tree hunt

Cookies for Santa

The holidays are nearly over. Is this what happens? Life just speeds up to a pace where I can no longer keep track of time? Truly, I thought I'd blogged last week so I was a little shocked when I came over here and saw Dec. 13. Heck, the kids weren't even out of school yet at that point and now they go back next week!

The holidays were busy and fun, for the most part. The fun parts were baking cookies with the boys and then my mom and Tara once they got here; watching lots of Christmas movies; listening to Christmas music until I drove everyone crazy; seeing the lights and decorations around town; taking a day before the boys were out of school to wrap everything (although our printer died and that didn't go exactly as planned); dealing with the post office--oh wait, that's goes on the UnFun List.

The UnFun was definitely dealing with our post office. Those of you on Facebook know of my loathing for our post office. And really, many people have the same issue, but I feel like it's magnified here because we don't have any home mail delivery at all. And even if you order something and the vendor says it's coming UPS or FedEx, it may STILL end up held hostage at the post office. But I'll stop talking about that because it puts me in a very UnHoliday mood.

The end.

Other unfun stuff--I weighed myself this morning. EEEEEEEEEK! Were you aware that if you don't exercise and eat too many Christmas cookies it's bad news? I was lying in bed this morning playing a little game of "How Bad Do I Think It Will Really Be?" I hadn't weighed myself in weeks. I was in denial. So I made up a number in my head. I shot high because I figured if it was lower, I'd be so happy.

It wasn't.

Yikes.

I'm trying to keep it in perspective. I'm where I was when I finished the weight loss challenge last spring, which is 10 pounds below where I was at this time last year. But still, I had lost more and have jumped up from that. Sigh. It was all in the name of Christmas cookies. Very delicious, yummy Christmas cookies.

I'll be chronicling my attempts to get back in gear on my other blog and also doing a challenge over there, I think starting in two weeks or so if anyone is interested.

So now we're in that post Christmas phase. Some presents have been put away, some are still on the floor. It's a bit here, there and everywhere. I'm trying to decide how motivated I am to take the decorations down this weekend. I usually like to bask in their glow for a bit longer and then take them down a week after New Year's so I'm good and sick of them and not sad to see them go.

Really, what needs to go at this point is the Christmas cookies. I'm going to see if I can go a whole day without eating any.

It's 9:52am. I'll let you know how it goes.

But at this point, as much as I hate to admit it, it's probably time for the boys to go back to school. The squabbling, which probably really isn't that bad, is bugging me. While the weather is lovely and they could get outside to play (if we drag them kicking and screaming), we don't have enough snow to sled or to make the skiing enjoyable. The town's outdoor rink probably suffered mightily in the warm sun yesterday. This happened last year--no snow--and it was such a bummer. We had about 4 inches of snow a few days before Christmas, so that was nice, but nothing else and nothing on the horizon.

So it's probably best for all concerned that school resume. You know, so we don't kill each other. That would be a terrible way to end the holidays, now wouldn't it?

Happy News!

2011-12-13T16:52:00.003-07:00

Just got a call from the surgeon. My pathology report was all clear!

Thanks, everyone, for your kind words and support!

Now it's back to business as usual!

Preoccupied

2011-12-12T22:01:00.003-07:00

All fall I've not felt the love for blogging. It's not that I don't love all of you--I do, I really, really do--I just feel boring lately.

It's a drag.

I'll tell you what else is a drag, having a 3 inch chunk of skin taken out of your upper right arm along with four lymph nodes.

Just for the record, I'm not a good patient. I'm feeling sorry for myself. But the surgery is over and I'm glad and I fully anticipate that the little melanoma that started all of this drama in October will not have spread.

Let me back up just a tad because the last you knew of the melanoma, I was having it removed on Nov. 8 in the dermatologist's office. Except that when I got to the dermatologist's office, she was not in agreement with my family doctor that we should just do a basic excision on my arm and call it good.

This set off a month-long saga of trying to decide what to do next. The cast of characters included my family doctor, two dermatologists, an oncologist, two surgeons, and a melanoma expert at the University of Colorado. Yes, I know. How many more people can I get involved with over a melanoma the size of the tip of a pen? Leave it to me.

To be fair, my lovely little melanoma had some unusual characteristics (OF COURSE IT DID!!!) that made it a bordeline case, and that's what was causing all of the debate. The excision was a sure thing--a bigger patch of skin had to come off. The part up for debate: to do a sentinel lymph node biopsy or not?

The docs were split on their decision.

In the end, after much deliberation and hand wringing--because I am at my very core, a wimp--I went with the excision with a bonus of sentinel lymph node biopsy. And that means that they injected me with radioactive dye to find the lymph node(s) nearest the melanoma site and they removed those for biopsy. I should have the results this week and of course, I will let you know.

But, as always, I've learned a few things along the way and I will freely impart my knowledge upon you.

1. Don't be a dumbass (like me). Got a mole or any suspicious mark? Get thee to the doctor.
2. Get a second opinion. Getting second opinions gives me angst. It's like saying to your doctor, "Thanks, but I don't really believe you so I'm going to talk to someone else who I will believe." But you need to do what's right for you.
3. Be your own best advocate. Again, this can be hard. It was actually easier to do when it was Finn. It felt less awkward to say, "I'm behaving in this manner to protect my child" versus "I'm just being an ass today."
4. Be careful what you read. This one is almost impossible to follow. I stressed myself out pretty badly reading about survival statistics for my type of melanoma, which quite frankly, were exactly the same as Finn's for his leukemia. But as Eamonn always reminds me, someone makes up that survival statistics--let's proceed as if it's us. Done.
5. Take care of yourself. That pretty much wraps up the first four items into one nutshell. I waited too long. I procrastinated. I forgot. I didn't pay enough attention. And all of those things were very close to combining to become a very bad thing. Don't do that.

So my surgery was last Friday. I didn't think I was overly nervous, but I didn't sleep at all well from the moment I decided to have the surgery until the day of. I concocted all sorts of scenarios that mostly involved me never waking up from anesthesia versus dying of cancer. I wasn't quaking in fear, just pondering going under and never coming back to the point that I filled Eamonn in on where all of the Christmas presents were hidden in case he had to do Christmas without me. But here I am. I guess I need to wrap everything now.

Versed is a weird, weird drug. It's what they used to give Finn when he had his spinal taps. When I've had Versed before (sinus surgery and another minor surgery), I've remembered things--it just made me really relaxed, but I was still aware of saying goodbye to Eamonn, being wheeled away, to them talking to me in the OR, etc. This time it was completely different. I remember kissing Eamonn and then I was waking up in recovery. No recollection of them wheeling me away, going to the OR or ANYTHING. And that is disturbing on many levels because Eamonn said I was talking. To who? About what? It's such a curious thing.

We got home Friday evening about 7:45pm and I went straight to bed. On Saturday we went to Declan's hockey game. However, earlier today I realized what a post-anesthesia fog I'd been in because I thought I'd gone to two hockey games that day. I even asked my friend if I made sense at the rink because I truly don't remember most of the game or that day. I do remember the surgeon calling to see how I was. He asked if I had any numbness. I said no. He said that was good because that meant he hadn't damaged any nerves. Um, yeah, I think that's good, too.

By Sunday, the pain meds and the knockout drugs were truly wearing off and I was uncomfortable. But each day is better. I hate not being able to work out, especially during Christmas cookie eating season, but this too shall pass.

I should probably stop eating guacamole for dinner though or else I'll have to put "Lose 20 pounds" back on my New Year's Resolution list and that will make me very unhappy.

I am Full of Pie

2011-11-27T22:12:00.003-07:00

Raise your hand if you overate on Thanksgiving.

Count me in. Not horrible, but definitely over the comfort zone.

While I'm a pumpkin pie lover, Eamonn is not. Apparently if you don't grow up eating things that are pumpkin flavored, you never really develop a love for it. I have yet to meet someone from England who says they like pumpkin.

Anyway, I was debating about what our second pie flavor would be on Thanksgiving. The boys and I decided on apple after I found THIS recipe. Sometimes I come down a little hard on The Pioneer Woman because her recipes will put the average citizen into cardiac arrest. But on Thanksgiving, I'm willing to throw her a bone. It's time to throw caution to the wind.

I'm telling you, this apple pie is the bomb. The final two pieces need to go away before I suffer death by pie.

And definitely make the hard sauce for the top. Wow.

I made an attempt to have a gluten free Thanksgiving. I did it with one exception: the sausage stuffing Eamonn makes. I just ate a little because it's worth a little stomach cramping.

I made gluten free pie crusts with THIS recipe. I was a little worried because sometimes gluten free = nasty. But it was a total hit. Eamonn was complimenting the crust. When they were all finished eating, I dropped the gluten free bombshell.

Next up: Gluten Free Christmas. I'm already plotting and planning.

Vanity Sizing. It Does an Ego Good.

2011-11-17T11:57:00.004-07:00

First, a brief announcement. I haven't had the excision on my arm yet (see the post below this one). That first dermatologist appointment was really more of a check with the excision--nice word--scheduled for Dec. 8. Just an update because several of you have texted or e-mailed. But for now, I still have all of the skin on my arm. Except for that little bit they took off originally.

And now, for today's post...

As I have lost weight over this past year, I have also, obviously, lost clothing sizes. Every once in awhile I like to go into a clothing store and try things on to see what size I am. Except that I'm left still not really knowing.

Not too long ago, I read in People magazine (yes, I confess to being a long-time subscriber. Don't judge me.) about Kirstie Allie's weight loss and how she is now a size 6. And then Tim Gunn (I think) was in the same issue saying, "Yeah, Kirstie looks great, but she's no size six," or something to that effect. (And when I looked at the pictures, I thought the same thing.)

Tim Gunn then went on to explain about vanity sizing--a term I had heard before but was selectively filtering out because yes, I do want to believe I'm that smaller size--and how it's rampant today. I wonder if a lot of it has to do with the, uh, upsizing of our nation's waistlines. Maybe people will buy more clothes if they can fit in a "14" versus an 18? I don't know what the logic is. I'm just guessing here.

If you Google vanity sizing, you'll get a ton of different opinions. Wikipedia feels vanity sizing is alive and well. Others say it's a myth. I feel like I remember my mom telling me that more expensive brands ran larger than cheaper brands, and I certainly have felt this has been true over the years.

But I have to say, I'm definitely feeling like vanity sizing is going on. You can't argue with Tim Gunn's facts. In the article he quoted actual measurements and how what was a 10 in the 1980s is inches smaller than what a 10 is now. It's vexing.

What do you think? Do you notice that you can buy smaller clothes these days? And what is your opinion on vanity sizing? I admit I like seeing the smaller sizes. Vanity at its finest!

Public Service Announcement: Wear Sunscreen

2011-11-07T20:35:00.003-07:00

I'm pretty fair skinned. In fact, someone once called me the whitest woman in America. That may be pretty true. Unfortunately, despite my light hair, light eyes, light skin, I spent a good majority of my youth on a boat or at the pool, in the hot summer sun, not wearing sunscreen. Did sunscreen even exist in the 70s?

And then I chose the very inappropriate college years job of lifeguard. Again, not wearing sunscreen. Did anyone wear sunscreen in the late 80s?

So my life in the sun has netted me a bunch of freckles and moles, many of which I've had removed. Some of which were basal cell carcinomas, which isn't really that scary.

About two weeks ago I went in for yet another mole removal. I wasn't really worried, except that this time, I should have been worried. Yep, I had a freaking melanoma on my upper right arm.

So tomorrow I will go have a larger patch of skin removed. I'm a little worried, mostly because I have no pain threshold and what if I cry in the doctor's office over having a little patch of skin cut off? That would be embarrassing. I will try to soldier on. Maybe I'll post gruesome pictures.

Or not. I don't have a stomach for such things.

Mostly I'm telling you this because I almost waited too long to have this thing looked at, and actually my doctor saw it on my arm as a fluke when I had gone in for something else entirely.

Health care in this country (yes, we're not reduced to a diatribe about health care) is in a sorry state--that's obvious. When you don't go to the doctor because you're worried that something will then go in your health record that will then preclude you from getting health care (like I did), you can end up in a pretty serious situation. Don't do that.

So, wear your sunscreen, stay out of the sun, wear a big floppy hat and long sleeves, and for the love of all that is holy, stay out of tanning beds (which, in my defense, I have only ever used one once)--that whole "I'm just getting a base tan" is a total myth. You're fricking radiating your skin. It's no better than the sun--in fact, it's worse. Anything else you hear is brought to you directly by the people who own tanning beds. And what? You want to end up looking like a leather boot? Stop. Immediately.

And if you feel like something isn't right, go to the doctor. Get your annual pap smear (sorry, men). Get your mammogram. Go to the dermatologist. Hey, you could really have some fun and go for a colonoscopy when the time comes. There's something to look forward to!

I'm just asking you to take care of yourself so you don't wake up dead in the morning, OK?

End of diatribe.

A Sign of the Times

2011-11-04T19:34:00.005-06:00

So what do you think? Is the recession over? Is it over where you live? If you had changed your spending habits, have you gone back to how you used to spend?

The reason this is on my mind lately is because of birthday parties.

The boys have been invited to several birthday parties so far this school year.

In fact, we even had a birthday here:

Holy cow, Finn is 9!

Anyway, what has struck me at the birthday parties, including Finn's, is the lack of presents wrapped in yellow or lavender paper or birthday bags.

Why is that relevant? Because our local toy store, which endured for as long as it could during the economic crisis, closed in late August. And when you went to or hosted a birthday party, pretty much every present was wrapped in the signature paper, which I loved because it meant we were all buying locally from our little store. Was she the cheapest? No, of course not. It's really hard for bricks and mortar stores to compete with online prices these days.

But even with all of us buying locally (because I'm sure not everyone did), it wasn't enough and in the end, the store had to close after 10 years of business.

I'm pretty sad about it because there's another big push to build this horrible shopping development with big box stores on the eastern edge of our town.

May I pause for a moment here and say, Ugh?

I know it may seem bizarre that I wouldn't want a Target nearby, but frankly, I look at it as a place full of stuff that I don't really need and shouldn't be spending money on anyway. We have a WalMart about 23 miles away. I can be at a Target in 35 minutes if I drive west and one hour if I drive east. That's plenty close for me. One of the things we love about living here is there is no mall. We were surrounded by suburban chaos where we lived before, and I don't miss it one bit. The fact that our local stores are closing and Big Business might be in our backyard again is depressing to me.

Do I buy locally 100% of the time? No. I have been known to be seen running from the post office with a Zappos box tucked under my arm. But I do make an attempt to buy locally first. And I definitely confess to having an unhealthy addiction to Athleta. But overall, I want Target to go away and I'd like those lavendar and yellow packages back, if you please.

Reality for the Rest of Us

2011-10-24T20:42:00.004-06:00

For the longest time, I've been annoyed by the Biggest Loser. That doesn't mean I don't watch it--I admit I do--but I do find myself annoyed. Why should these people get special nutrition and fitness treatment because they've let themselves totally go to hell?

And so that got me thinking. Why are reality shows always geared to the extreme?

OK, so it's probably because it's more interesting that way.

But in my head I started concocting all sorts of reality shows that would involve normal people.

Would normal people want to be on reality TV? Have I ever mentioned that The Bachelorette's Trista and Ryan live in our valley? And then there was another girl from here on the Bachelor. There you have our local reality claims to fame.

So anyway, these are the shows I came up with for us normal people.

Medium-Sized Losers. This is targeted at those of us who are just marginally overweight. We need help, too! Wouldn't it be great to be swept away to the Medium-Sized Loser Ranch where someone helps you lose those last nagging 10 pounds? Yes, it would be hard work, but you'd get to totally concentrate on you and get all ripped and awesome looking without having to be morbidly obese as a prerequisite. Sign me up. Even if it means having to endure Jillian (who isn't actually on the show anymore).

The Amazing Sports Race. This race will pit teams of parents against one another as they try to escort multiple children to sports practices or games, and other various and sundry after school activities on different sides of town at conflicting times. Participants will be graded on their ability to run from game to game, often of differing sports, all while remembering what child is where, the rules of the game at each respective event which includes what to yell (Goal! Touchdown! Penalty! Foul!) without sounding like you clearly don't know what sport you're watching at any given moment. Because trust me, people do give you a look if you yell "Foul!" at a hockey game.

Motherhood Survivor. This could also be Fatherhood Survivor or Parenthood Survivor. I chose Motherhood because I am, in fact, a mother. Really, this is the mother of all reality shows. In this show, somewhat like The Amazing Sports Race show, people will compete to have a day run as smoothly as possible. The tasks you must complete are: exercise at horrifically early morning hours, make breakfast at multiple times, pack lunches, pack snacks, walk children to school and/or drive carpool, complete a day of work, remember to eat, plan dinner, go to the grocery store, take out trash, clean a toilet or two, do several loads of laundry, answer recorded calls from political candidates, plan a birthday party, mail birthday cards to various and sundry relatives, perform volunteer work at one or more schools, attend at least one meeting (likely unpaid), run the vacuum, take out the trash, help with homework, nag children not to watch too much TV, get children into bed, read to children, do more work without falling asleep, have some sort of interaction with spouse, read 10 pages of a book without falling asleep.

If you make it through those items, you can go on to the second round whereby you will start adding additional items to your list--things like making and taking birthday treats to school, attending PTA, etc. But that's only if you're lucky enough.

Dancing With the Regular People (DWTRP). I'm going to come clean here and admit that in 2007, I pretty much watched the entire season of Dancing with the Stars. Does anyone else remember that season? That was the one when Heather Mills McCartney was on and I was dying to see if her leg might fly off when she did some of those dance moves. It didn't. What a letdown. But anyway, why is it that the stars get to go on the show, dance with the hot professionals (come ON, you cannot tell me that Maks guy is not the hottest thing ever! Ai yi yi.), lose weight and then have their careers revived. Again with the ratings and the stars. Whatever. Personally, I think it would be way exciting to pluck Debbie from Des Moines and Wilma from Wichita off the streets and throw them onto DWTRP and just see what happens. Everyone has a story and I bet if we got to know Debbie and Wilma and whoever else they dredge up, we'd all love it.

Secretly, I do have dreams of going on the real Amazing Race with Eamonn. And in my dreams he does all of the stuff where you jump off buildings or bungee because I'd probably pee my pants on the way down. And that wouldn't look good on TV at all.

Idiots on the Internet

2011-09-26T13:18:00.003-06:00

I'm not referring to myself.

For my work I have to read the news. So I'm pretty much cruising the Internet hours each day looking for news stories that will interest my clients' readers. And I admit, that every once in awhile, I'll click on a non-client-related story because it looks interesting to me, looks crazy to me, whatever.

So a recent story I clicked was about how this man is suing White Castle because he cannot fit into their restaurant booths.

Hmmm. Really?

So I clicked and it's true.

Let's break this down: Turns out this dude has been eating White Castle hamburgers for 48 years. And he's suing because he can't fit into the booths. Now, I'm no super genius, but even I can probably draw a pretty quick scientific conclusion.

A) You ate sliders for 48 years.
B) You got fat.
C) You can no longer fit into a White Castle booth.
D) You are embarassed because you tried to get into a booth and couldn't.
E) You decided to sue.

Does this man not see that his own actions led to his problem? I'm flabbergasted.

But it gets better. In his lawsuit he discusses how he has been such a loyal customer, why doesn't Whitey's fix their booths? And better yet, he hasn't stopped eating White Castle. No, now he sends his wife out to get them and bring them home.

Call me crazy, but if you perhaps stopped, or even just cut down, eating White Castle, perhaps you COULD fit into a booth?

What has happened to common sense in this country?

No wonder we're the butt of every other country's jokes.

Good grief.

What I Love About Fall

2011-09-16T15:05:00.003-06:00

Changing leaves, warm days, cool nights, snow back on the mountain tops. One of the most beautiful sights to me is a bright blue sky, yellow aspen leaves, and snow capped peaks, and sometimes a dusting of snow in the red canyons.

These are things I love about Colorado's falls, which I've grown accustomed to and love.

But, I will say, that fall in Ohio was my favorite season. I still miss the red maples. We don't get huge piles of fallen leaves here. I raking leaves in our backyard growing up. We hated it, come to think of it, but we did love raking the leaves into mazes or "houses" and we chased each other through them.

Then we complained that we had to put the leaves in bags. Blisters. I remember lots of blisters from raking leaves. Plus, the leaves in the backyard were from some nasty tree, not a pretty maple.

Whatever.

My Mom usually had a pot of soup cooking on the stove every Saturday. Chili, vegetable, bean. The whole house smelled so good. Then there was that time she put lima beans in the vegetable soup and we all freaked out.

Earlier today I went to the Food Network's website and they had a whole section about tailgating, and it reminded me that this is something else I miss about growing up in Central Ohio--football Saturdays. Specifically, Ohio State football. There is nothing like Columbus, Ohio, on a football Saturday. I'm a third generation graduate of The Ohio State University. On those Saturdays we were raking leaves and getting blisters, I remember my Dad having the radio on and listening to the game. I heard Archie Griffin's and Cornelius Green's names all the time. I even remember their jersey numbers (45 and 7). I can't remember my anniversary, but I can remember their jersey numbers. I don't know what that says about me, except that I might need to take some ginko.

I remember the first time I ever went to an OSU game with my mom took me. It was the era of Art Schlicter and Cal Murray, which will mean nothing if you're not from Columbus. But I loved it and every fall I'm a little annoyed that I can't get OSU football on TV, except for the rare occasion.

These days I get OSU football game updates from everyone on Facebook who puts the game info as their status updates while the Buckeyes are playing. Gives me some angst, but it's better than nothing!

What says fall to you?

First Snow

2011-09-15T23:23:00.002-06:00

This is early. Mighty early, people. I love winter and all, but...well, it's early.

I suspected yesterday that we might get snow last night. Because basically, that's what the weather people said. Actually, I think someone in the neighborhood told me because I don't remember watching the news yeterday.

Anyway, a cold rain was falling and even at our elevation it dipped waaaaay down into the 40s, so you just KNEW something was going to be afoot at the higher elevations.

When I peeked out this morning, the clouds were right down in the valley so I was clueless. Snow or no snow?

Finally, around 3:15pm, the clouds lifted a little and I could see.

Yep. Snow.

I looked back at the pictures I take each year to mark when the first snowfall on New York Mountain occurs.

2010: September 23 (Tara's birthday!)
2009: September 20
2008: Hmmm, apparently I hadn't started marking the occasion yet

So now as I look, we're not too far off the trend. I confess I'm hoping for a very nice, long Indian Summer now. I'm not ready to wear socks.

Alone in the Valley

2011-09-10T14:10:00.002-06:00

Well, of course I'm not really alone in the valley. But today I feel a little bit alone. Tara, Craig and Garvin took off yesterday for another adventure. They will be roadtripping around the U.S. for this fall, and then after the holidays, they will be spending six or seven months in Thailand and China.

Good grief. That's long when you calculate it in sister time.

I am already missing sister time.

This is when I start calling Erin an inordinate number of times a day and driving her out of her gourd. If she has a gourd left after six kids.

Anyway, if you want to follow Tara, Craig and Garvin's adventures, they are at: www.nootsonthego.blogspot.com.

It's sure to be good fun. Not as much fun as if I were there with them, but fun all the same.

Wake Me Up When September Ends

2011-09-07T15:12:00.012-06:00

Do I make that same lame (Green Day) joke every year? If not, I feel like I should.

The school year. It's here and I'm glad, but September is also a nightmare in terms of schedules. The kids' schedules. My schedule. Eamonn's schedule. The schools--two different ones this year now that middle school is in the mix. Sports.

A month ago, my September schedule was amazingly clear. Now, it's nearly black with pencil marks, erasings, and more pencil marks. (I still keep a pencil/paper calendar if you can believe it)

Where the heck did all of these meetings, sports practices and volunteer thingys come from?

Last weekend we decided to get out of town for the Labor Day holiday. We headed southeast to a mining area called Cripple Creek. We camped at 10,000 feet (my sister said, "What is it with you guys and camping at high altitudes in the fall?") at the world's highest KOA. It was very fun. We visited the Florissant Fossil beds and saw the gold mines and just had a relaxing time in general.

Some pictures:

We stumbled upon a llama farm. This llama was very interested in Finn!

Cool old dead tree as we started a hike at the fossil beds.

I discovered I love, love, love the pondersosa pines in this area. In our valley, the trees tend to be lodgepole pines (and aspens), which, incidentally, have been partially eradicated by the pine bark beetle. Bummer. But these ponderosa pines were so beautiful and green. I'd never seen pine cones in this green stage before.

One of the things offered by our country's national parks system is the chance for kids to earn a junior ranger badge. It's pretty cool and the boys have done it at each of the national parks we've visited. Here we are out on the Ponderosa Loop at Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument. Stunning scenery and great temps--in the high 60s or low 70s and a light breeze. Coat on. Coat off. Coat on. Coat off. Colorado is fickle like that.

One of the assignments to become a Junior Ranger was to see if you could find an animal track. Any guesses as to what animal left this track?

Indian Paintbrush

Taking the oath and earning their badges.

The Hornbeck Homestead. First homestead in the area was started by a single woman (who outlived three husbands) and her children!

Leaving the fossil beds park.

A chilly morning. Trying to get the fire started.

This area of Colorado was known for its gold mines, which produced more gold than the California and Alaksa gold rushes combined. This tire is from one of the big earth movers.

Views of the very beautiful Lost Creek Wilderness Area.

I couldn't stop staring at it.

Car picnic in the Lost Creek Wilderness Area

Top of Guanella Pass. This pass has been closed for the past two years for construction and paving. It's still not finished, but we could take it as a direct route to Georgetown, finally.

Top of Guanella.

The reason we wanted to get to Georgetown: Our annual trip to the soda fountain. Malts and shakes all around. If the pass had still been closed, it would have taken about two additional hours to get there!

Came out of the soda fountain and...

...ran into my friend, Paige, who I met through an online travel forum many moons ago. We have met once in person, also many moons ago. Now we both live in Colorado, but several hours apart. A huge coincidence!

So now we're home after a great weekend away and the week is in a full-blown frenzy. Next week I'll actually get to work a 5-day day week. I've forgotten what that's like.

We Need to Get Off Our Butts

2011-08-24T15:58:00.002-06:00

School is still not in session.

I still have lots of work to do.

Therefore, I ask you to read this little gem of an article, and be alarmed, as I was.

And then, as soon as you're done reading, get up off your rear and do something about it.

We've got to do something about our health as a nation and it starts at home. Put down the doughnut. Drop the remote. And get out there and save your life. Take a few friends and neighbors along with you, too. Clearly, we could all use a little more activity.

It's Time for Summer to Go Away

2011-08-21T17:32:00.005-06:00

I'm sure if you're a kid, you don't feel the same way. Or maybe if you're a teacher, these last few days of summer are depressing. It's the run up to fall.

But it's time. The kids are bored, but they don't really know it. They need to be on a schedule. I need to be on a schedule. Their brains need some stimulation beyond Lego and the Wii. I'm out of ideas.

Last week we made a Jell-o volcano that we have never made erupt. I'm just out of enthusiasm.

I want to work during the day. Does that sound crazy? I want to work during the day and sleep at night like normal humans do.

I also want it to cool off. I still see temps in the 90s in our 10-day forecast. I do not like that, Mother Nature. My people are fair. I am fair. I do not want to look like an old leather boot in another 10 years, so I shun you. So it's time for us to spin away from you for the next half of the year.

I want to eat soup on a cool day.

I want to eat lunch and actually sit down and eat it.

I want to read the newspaper.

I want to plan out my day and have it go accordingly. At least a little bit.

I want to check things off my to do list instead of them endlessly rolling over to the next week.

I want to tackle some projects without feeling guilty.

And there, right there, you have it. Guilty. Mother Guilt.

I feel guilty for even writing these things down, that I am ready for my children to go back to school. That I need some space from them. That while I love them dearly, I am ready to have a little separation.

Because I will feel guilty. I'll think about that Jell-o volcano that was left un-erupted. About how someone else is basically raising my kids during the day (albeit, teaching them things I have no idea how to teach them). About things we said we'd do this summer, but didn't. What will they remember? The things we did? Or the things we didn't? I thought I did well balancing work, letting them have time to get bored (I'm a firm believer that if you let your kids get bored, they'll finally get creative), and getting them out and about doing fun stuff, whatever that fun stuff may be.

But, it's time. Declan starts one week from tomorrow. Finn starts one week from Wednesday (and don't ask me how the heck I'm going to work for those two days with only ONE kid home--one kid home is much worse than two kids home, I think).

To try and save my sanity this September, which is normally a very stress-filled month from a work and back-to-school volunteer perspective, I have dialed back on what I'm involved in this year, so that I don't come to the end of September and wish it was summer again already.

We'll see how that works out.

But I am already looking forward to Christmas break. Strange and slightly ridiculous, I know.

Music for the Masses

2011-08-15T22:15:00.003-06:00

When we have to go to Denver, like today, I love listening to this "oldies" station, 105.1 FM. I put that in quotes because I can't bear the thought/truth that they're playing 80s music on that "oldies" station. Sigh.

Anyway, we're motoring along and I pretty much know every single song that comes on there. I'm famous for knowing a few words to just about every song ever. They're not always the right words, but whatever.

So there I was, belting out the lyrics to "Magic" by Pilot, when I realized, I had a little choir singing right along with me.

What the heck? How did they know that song? Once at an event at the boys' school, the DJ played it and said he'd give a free hot dog to the person who knew who sang it. I sent Declan right over with the answer (because I love hot dogs almost as much as I love being right). He said the band was "Chilot"--WTF???--clearly he was having trouble hearing me in front of the blaring speakers, but the DJ gave Declan the free hot dog anyway. Which Declan then ate before returning to me. Again: WTF?

But there was no way he would know all of those lyrics from hearing the song once two years ago.

Turns out, "Magic" was used in the second Diary of a Wimpy Kid movie, which we own because my friend Rachael is in it so we've watched it at least 100 times. At least. And that's how they know it.

Over the course of the drive today, we were all singing together on tracks by Bon Jovi, Elton John, AC/DC, the Beatles, and there may have been some Queen in there for good measure.

What does crack me up is when they hear an "old" song and say something like "Hey, I thought Flo-Rida sang this!" Then I have to explain about what a "cover" is.

I think it's probably how my parents felt when I was insistent that Kylie Minogue invented the Loco-Motion.

What goes around comes around.

That's What Kids Are For

2011-08-10T22:21:00.004-06:00

I've come to a conclusion: People have kids so they can eventually stop doing stuff and make their kids do it instead.

I've long suspected this is the case based on my own youth, and now I'm doing it to my children, so it must be universally true.

When I was a girl, as we like to say around here, I figured my mom had me only so she had someone to clean the silver, unload the dishwasher and vacuum the basement steps. And also maybe to wash the baseboards every spring. Even as I write those chores, I cringe. The silver, the dishwasher and the basement steps were my most hated--HATED I tell you--chores. There was other stuff, dusting, general vacuuming, and lawn mowing, but the silver, the dishwasher, the basement steps--drudge work. It was like I was Cinder-frickin-ella when I had to do those. Minus the singing cartoon birds and woodland creatures, of course.

I remember also sitting on the couch, my mom plucking her eyebrows, "Can you go get me a tissue?"

What? No! What am I? Your slave?

I usually ended up getting the tissue--you don't really mess around with the person who has the power to not drive you places.

But the short answer as I look back now is yes, our children are like tiny indentured servants that we need to take advantage of. They'll be gone soon and we'll be sad there isn't anyone to do stuff for us anymore.

A few of the things I used to do, but now make my children do. In no particular order of importance:
-Get out of the car and put library books in the drop box
-Get out of the car and check the post office box
-Go stand in line at the post office to pick up a package
-Get out of the car and get me a newspaper
-Get me a tissue when I'm sitting on my rear on the couch
-Get me a piece of paper towel when I'm sitting on my rear on the couch
-Pick things up off the floor because I'm almost too old to bend over now
-Help me pick up things that appear to heavy

And the list goes on.

And reading this list makes me realize that:
1. I spend too much time at the post office
2. I wish we had home delivery of mail AND newspapers, but alas, we do not
3. I'm glad my kids aren't in car seats anymore and can take part in these activities
4. I'm entering a lazy phase of life.
5. I'm going to be very sad when they leave for college, for a variety of reasons, but most of all because I will have to get out of the car and get my own newspaper. That makes me all choked up.

A Zillion Years Ago, We Went on Vacation

2011-08-04T20:54:00.002-06:00

OK, so it wasn't a zillion years ago. It was about 3 1/2 months ago. But it feels like it was an eternity ago. I look back at the pictures and I can't believe how it sped by. I'm ready to go back!

Anyway, at long last, here are the pictures from our trip to England and Germany, April 27 - May 2.

Someone let me know if that link doesn't work.

As if any of you wouldn't.

I Heart Athleta

2011-08-02T15:30:00.002-06:00

So Eamonn made a comment the other day that we needed to rein in our spending a little. Oops. Reading between the lines, I think what he was really saying was: "You know all of those clothes you've been buying? Stop it."

I confess, I have been terrible over the course of the last few months and it's for two reasons: Buying clothes if fun after you lose weight, and my friend Wendi kept waving the spring Athleta catalog under my nose. Really, I think it's mostly her fault.

Athleta. I love that catalog beyond anything that's rational. I used to receive the catalog sporadically, and I'd look through it and think, "Nothing in here would fit me or look remotely good on me."

But as I started to lose more weight this spring and get fitter, here came Wendi with a new copy of Athleta. And I thought that a pair of yoga pants from the catalog might be just the ticket for the long flight to England.

I ordered a pair and it was love at first wear.

The pants are a little too big now, but oh well. I'll keep wearing them because they were a little on the expensive side. Hope Eamonn isn't reading...

Anyway, that sort of opened the Athleta floodgates. And clearly they know that I am now a sucker. I receive two catalogs and two promotional e-mails constantly. A screw up on their part or are they crazy like a fox?

I ordered some new workout clothes. Loved them. I ordered some new clothes just to wear. Loved them, too.

Then the sale came. If there's anything that I love more than Athleta in general, it's Athleta ON SALE.

If you've never seen an Athleta catalog, go to Athleta.com. The sale is still on AND for the next four days, there's an additional 20% off promotion if you enter SUMMER20 at checkout. What I got and am LOVING: the Whatever skort, the Hopkinton Hoodie (more about my hoodie obsession in another post), the switchback tank, the PR tank, and the chase skort. I also ordered the Dipper skort, but it's not here yet so I cannot comment on whether I like it or not!

It's a long list now that I look at it. Yikes! Especially when you consider I have several of the same items. Yes, that's how much I like Athleta. Frankly, I also find the women in it inspiring--more athletic looking rather than model-y looking. I don't really relate to model-y, truth be told.

Anyway, get on over to Athleta and check it out.

Disclosure: I am not paid to endorse Athleta. I do not get free clothes from Athleta. I wish I did because I love Athleta.
The end.

Once Upon a Time, I Had a Blog

2011-07-30T11:29:00.004-06:00

Oh, and look, it's still here. Is anyone still reading?

Summer. Ah, summer. I love the warm weather--it's so short-lived in this part of the world--but truth be told, it's killing me.

The boys and I came home this week after two weeks visiting my mom in Ohio. We had such a great time, and I THINK I did an OK job of balancing fun for the boys and work. And visiting people. And eating Graeter's and Donatos.

Nevermind that it was 100 degrees and 100 percent humidity, nevermind that at all. The benefits of being in that kind of humidity--great curls, my wrinkles aren't so defined, the closet in my old bedroom was so hot it steamed all of the wrinkles out of my clothes after traveling. The drawbacks--puffy ankles, puffy fingers, lotion doesn't rub in, you are sweating immediately after getting out of the shower.

And now, I'm going to comment on airline travel. Because I feel like it. And what the heck is up with the airlines? I don't know if any of you have ever used some of the small, regional airlines in Europe, but they are VERY strict about your carryon luggage. One bag. One bag, I tell you, and it had better fit in their little size thingy that they have at the gate--measurement-wise and weight-wise. While this made it more logistically more challenging to think about flying, I have to say I appreciated it when I was boarding and someone wasn't trying to stuff a gigantic bag in the overhead compartment right above my seat.

So here's my beef. On our way to Ohio, two women carried on bags/suitcases that were technically of the right size per airline standards, but they had clearly packed them so full AND these women were not the most physically fit, that they couldn't lift their own bags into the overhead compartment. Why would you do that? Perhaps it's time to suck it up and check your bag? I understand that none of us likes the baggage fees or to wait in the baggage claim area, but the situation with carryon luggage has gotten completely out of hand. The rest of us checking luggage get our bags weighed. Who is weighing the bags of all the people carrying on? Hmmm?

I carry one bag on--usually a backpack. And I usually put it under my feet. On two of the flights this time I did put it in the overhead bin, just to have the leg room. And I love it when someone asks me if they can move my bag to fit their gigunda bag up there. No, I'm sorry, you cannot move my bag, you overhead bin hog.

Anyway, I feel that there should be a new rule from the FAA: If you bring a bag on so heavy that you cannot lift it unassisted into the overhead bin, you will be left on the tarmac.

I feel better for getting that out of my system.

Life is busy and kind of boring now, but on my agenda for posting in the next week, I am committing to:
-Finally posting pictures from our England/Germany trip (remember that?)
-Posting some pictures from Ohio
-Getting caught up on everyone else's blogs!

We'll see how that works out. Hope everyone (all one of you reading this which probably doesn't even include my mom right now since Erin is there visiting) is having a great summer.

In the Good 'Ol Summertime

2011-06-29T14:47:00.008-06:00

I fear that once again, summertime is going to cause me to be somewhat of an absentee blogger.

I'm really trying to be "present" in the summer this summer. Does that make sense? It's hard because I want to the boys to love summer like I did, but I'm also struggling with getting work done. I got a new assignment from a client, which is very, very good financial news, but it also means yet even more to try to squeeze in since I do most of my work at night. I'm also trying to maintain my morning workout schedule. Eamonn is also working out in the mornings now, so we're vying for space! But that's a good thing. I've settled on a schedule where I get up and start work while he's working out. As soon as he's finished, I go downstairs and do my workout.

It seems to be working--all of this working out.

This morning I did Day One of Couch to 5k. I did it. And it wasn't very hard at all. Considering I despise running. It's just one of those things I wondered if I could do. The answer: I can.

With that said, I'm not formally starting the program right now, so all of you C25K nuts who just got all excited: calm down. I just wanted to see if I could do it. I'm thinking when we're back from Ohio in August is going to be more feasible in terms of time.

So, everything that's going on here is WORK, tennis lessons for the boys, WORK, hockey for Declan, WORK, swimming lessons for the boys, WORK, playdates, summer reading program at the library, the occasional doctor or dentist appointment, etc., etc.

AND, one of my favorite activities: CAMPING! Last weekend we camped down in a place called the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. It's a national park and we had a blast. I ate many (MANY) s'mores and I have determined that I am the champion marshmallow roaster.

So I'll be here and there this summer, but when I'm more there than here, here are a few pictures from the Black Canyon of the Gunnison.

Setting up camp. We camped on the South Rim for the bargain rate of $12 a night. This was a very sparse camp. We had a great spot--shady!--but it was vault toilets and only a small drinking fountain and spigot on the camping loops. Truly, pack it in, pack it out. It was fun. I was happy to get home and get shower though. I think 3 days without a shower in the summer is about my limit. There was also some excitement because there was a bear roaming the campground. On the final morning it was just a few sites down from ours. He's not malicious--just hungry for camper food. We had to keep a very clean camp!

The Taj Mahal of tents is up!

Checking out the view.

This was actually taken on the way out of the park, but I was trying to make it look like we were just getting there. And now I've outed myself.

Views from a hike on our first afternoon/evening.

Another canyon view.

This is us.

We came home via Gunnison and Crested Butte. CB is a very remote town. In the winter, there's only one way out because the mountain pass closes. I like remote. I want to live there. Inside the ski/mountain bike museum in Crested Butte. Cool history about the sport and town.

Anyone see the irony here? Anyone? Bueller?

Coming home via Kebler Pass outside of Crested Butte. Stunning views.

Bake Yer Bacon

2011-06-21T21:16:00.003-06:00

I love bacon.

Yes, I know. It doesn't fit with anything else I talk about in terms of good eating. I especially love the bacon in England/Ireland--back bacon. People say, oh, that's just like Canadian bacon. It isn't. The end.

So a few months ago, I had a Bacon Revolution. I don't think I've told you about it. And you may read this and say, oh yeah, I've done that for years. But for those of you in the dark, I'm here to show you the light about cooking bacon. Because while I love bacon, and I especially love the flavor when it's cooked in a cast iron pan (which is how I've done it for years), it's messy and I nearly always burn it because I'm running around trying to make pancakes or waffles, etc. to go with it.

Burned bacon doesn't make anyone happy.

And then Tara told me about baking your bacon.

It sounded weird.

And then I did it. I am now a convert. It's easy. I just did it tonight for BLTs.

Check it out:
Line a cookie sheet (one that has sides) with foil (curve the foil up at the side of the pan.

Put your bacon on the foil.

Put it in a cold oven.

Turn the oven on to 400 degrees. For those of you in England, I think that's about Gas Mark 6.

Cook for maybe 15 - 20 minutes. I can't remember the exact time. Keep an eye on it because when it's done, it will burn, just like on the stovetop! Take it out when it looks like it's done to your liking. We like ours a little crispy.

Drain on paper towels.

Eat it up. Try not to eat too much. That's hard, I know.

Crumple up the foil and put your cookie sheet away without washing it because it's still clean.

You can thank me later.

The Unsuccessful Dream Killer

2011-06-15T18:16:00.007-06:00

As I write this, Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final is about to get underway. Aside from the fact that it totally bugs me that people try to put their own spin on The Star Spangled Banner and sing it in a different rhythm so it's hard to sing along, I'm pretty darn excited.

I love hockey.

Good thing considering that we leave early Friday morning for a hockey tournament.

But whatever.

My point here is that to this day, Declan thinks he's going to the NHL. And I'm very glad for that because of something that happened on his first day of Mini Mite hockey. First day.

Picture this. About 35 or 40 kids, 6 and 7 years old. Declan was 6. It was his very first official day of hockey. He'd done all of the learn-to-skate, learn-to-play hockey, intro to hockey, and hockey camps that he'd been eligible to do at this point. This is a kid who, at the age of 3, told us he wanted to learn to skate. And pretty quickly after that, skating became hockey and hockey became playing as goalie.

By the ripe old age of 6, he has already started watching hockey on TV. He has already started playing hockey in the basement (mostly making up his own rules so that his little friends don't actually want to play with him). He makes comments like, "When I play for the Blue Jackets..."

It is beyond sweet.

So it's October 2006 and 6-year-old Declan is one the ice, stick in hand. The kids skate around and warm up. A coach skates to center ice and blows his whistle. All of the kids gather around. The coach gives a little speech. I assume it's some sort of motivational speech, welcome to hockey, yaddah yaddah yaddah. The coach is talking. I see all of the kids raise their hands. More talking. They start doing drills.

I was wrong when I thought the kids were getting a little "welcome to hockey" speech. And I found this out after the practice when I asked Declan what the coach said. There was no, hi, great to have you. Nope, it went something like this:

Coach: "Who here thinks they're going to the NHL?"

Of course, every hand goes up.

Coach: "Well, actually none of you are going to the NHL. There is no one here who is going to the NHL. And because none of you are going to the NHL, we're not here show off or let people be superstars. We're here to learn and have fun."

Now, his words are true, I'll grant him that. Statistically, it's unlikely that a little Mini Mite from a small rural Colorado mountain town will end up in the NHL. And I agree, overall, with his message. Kids need to learn the sport, have fun and not have all of the crazy competitiveness that comes, regardless, with kids' sports.

What I resent and despise is killing a child's dream by saying "You know those dreams you have? Well, they're never coming true." His speech would have been better served being directed at the parents: "Keep your shirt on, your kid isn't going to the NHL."

Anyway, right or wrong, from that second on, I despised that coach. And I still do. I try not to be a person who dwells on stuff for too long, but that has always bugged me.

And I probably should get over it because clearly Declan still has the dream. He still makes comments like, "When I play for the Blue Jackets..." Sometimes he'll say in a horrified voice, "What if I get drafted by the Red Wings?!?!?!" They're the Blue Jackets' archrival, in case you were wondering.

So tonight while I was cooking dinner, a player for one of the teams playing tonight (Vancouver Canucks--Finn's favorite team vs. the Boston Bruins) talked about how Game 7 is the culmination of a lifetime of dreams, the playing out of a fantasy since he was a child. He talked about how as a kid he played hockey in the basement, in the driveway, in the street, or on a pond with his friends and in their games, it was always Game 7 of the Stanley Cup. Never Game 3, never Game 6. Game 7 is IT. It is THE DREAM of anyone who has ever played hockey.

Which wouldn't be me, of course, I can't even really skate. But I have heard that Game 7 scenario in my basement more times than I can count--coming up through the air ducts, floating through the house, whether it's spring, summer, winter or fall. Regardless of whether we've been away at hockey, camping or the pool. It is their dream and they replay it over and over and over again.

So I admit I got a tiny tear in my eye when I heard the player talk about what playing in the biggest game of his life tonight meant to him. Maybe a coach told him he'd never be in the NHL one day, and yet, there he is on my TV screen right now, living out his greatest dream.

And so really, is it so wrong to let kids dream big dreams? Do we need to be the ones to say to them, "You know, that's not going to happen, right?" I grew up riding horses and for a long, long time, maybe into high school, I had a dream of going to the Olympics. Now clearly, there came a point in my life where I realized I wasn't going to the Olympics, but I figured that out on my own and it didn't diminish the love I had for riding or my commitment to it. My point is I didn't have some jackass telling me I would never achieve my goals and dreams at any point, let alone when I was 6.

So go chase your dreams--whatever they are--and don't let anyone ever tell you they won't come true. And then look for me in the stands in 2018 or maybe 2022 when I'm watching Declan in the gold medal ice hockey game at the Olympics. Because when he goes, I'm definitely going, too.

Learning from Red Wings goalie coach Jim Bedard.

Mmmm, Good

2011-06-12T19:43:00.003-06:00

I've pretty much kept recipes over on my other blog, but this one is the bomb and more people read this blog, and this is too yummy to not share.

Cooking Light's Salmon, Asparagus, and Orzo Salad with Lemon-Dill Vinaigrette

It was good. Good, I tell you.

A few notes: I didn't have fresh dill and used dried. Next time I'll up the lemon juice by at least a tablespoon. I like a lot of tang.

Finn was 50/50 on it, as he said. Declan ate it, but I noticed he didn't eat all of the asparagus. Eamonn liked it, but admitted he was so hungry after his bike ride up Vail Pass tonight that he would have eaten anything I put down in front of him.

I loved it and had trouble stopping at the 1 1/4 cup serving size. We ate it as a main dish and I served it with fresh strawberries.

Next year I'll make sure to make it in the prime asparagus season.

Incidentally, have I told you how much I love my Cooking Light cookbooks? I do. I really do.

The Last Time

2011-06-08T21:21:00.005-06:00

Today was Declan's last day of elementary school. And the last time the boys will be at the same school...until they're in high school.

I got up at a ridiculously early hour to get my workout and shower in before making chocolate chip pancakes and bacon.

I think I actually feel asleep standing up during the all-school slide show at 2pm.

I have spent nearly every day of the last 10 days at school. Plays. Music concerts. Class parties. Park trips. Pool trips.

Today, for example, started at 8:15am with class plays. At 10am there was a "continuation" ceremony and celebration. Then on to the park for a picnic. I delivered ice cream sandwiches. Back to school. Clapped the 5th graders into the gym. Then the epic slideshow.

It won't ever be like this again.

I think I might be a little relieved.

Check him out: Middle schooler

And maybe just a little bit sad.

Is Gaga the New Madonna?

2011-06-03T19:30:00.003-06:00

Aside from the fact that music from my high school era is now playing on the oldies station in Denver, I'm feeling really old because I don't recognize any of the "modern" music on the radio. I have to constantly ask my kids, "Who's singing this?"

I've become more acutely aware of this in the last few months. When we are in Aspen for hockey--good grief, was that February or March--they usually play music during game stoppages. As a fan, I love that. Declan says it's distracting to him.

Whatever. He's only the goalie.

Anyway, I recognized the music playing, but I never knew who it was. Someone usually clued me that it was Rhianna, Lady Gaga, Usher, Katy Perry, Black Eyed Peas, Bruno Mars, Pink, etc. And then there are other times when I don't recognize a darn thing.

It's very humbling.

But the whole thing about my question about Lady Gaga goes back to her outfits/costumes. And what about the dress of meat? Ewww! If that doesn't turn you into a vegetarian, I don't know what will. So I was wondering if her crazy outfits are any different than the antics of artists in other generations. Elton John and all of his whacky glasses. Madonna and the cones on her boobs (there's a story about Eamonn and Skylar putting cones on their chests in a UDF in Powell. I won't go into the details here. A small amount of alcohol may have been involved.). Is it just something that happens in every generation's musical lifetime?

Because I do wonder--what the heck did my parents think of Madonna? I loved her! I was a Wannabe, trying to wear my hair knotted up in the bandanna, etc. Ohhh, I thought I was so cool. And what did parents think of nut jobs like the Thompson Twins, who were neither named Thompson, nor were they even related. In fact, there were three of them. Flock of Seagulls--what's up with the hair? There are just countless examples.

My mother's favorite group when she was young was the Kingston Trio. They probably weren't too objectionable to her parents from my point of view. It probably all started with Elvis and the Beatles. Neither of which my parents were into, which I found shocking. How could you not love the Beatles?

Anyway, I'm feeling old in the music department. I probably need to download some new music (because who buys CDs anymore?) since the last time I bought anything was...well, I can't remember when. Oh wait, I bought Eamonn some Tom Jones for his birthday. But I'm thinking that won't actually bring me into the modern age.

Milestones

2011-05-24T16:55:00.003-06:00

I have a really old car.

As you can see...

I took these pictures today as my car rolled over the monumetal milestone of 200,000 miles.

Weeks ago, Eamonn had put the camera in the car so I would be ready for this event.

I brought the camera into the house and said, "Why is the camera in the car?" The camera never made it back into the car which is why when I was pulling into the Costco parking lot at 199,999 miles, I panicked because what in the world was I going to do because I could picture the camera in the kitchen and not in the car where it was supposed to be on this momentous occasion!?

Thank goodness for camera phones.

I took several shots that didn't work. Then I figured out I needed to turn off the flash, which can actually be done. After two years with this phone, I was able to figure this out at the moment of truth. Yay me.

So I pull into the Costco lot and just happen to look down and see 199,999. Whew. Glad I didn't miss it while randomly driving around.

Took the photos. Drove around the Costco parking lot to rack up another mile and took the 200k picture.

I'm pretty sure I alarmed some of the patrons with my continued circling.

Whatever.

And the thing is, I love this car. I do not want another one. In my mind, it can't be replaced. It's a '99 VW Passat Wagon and it was the last year these were made in Germany. Now they're made in Mexico. I feel unenthused about a German car made in Mexico.

It has been an amazing car. Other than routine maintenance, we've had nary a problem with it. KNOCK WOOD. KNOCKING WOOD LOUDLY RIGHT NOW.

I figure at least 100,000 of the miles have been to and from hockey and soccer games.

But in addition to sporting events, some of the VW's exploits include:

-Four roundtrips from Ohio to Colorado. And then one Ohio to Colorado trip (no return that time!)
-Two round trips Ohio to Florida
-Round trip Ohio to Ocean City
-Two round trips Ohio to Canada (Ontario)
-Two trips to Branson--one from Ohio, one from Colorado
-Countless trips to Utah
-Colorado to Yellowstone (Wyoming)

It has carried 12 Christmas trees (and nearly been stuck in the snow on one of those adventures--no four-wheel drive on our little car!), transported kids and pets alike (RIP Kirby!), was bumped in a parking lot once, had numerous windshields, and more sets of new tires than I have shoes (OK, that might be an exaggeration, but you get the point), has held bikes, tents, snowshoes, skiis, more bikes, hockey gear, soccer gear. Sometimes much of that was at the same time.

And in 12 years, when I take pictures of it turning over 400,000 miles, I swear I'll dust the dashboard before I take pictures.

Ta Ta, Oprah!

2011-05-23T17:06:00.004-06:00

Has anyone else been watching the last season of Oprah?

I've watched her show on and off over the years. When I was a freshman in college (I think), the Oprah Show started airing on a local TV station. I vividly remember waiting for a class to start and listening to the show where she went to the all white town on a friend's Sony Walkman since we weren't at home to watch it.

Sophomore year, after classes, I'd run over to my friend Wendy's dorm and we'd watch it. Memorable event from that year? When she lost all of the weight and wheeled the wagon full of fat onstage.

My viewing waxed and waned however. Once I started working, it was harder to watch. I still caught episodes here and there though. And of course, since having kids, I felt like I rarely got to watch. You should hear the cries of protest that go up when I turn on Oprah when I start dinner.

But this year I decided that since we now have the Amazing and Wonderful DVR, I would record the shows and watch when no one was home. That way I didn't have to deal with the "You're watching Oprah again?" drama.

As an added bonus, Oprah's new TV network, OWN, has been airing Oprah Behind the Scenes. Ooooo, I confess I love that show even more than the actual Oprah Show itself!

So this whole season (the last three episodes air Monday - Wednesday this week) has sort of been a "where are they now." Aside from not being invited to the last Favorite Things show (they actually did two this year), I've enjoyed the season and I don't think I've missed many episodes. Except when we were in England. I didn't record three weeks of Oprah, much to Eamonn's relief.

Anyway, as I've been watching, I've realized how much I DIDN'T see over the years. For example, I vaguely remember Dr. Phil getting his start on Oprah and the whole lawsuit with the beef industry, but who the heck was Ilyana Whatshername? And why did we need two shows devoted to her?

And James Frey. Did we really need to see James Frey again on TWO episodes? What a waste. I would have prefered to have an episode about Oprah's hair stylist and ask him what he was thinking for many, many years.

Other episodes I started and then deleted after a few minutes: Goldie Hawn talking about happiness. She's apparently some sort of expert. I will grant you that she seems very happy, but in a dingy kind of way. And actually, I can't remember what else I deleted...because I deleted them.

I missed the Sister Wives, dang it. How can you not watch that train wreck? And how about the Mystery Sister being unveiled. Wonder how that's working out? Loved seeing Ralph Lauren's ranch in Telluride, but if I had to hear her say one more time about counting the number of fence posts and wishing she could go inside, well, it was driving me nuts.

Diana Ross--liked it.
Michael Jackson's mom--liked it.
Makeovers--liked it.
Hookups--liked it.

Susan Lucci--could have done without her and her zillion on screen husbands.

Sound of Music reunion--awesome.

Camping in Yellowstone--freaking hilarious. I even watched it when they re-ran it.

Fergie--get your life together, woman.

Barbra Streisand--love her music, but can't decide if she's an annoying diva or what. While that house of hers looks really cool, the dolls in the basement scared me.

I can't think of anything that I felt like I wanted to see, but didn't. Except for me on the Favorite Things, of course.

Two more days and then Oprah is history! I think Eamonn is immensely relieved.

I now have some extra time in the day to fill.

What Would You Say to Your 20-Year-Old Self?

2011-05-16T18:02:00.003-06:00

Assuming you're over 20, that is.

Over the past 18 months, and especially in the last six months, I've really made a concerted effort to take better care of myself. I lost those last few nagging pounds, I'm trying to get more sleep (terrible at this), drink more water (also terrible at this), take better care of my skin, etc.

I've definitely noticed some changes over the last few years, since turning 40 of course, and they seem to be accelerating. Basically, everything I made fun of my parents for (groaning when they get up or down from a chair, stiff knees, moving reading material forward and back in attempt to focus) is coming true.

Gah. It's gross.

With that said, while I don't want to go gently into that good night and just let my body detiorate without a fight, I also want to be somewhat graceful about the whole thing. My Grandma was a really great example of aging. Although I definitely remember her getting down on the family room floor at her house and rolling around on the floor in her nightie, doing exercises to Gloria Marshall, she always talked about how each age was something to look forward to.

She may have been lying to make me feel better. Who knows.

So I'm trying to think about my older self talking to my younger self, really at any age. What would my 40-year-old self say to my 20-year-old self? What will my 50-year-old self say?

At this point, here are the things I would advise/suggest/encourage my younger self.

-You are not fat. Your weight went up and down some, and there were some times that you were softer (like after living in Europe for the summer of '93), but fat? No.
-With that said, eat better. Avoid chemicals!
-Take care of your skin. Stay out of the sun. Tans are overrated. Moisturize. You may try to age gracefully, but age spots are a drag. So is skin cancer. Fair is just fine.
-Stop fighting your hair.
-Don't sweat the small stuff. School work will get done. Work will get done. And if it doesn't, the earth will not stop turning.
-No one is looking at how clean your house is. Instead of cleaning, go outside. Be active. On your deathbed, you will not regret that you didn't dust.
-Don't gossip. Be genuine. Smile more.
-This, too, shall pass. Whatever it is.

What would you tell your younger self?

Things I Don't Make My Husband Do

2011-05-11T09:50:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time, and truly, I think it was only once, I went grocery shopping with Eamonn. He was still my boyfriend then, but truly I only recall going to the grocery store together once. It was very early days in our relationship and I think we were planning to cook dinner together, so off we went to peruse the aisles of Kroger to decide what to make.

We are a Divide and Conquer family. If I'm at the grocery store, it's usually during the day when he's at work. Or if it's the weekend, he's doing something with the boys or working on the house. We don't have enough time for both of us to take off and go to the store. We've got things to do!

The reason this is on my brain is that yesterday I was in Denver for a meeting. If I have to go to Denver and if I need something (or one could argue even if I don't need something), I'll stop by Kohl's. We don't have a Kohl's in the valley. I confess, I miss it. I like Kohl's.

Anyway, I was pulling up to Kohl's and I saw a couple heading in together. I giggled a little. Of course, Eamonn and I have been in Kohl's together before. Trips like that usually mean I have indicated that his wardrobe is in a shambles and he needs to buy something new, so I drag him there when there's a sale. But frankly, more often than not, I go in, pick stuff out and bring it home. That was easier when we lived 10 minutes from Kohl's, but we still use that strategy. He's not a big shoppper. Big surprise.

So seeing that couple walking into Kohl's got me thinking about things I don't make my husband do:

1. Go shopping with me--grocery store or otherwise. I can't imagine parading out of the fitting room in multiple outfits for his review. Plus, I try to keep what I buy pretty much of a secret, pulling it out of my closet as needed and hoping he doesn't notice I've even been shopping. And as for the grocery store, as long as there's food in the fridge, he seems happy.

2. Watch Woman TV or Chick Flicks. Every once in awhile, he'll humor me on a special occasion and sit through something his friends will make fun of him for. Like the time we went to see You've Got Mail on our second anniversary. But there are limits. Like the time I wanted to see Mama Mia. I confirmed that he did NOT want to go, and I was right, and I went with my sister and her friends. We sang through the whole thing. There was one guy, one sad, embarassed guy, in the whole theater. He was there with his girlfriend. And he was slumped so far down in his seat you could just see the top of his head. I bet they broke up the next day. Heck, I would have dumped her, too. Get a clue, girlfriend. If want to watch Woman TV, I go to another part of the house. Like when I want to watch Oprah.

3. Eat frou frou food or a meal that nothing has died for. Or lentils. One time in our newlywed days, I slaved for hours over this lentil casserole with this special topping. He was about to eat it, fork poised at his lips, and he said, "I love everything except lentils." So never again.

4. Go on beach vacations. Or any other vacation where you sit around. One must be doing something on vacation.

5. Wear dress up clothes unless there is a wedding or funeral, and sometimes not even then.

It's taken 16 years, but I'm learning the ropes.

The Library Angel is...an Angel

2011-05-08T19:42:00.004-06:00

You may remember that back when Finn was in kindergarten, his year started with a lot of struggles as the result of his Sensory Processing Disorder. You may also remember that I wrote about a woman, our school's librarian, who stepped in and made life bearable for Finn during those first weeks of school and while his occupational therapy kicked in and he learned to cope.

I wrote about Ruth, who I called The Library Angel, several times. Yesterday afternoon, our school principal e-mailed us to let us know that Ruth had passed away that morning.

I'm sad, but Ruth was ready to go, and that gives me some peace of mind.

I like the staff at our school--they're a great group of people. But there was something special about Ruth. I'll never forget how she took Finn under her wing that horrible year. She was a safe haven. She listened to him when he was sad or scared. She didn't bark at him and tell him to go back to his seat at lunch. She was exactly what he needed. Exactly what we needed.

Ruth was one of the first staff members I met at the school when we moved here. I arrived late to my first PTA meeting and crept into a seat at the back. Ruth was sitting in the back as well. She swiveled in her seat and with a big smile, thanked me for coming.

We became friends. She was in remission from her first bout with cancer and we swapped stories of different types of treatment--we were both very into alternative options as well as traditional medicine. I worked in the library every Thursday and during the school's book fairs each spring and fall. We enjoyed talking the role nutrition can play in healing. I used to make experimental raw foods and taste test them on her. If it was horrible, she never let on.

The library has so many loyal volunteers, all jockeying for position to have their favorite day. And Ruth was the reason. She was a person you just wanted to be around. Positive, funny, wry, smart, athletic, just a great enthusiasm for life and living.

I'll leave you with a little story about Ruth that makes me smile even as I'm writing it. I know some of you follow Ruth's blog and so as we all read, on April 22, Ruth's daugheter, Sarah, posted that a blockage Ruth had been dealing with was back. This had happened before, but Sarah's post seemed more definite this time--there was nothing else to be done. We were traveling, but every chance I got, I accessed Ruth's blog to see what was happening. There was no update. When we got home, the word was that Ruth was just hanging on. I don't know how to define the state she was in--not conscious. Sleeping. Is that coma?

Anyway, last Monday, after not eating or drinking for weeks and not being conscious, Ruth suddenly woke up and said, "What the hell am I still doing alive? I'm supposed to be dead by now!"

I looked at the person telling me the story. "No way did Ruth say 'hell'," I said. The story teller, who had heard this directly from Ruth's daughter, assured me that yes, Ruth did say hell. And at this, I laughed out loud because those of you who read Ruth's blog also know that Ruth is one of the most Godly women ever and to think of her swearing, well, that's just nuts.

Ruth spent time that day looking at the pictures Bob and Sarah had picked out for the memorial service. She didn't like a few that were chosen and tried to lobby against their use even though Sarah said, "I love those!" Ruth shrugged matter of factly and said, "I guess I won't be there anyway!"

And that was just Ruth. Truly, what an amazing woman and you will never convince me that she wasn't an angel sent here for those of us who needed her. Selfishly, I'll miss her, but it was her time and she was ready.

If you visit her blog today, you'll see that in huge capital letters, "RUTH IS WITH THE LORD!!!" It makes me smile and cry at the same time. I'm smiling for her, but crying for the rest of us.

I can't decide what I like to imagine her doing in heaven--running like the wind or shelving books.

Either way, it's something she loves.

I Did Not Run Away

2011-05-03T16:34:00.003-06:00

Although I guess I sort of did. We got home late last night from 3 weeks on the road visiting Eamonn's family in England and Germany. I would have told you before I left, but I'm getting a little freakier about notifying the Internet that our house is sitting empty.

Even though we live in a neighborhood where the houses are as close together as New York City apartments and there haven't been any robberies or even attemted robberies in the nearly 5 years we've lived here. But who wants to tempt fate?

And anyway, if we're Facebook friends, you probably figured out. Because truly, how discreet can I be for 3 weeks?

I did have my iPad with me (best invention ever) and I had intended to post occasional photos to see if you could guess where we were, but then, Sooper Genius that I am, I couldn't figure out how to upload pics from my iPad to the Internet. And clearly, I was too lazy to figure it out.

I will be back later this week with some pictures and info on our trip.

It was fun. Very fun. And long. Very long.

It produced a lot of laundry and miscellaneous stuff that I don't know what to do with or where to put now. I hate that part of coming home from vacation.

I'm going to bed in about 2.5 hours. It's 4:37pm. I hope I make it that long.

The Fine Line

2011-04-06T23:16:00.003-06:00

What is the fine line between standing up for yourself and being obnoxious?

Almost exactly one month ago, we were in the next town for a hockey game. They have a Target there, and we stopped in to pick up a few things. One of the things I purchased was a t-shirt. A $9.99 t-shirt. It is the same t-shirt as several I bought last summer. When I find a good t-shirt, I buy lots of them in different colors. I was delighted to discover they had this same line (or very similar) of shirts again this year.

I took it home. I washed it. I hung it up in my closet.

The other day, I pulled it out to wear and I noticed that after I had washed it, the hem at the bottom had become all puckered. Clearly, the stitching on it was defective causing the puckering.

No problem. I knew I was going back to the next town today and I could exchange it. I didn't have my receipt, but given that it was a recent purchase and I wanted to exchange it, not return it, it seemed like it would be OK. As an aside, it was very strange for me to not find the receipt. I'll probably find it tomorrow.

So, I went into Target. I explained my sitaution and said I wanted to do an exchange.

They said no.

I was dumbfounded.

And the reason they said no wasn't because I didn't have my receipt. It was because I had washed the shirt.

What?

Girl at counter: Our store policy is that it has to be new for you to return it. Since you washed it, now it's not new.

Me: But I didn't even get to wear it. I washed it and the puckering appeared.

GAC: I'm sorry (waving at a sign behind the counter). That's our policy.

Me: So I'm stuck with a defective shirt. (A statement as opposed to a question)

GAC: According to our policy.

Me: But that's not OK. You sold something defective and that defective quality didn't appear until after I washed it. At some point I was going to have to wash it. You're saying you won't replace this defective item? I would understand if I were trying to return this, but I like the shirt. I just want one that is actually constructed correctly. You won't do an exchange?

GAC: I can't according to our policy.

Me: Can I talk to your manager?

GAC: Actually, I am the front of house manager.

Me: Well then, I need to speak to whomever you report to.

GAC goes away to find her manager.

Declan: Are you mad?

Me: I'm getting there. I'm more frustrated than anything.

Declan: It doesn't seem like she's listening to you.

Finn: Are you going to swear?

GAC comes back. My manager says we have to stick to the policy.

Me: OK, so here's what's going to happen. I spend a lot of money in this store each year. If you refuse to exchange this shirt, I'm walking out of here without shopping today. I will never come back. I live in the next town. I will go home. I will blog about this. I will put it on Facebook. I will tell everyone I know about how you treated me in your store today. Do you really want to have that happen over a $10 shirt?

GAC: I wish I could help you but it's not our store policy to return the item.

Me: OK. Please have your manager come over and tell me this herself.

GAC disappears again. Other manager comes out.

I run through my spiel emphasizing that I want this shirt, but this shirt is defective. I just want a non-defective shirt.

The second manager returns the shirt and offers a refund or store card. In good faith, I take the store card. I use it to buy another shirt. I had to get a different color though--they didn't have my size in the original color.

I felt like Target did the right thing, because seriously, was I so out of line to expect them to take back a defective item even though I didn't have the receipt? Again, I wanted an exchange, not a refund. It was current merchandise.

I'd be so curious as to what you guys think.

As an aside, I worked retail all through high school and college. Apparently you have to fight for your customer service rights these days.

The Internet is my Back Up Brain

2011-04-05T15:53:00.005-06:00

Why do I need to remember anything if it's all on the Internet?

Tonight I'm making something called Frenzied Fried Rice for dinner. It's a favorite around here and it's from a cookbook I love called Desperation Dinners. The base of the meal is leftover rice, which I never have, so I need to make it ahead.

Now, making rice, and pasta even, at high altitudes is always a crap shoot. I find brown rice, which we try to eat a majority of the time (vs. white rice), particularly hard to make. The altitude just does strange things to the amount of water you need and the cooking time.

I have found complete perfection when I make the Food Network's Alton Brown's baked brown rice. An online friend said it's the recipe she uses and now I use it 100% of the time I make brown rice.

So I just looked at the clock and realized it was time to get the rice cooking (it takes 45 minutes to an hour). I've made this rice enough times that I should know the recipe by heart. But I can never remember. Is it 275 degrees or 375 degrees (it's 375). Is it 2 1/2 cups of water or 2 (it's 2 1/2)? One cup of rice or 1 1/2 (1 1/2)?

My point here isn't to tell you how to cook rice (although you should use this recipe. It's a beautiful thing to cook your rice in the oven and never have it boil over on your clean stove ever again). My point is that why can't I remember this simple recipe that I've made a zillion times? But then again, why can't I remember half the stuff I forget?

With Alzheimers on both sides of the family, I worry (obsess) about my mental state to the point that I even downloaded crossword and sudoku apps for my iPad in attempt to save myself from myself.

But I've also realized that there's no reason to really fill my brain with stuff anyway because isn't that what Google is for? I can't tell you how many times Eamonn and I are sitting here watching something or talking about something and one will ask the other, "Do you remember..." fill in the blank with whatever, and the other will reply, "No, but I can Google it and find out." Tap, tap, tap...answer.

I wonder if Google will be the new cure for Alzheimers? I might be onto something.

Declan is 11!

2011-03-29T17:04:00.005-06:00

Oh, how about me? Bad mother, not posting on her son's birthday. I'm trying to remember what we did that I didn't post. We had Declan's birthday party and then I cooked him a special birthday dinner. That's what it was.

It's weird to start thinking back to when I was Declan's age. You know how you don't remember tons about your early life, but I vividly remember being Declan's age--11 in 5th grade. My 5th grade teacher was one of my all-time favorites: Jerry Wilson (he died of a heart attack at a pretty young age--in his 50s, which seems VERY young these days). We went to Washington DC on Spring Break (and got in a car accident). We got a dog. My best friends at school were Anne and Paula. I spent every day I could at the barn riding horses. A woman in our neighborhood had horses/ponies and she would take us out there to ride. We cleaned stalls in exchange for fees sometimes.

I wonder what Declan will remember? Will it be skiing? Hockey? Trips? Watching the Amazing Race or Biggest Loser together? Just being cozy in the house? I fear playing Wii will probably rank up there.

When Declan was born, everyone talked about how it goes so fast. It does. Of course it does. Not always when you're in it though--dealing with teething, a stomach virus, or whatever.

Other than some sleep issues when he was about 6 months old, Declan was a really easy baby. He was curious and pretty quiet. He liked to observe. He's still a little cautious--picking his way down the ski slope (vs. Finn who comes down like a B52 bomber). Isn't it funny how the very core of us doesn't really change over time?

But time does go fast and I think I'm realizing more and more. He rides his bike to friends' houses now instead of me taking him. He enjoys reading to himself at bedtime now. He's definitely asserting himself in other areas of life. He has had a little romance already (I KNOW--5th grade, what the heck!?!?!).

In less time than he has already been on this Earth, he will be leaving for college. That statistic is shocking to me.

When Declan was about 6 weeks old, we were at Theresa and Skylar's house and we went out for a walk, pushing Declan in the stroller. Of course I was still all new mom-ish and hormonal and stuff, and Theresa's boys, Eamon and Jeremiah, were about 19 and 22, I think. One in college, one graduated. It was inconceivable to me and I said as much to Theresa.

"How can you stand to let them go?" I asked.

And she replied, "I think Skylar and I knew from the beginning that as much as we love them, our job is about preparing them to leave."

Stab, stab, stab at my heart.

But she's right. And I want to make sure that I enjoy every last second of this "preparing to leave phase" of this adorable boy.

Happy Birthday, Declan (just a few days late)!

The Agony of Defeat...and Other Life Lessons

2011-03-20T20:33:00.003-06:00

We have been home from the state hockey finals for about three hours now. There is a little bit of sadness, a little bit of wound licking, and a lot of talking about what might have been.

Three Vail Eagle Hockey Association teams went to states: Squirt B (Declan's team of 9 and 10 year olds--and a few 8 years olds!), Peewee B (11 and 12 year olds), and Peewee A (also 11 and 12 year olds). Three teams from our little valley--that's pretty darn good.

Both Peewee teams lost on Saturday, but Declan's team, the Squirt Bs, duked it out with a very strong team from Boulder (whose coach indicated to ours that as soon they got through this "formality" of playing us they were heading to the final) to advance to the final round this morning.

And as exciting as that semi-final game was on Saturday, Sunday was even more dramatic. If you're unfamiliar with hockey, here's the scoop, at Declan's age group, they play three 12-minute periods with a short break in between to catch their breath.

There are 5 players and a goalie on the ice.

Depending on the tournament or league rules, if there is a tie after regulation, they might go to overtime. Or they might have one overtime followed by a shootout--it just depends.

So at this tournament, it was all overtime. On Saturday, two teams played into a third overtime. I was exhausted just watching.

Anyway, we played through the first two periods today--no score. We outshot them 18 - 8, but just couldn't land one in the net. Angst from the stands, I'm telling you. So many missed opportunities! Then, with 1 min., 40 seconds left in regulation play, they opposing team scored.

I figured that was it. I think all the boys thought that was it. Declan thought that was it. He was devastated. It's hard when you're the goalie. No matter how many times you tell a goalie you win and lose as a team, you feel like in the end, when they score, it's your fault.

I could never be a goalie.

Back to the game. Play resumed with 1 min., 40 seconds to go. They were clearly trying to tie things up--rightly so. They did something called icing and ran the clock down to under a minute. They iced the puck again at 17 seconds and started cheering.

But there were 9 seconds left on the clock.

Our coach had a word with our boys, set them up for the face off near the opposing team's net, and BAM, the puck dropped and a kid named Joey flipped it in with 5 seconds to go.

Holy cow. We went nuts. A level playing field, as it were, and we headed into a 10 minute four on four sudden death overtime.

In the end, the opposing team scored 6 minutes into overtime and it was over. Our boys fought hard to the end, but it wasn't enough this time.

There were tears--and not just from the players. Our season was ending today regardless of a win or a loss and I think with either ending, it would have been bittersweet.

Every time the boys have played a sport, I'm always sad when the season is over. Even though I marvel at how much time we spend at the rink, compared to some families with multiple kids in multiple age groups, it's not that bad. And even though hockey spans a hideous length of time--September tryouts - March state finals--it really encompasses some of our best family times of the year (although Finn might debate that when he is tolerating a 5-day tournament in another city).

But the end of the season brings some sadness with it. Those of you with kids in team sports or activities know what I'm talking about when you realize that everyone is moving on and you probably won't be together again. Sometimes you're going on with a few or the same kids and parents, or many--it just depends--but let's face it--over the course of 5 or 6 months, you form bonds watching your kids practice, compete, win and lose together. Every time we have a changeover in teams or coaches, I feel a little bereft and think, "Nothing could be as good as this year was."

Happily, I'm pretty much always wrong. We have made great and lasting friendships over the years through sports. New teams bring a combination of old friends and potential new friends. And we're just in that transition phase again. Waiting to see what the next season brings.

But there was something special about this group of kids. Declan has talked about it before--they all genuinely like each other. It's a camraderie that is really deep for kids of this age.

As Declan was walking upstairs to bed tonight, he said, "I wish today would have turned out differently. But what I'm really sad about is that hockey season is over."

I am in 100 percent agreement.

Grrrrrr

2011-03-17T16:55:00.003-06:00

I am so incredibly annoyed with myself. I have apparently lost our pretty new video camera. The one that had 80 GB of memory and that was completely full of an entire season of hockey...and clips of my Grandpa talking about "the old days."

Fortunately, I discovered that I did backup the videos of Grandpa, so I do feel slightly better about that, but no hockey. And no camera. I used it at the last hockey game on Sunday afternoon and I can only imagine that it must have rolled out of my bag and someone picked it up. There were so many people from out of town at the rink on Sunday, it's the only thing I can think of. I haved searched the house and the ice rink--no luck. It's gone. I feel a little sick-ish at the thought of how much we paid for the camera. I've been emotionally eating all day. Sigh.

I'm trying to decide if I have it in me to go exercise. It's 5pm. The time change is kicking my ass, frankly. In addition to my own work and lots of meetings this week, I have also been up early to work on the mountain three days in a row.

I'm not feelin' the love. I'm telling myself I should just take a bath and go to bed early.

And let's talk about the bed since you guys asked.

The Tempurpedic. I love it. Beyond love it. What's beyond loving it? I don't know, but whatever it is, that's what I'm feeling.

We've had it for about a month now and I'm sleeping really well. I think the two biggest factors in that department are:

-It's a bigger bed--we went from a queen to a king (which should make sleeping in a DOUBLE at the hotel in Denver tomorrow night fairly miserable) so we are no longer crashing into each other in the night. The downside of that was the other night Eamonn told me it was too far to go to give me a kiss goodnight. Travel is involved if you want to kiss your spouse.

-The stop motion. Stop motion is my new best friend. And basically, if Eamonn moves over there in the hinterlands of his side of the bed, I don't really know it. Unless he's pulling the covers off me. I do feel that. But if he gets up or comes to bed after me, or if I come to bed later, the other has no clue. The bed does not move. And it's awesome.

Plus, I find the bed very, very comfortable. We bought the Cloud model, which was sort of middle of the road in terms of firmness. The next level down was like sleeping on a brick. The next level up was the Cloud Supreme and it has another layer on the top that to me, made it too soft. It was also a zillion dollars more, so it's a good thing I didn't like that. We also got new pillows. They were having a promotion where you bought two and got one free.

The most common concerns about these beds are apparently the smell and that they "sleep hot."

The smell. I thought the pillows off-gassed far longer than the bed. The bed had been on a truck for two days in the mountains on its way to us. It was pretty cold and hard when it got here. I left it to sit for about 8 hours before I put any cover or sheets on it. I was expecting it to make the whole room smell weird. It didn't. In fact, I confess I didn't even notice the smell. The pillows were a little smellier for a few days, but then again, my head was right on it. It really didn't phase me though.

As for the bed making you feel hot. Yes, it does increase your body temp, I think. Normally in the winter, I sleep in a t-shirt, pajama pants, and heavy wool socks. We don't have a blanket on our bed, but we have always had a down comfortor. I have always put a blanket, folded over 4 times, on my side of the bed. Eamonn has no need for extra covers. I like the warmth and I like heavy covers on me.

We no longer have the down comfortor. It doesn't fit the new bed and I haven't bought anything yet. We are using a basic comfortor, not down. It's a queen size, but when you turn it sideways it fits the bed. It's just stopgap until I find what I want, but it works for now. Anyway, the bed does make me a little warmer, so I don't sleep in pajama pants. Now I'm down to a t-shirt, boxers, heavy socks, the queen comfortor, and the blanket folded 4 times. Not hugely different, but somewhat different. On another note, we aren't having a very cold winter either, so I wasn't always wearing pajama pants prior to this bed getting here.

I wake up rested (when I get in bed before midnight!!!). I'm not sore anymore. I feel like I'm sleeping better.

I don't know if Eamonn is as enamoured of the bed as I am. There are some issues with the financing. The terms Tempurpedic sent us are different than those that arrived from Wells Fargo and Eamonn is really ticked about that. He said he had a good mind to send the bed back after 90 days (which you can do). I shed a little tear over that threat.

I love the bed and don't want it to go away.

League Champs!

2011-03-15T22:02:00.002-06:00

Declan's hockey team won the league title over the weekend. Very exciting! They will now go on to try and win the state title in Denver. One more weekend of hockey.

What will I do with all of my free time? Sleep?

Shaving: Round Two

2011-03-11T22:10:00.004-07:00

Yesterday we went on the local TV station and Eamonn and the boys shaved on live TV.

Before you go thinking we were on the Today Show or something like that, I should clarify that the local station is owned by the ski resort, so there were probably about 10 people watching. Maybe.

Anyway, if you'd like to check out the segment, you can do so HERE. You can even see our local weather forecast sandwiched between our two shaving segments.

Here are a few pictures of us on air:

That is a serious mop top!

Shaving: Round One

2011-03-08T22:10:00.005-07:00

Because hockey playoffs are this coming weekend and that coincides with our favorite charitable event, St. Baldrick's Day, it was necessary to do a little early shaving around here...

Shavee No. 1: Declan

Up in the chair and ready to go. We had the shaving at the rink after practice last night.

Basically, all of the players whose teams qualified for playoffs could opt to shave early.

I think he's adorable bald...all those freckles...I wonder if I can still call him adorable?

Before we arrived at the rink, we were a little worried. Only a few players were pre-registered.

We shouldn't have worried. Good luck this weekend, boys!

Wow, boys. Way to go! To them, it's tons of fun. I hope they know how much good they're doing while they're having fun.

Money is still coming in. A huge THANK YOU to everyone!

St. Baldrick's 2011

2011-02-27T20:52:00.003-07:00

Well, everyone, it’s that time of year again: Hair will be flying and scalps will be showing as Eamonn, Declan AND the Mighty Finn go bald to raise money for the St. Baldrick’s Foundation whose mission is to conquer kids’ cancer.

We are grateful for your continued support over the years. Recently, we have been in contact with a family whose son was diagnosed with the same kind of cancer Finn had. It has been a painful and important reminder that the battle to find a cure is not over. Not even close. Every day—every hour—a family’s world is changing forever as they hear: “Your child has cancer.”

A few days ago, I was writing an e-mail to Declan’s hockey team, many of whom will be shaving their heads for St. Baldrick’s as well. They wanted to know more about Finn’s journey. I was wrapping up the e-mail and I typed the words, “In 2012, after 5 years of clean blood work, Finn will be declared cancer free.” Just by writing that, my eyes filled with tears. So much has happened since April 7, 2004, the day Finn was diagnosed, to bring us to this place where we are today. Did I ever imagine on April 7, 2004, that I’d be watching Finn play hockey so aggressively he’d get sent to the penalty box? Did I think I’d ever watch Finn fly down a mountain in front of me going Mach 2 and yelling “Woo Hoo!” as he goes? I barely dared to think about it, but today, that is reality and we are so grateful. Beyond grateful even. All of you were there for us at that very difficult time; we couldn’t have done it without you.

So now, we’ve got our hands out on behalf of St. Baldrick’s again. The economy still isn’t the greatest—we know this. We also know that you have other charities you support and are a part of. However, if you are so inclined to contribute this year, be it $5, $10, $100, it would be so appreciated. Links are below. You can donate to Team Mighty Finn as a whole, or you can sponsor Finn, Declan or Eamonn on their own. It all goes to the same great place—funding for pediatric cancer research.

Our local event is scheduled for Saturday, March 12, from 1 – 5 p.m., so if you live in the Eagle area, come hang out and join the fun!

Team Mighty Finn

Finn’s Page

Declan’s Page

Eamonn’s Page

As always, thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.

Love,
Natalie, Eamonn, Declan and, of course, The Mighty Finn!

Check out the guys shaving in 2010. (This year, Eamonn and Finn will shave LIVE on Vail’s TV8 on Thursday, March 10, at 9:12am. The five people who get that channel should tune in to watch…)

They Did it Again

2011-02-24T20:13:00.002-07:00

I swear, this is the Little Team that Could

Which of These Things is Not Like the Other?

2011-02-20T16:59:00.008-07:00

Take a look and see if you can figure it out...

I know! Who's that totally tall dude who is, we estimate, a foot taller than any of us!?

That's Bigfoot! I'm not going to put his real name on here because his mom, M, has been so careful to protect her family's identities on the Internet all these years (unlike me).

Anyway, M's daughter and Finn had the same type of cancer and we "met," as often happens, through various and sundry Caringbridge pages oh so many years ago. And Postcard Cindy (who we called Cindy from Sonoma) also played a role :). Crazy how the Internet works, isn't it?

So, M's son, who is known on M's blog as Bigfoot, goes to college in Colorado and came to meet us because we are near his school at a hockey tournament this weekend.

Finn couldn't get over how tall Bigfoot is. I couldn't get over how tall he is. Funny story: I told Bigfoot to call me when he got to the rink so he wouldn't have to pay. He called, I couldn't get signal. So I ran down one set of steps while he walked up a different set of steps. I got to the entrance area and he wasn't there. I asked the guy at the front, "Did a really tall guy just come through here?" The guy laughed. "He went that way," and motioned up the other steps. M had said, "You can't miss him," and she was right.

Thank you M and Bigfoot! Truly, what a great kid. Now we just need to meet M...

So we've been at this tournament since Thursday. We drove here in a snowstorm, of course. Thursday was Eamonn's birthday. He left the house and ended up in a ditch in his work van. He couldn't even get to the house he was supposed to be working at, so he came home early, ready to head out of town. I was there, still in my sweats, trying to finish work and discovering that the dryer didn't work. We had to take a load over to our neighbor's. And of course, it was a load that included my underwear. Nice. They're great friends and neighbors, but I feel we may have breached some sort of ettiquette by putting my undies in their dryer. I may have to gift them with something spectacular to get past this.

This tournament is long. The boys played twice on Friday and then once each day since. They have won all of their games, so we will stay for the final tomorrow. I enjoy eating out every once in awhile, but this is a long time. To make up for it, I have been going to exercise to my DVDs in a hotel conference room set aside for all of the hockey teams to hang out and play knee hockey. This morning, even though I was in there by 5am, I was discovered by some hotel workers who were coming in to clean. Maybe it's just me, but I don't really dig having other people watch me leap around while I'm exercising. Fortunately, I was almost finished, but had they been 5 minutes earlier, they would have seen me jab, cross, hook, upper cutting my way through Chalene Johnson's TurboFire. I've seen my reflection in the windows at home. I'm not exactly coordinated looking.

Whatever.

So the fact that the hockey games have been really spread out have allowed us to do some siteseeing around Colorado Springs. Yesterday, we toured the Olympic Training Center here. Eamonn and I were blubbering our way through one of the videos they show featuring the para-Olympians. Very inspiring and touching.

Today we toured the Air Force Academy. I can pretty much rest assured that the boys don't have that school in their sights after watching the video about what the cadets go through!

A few pics of our weekend so far...

Eamonn's friend, Craig, who is on the wall of Olympic athletes. We were talking about how we'd never find his picture (they're not alphabetical or anything) and we were standing right in front of him.

Bobsledding on a slightly slower surface.

Declan in front of a goalie cut out on the Olympic Training Center tour.

Air Force Academy Chapel.

Inside the chapel.

I think the most exciting thing for the boys at the Air Force Academy was discovering there is a Subway in the visitor's center.

I'd Better End Up in a Really Nice Nursing Home

2011-02-10T14:43:00.006-07:00

February is usually a quieter work month for me. Every other month, I'm kind of slammed and so starting last week, things should have calmed down a little bit. They didn't. Therefore, I haven't posted.

So there's my excuse for being an absentee blogger.

Last Saturday, Finn's hockey team was invited to play in between periods at the Colorado Avalanche game (NHL hockey). How fun would that be to be 7 or 8 years old and play on NHL ice in front of thousands of people? Of course we were going.

And of course, we woke up to snow.

Although the rest of you are getting hammered this winter and even though the ski resorts are swimming in snow, in our town, we have not had snow other than a random dusting here and there. Not even enough to get the snowplows out. It has been very, very unusual.

But since we had to drive to Denver and be there at a specific time, of course, it snowed. A lot.

Normally, the drive to the Pepsi Center would take right around 2 hours. The journey there took about 3 1/2 hours. The journey home took about 4 1/2 hours. Possibly more. I think I blacked out for much of the drive. And by drive, I mean driving about 1 mph for several hours. No lie.

And that wasn't even the longest amount of time it has taken me to get home from Denver. Dec. 30, 2006, holds that record at 6 hours. It's a record I hope I never break.

Anyway, we made it, the kids skated, and it was very cool. I hope they appreciate it when they're older because other than one family, I think the whole team made it.

A few pics. I realize the kids look like aemoebas down there. We were literally in the top row of the Pepsi Center. Top row. The nose-bleediest seats you can get. Great for watching hockey, not great for taking pictures. If you click on the pictures, you'll see bigger versions. I think.

Finn is in a gray jersey and is wearing white socks with two small blue stripes on either side of a bigger red stripe (thank goodness for those Columbus Blue Jackets socks--they have helped me ID my kids from afar many times). In this pictures, he's right by the "R" in Pepsi CenteR.

In this one, he's right next to the rectangle that says Chipotle.

Here his left skate is nearly on the circle.

He's about to cross the blue line...

The boys in our top row seats.

Long, fun day. I didn't get to eat at Smashburger on the way home though. I guess we can't have it all.

We Bought a Mattress

2011-01-31T19:34:00.005-07:00

And the purchase was.....a Tempurpedic. The Cloud model to be exact.

Thank you, everyone, for your input. People are serious about their mattresses!

The buying process was sort of comical. I went to a local store near us once by myself.

Then I waited.

Because I was afraid.

My word, have you seen the price on those bad boys?

I left brochures lying strategically around the house.

I rubbed my neck a lot.

I thrashed around in bed and stole all the covers.

I short-sheeted the bed.

Just kidding. That would serve no point. Except that it would be funny. Unless I forgot and got in bed first.

Last Saturday afternoon, we were near the other mattress store in the valley. I suggested a trip just to look.

We were there for an hour and a half.

Every time I turned around, Eamonn was on a different Tempurpedic bed.

He says he didn't fall asleep, but I question that assertion.

We got a quote. We made budget. It looked grim.

And then we found out that if we bought through the website we could get three years of financing, interest free.

Bingo.

The bed won't be delivered for 1 - 3 weeks, which is good because I need to buy new sheets and a comforter--we're graduating to a KING!!!

My neck feels better already.

Public Humiliation

2011-01-24T23:21:00.003-07:00

So I haven't really written about my humiliating ski lesson last week. The one that I'm still sore from...4 days later. The one where I stamped my skis and said a bunch of bad words--not always under my breath. Or how about where I thought I was going to fall into a tree well and die.

I love skiing. Although last week I was unsure why, exactly.

It has been fun to see the boys learn to ski (except for the crashing--I could do without seeing/hearing about THEM crashing). To see them go from just wobbling around on their skis to skiing better than me, in Declan's case. I take lessons because I want to continue to improve. And, I don't want the boys to be that much better than me, if I can help it. I'm competitive that way.

Anyway, last week I was in the horrendous ski lesson. It was a male instructor and two other men. One dude was 65 and is having a knee replacement in March. And he pretty much tore my legs off all day. Not that I find that embarassing or anything. But I wanted to challenge myself. I'm sort of stuck at this high intermediate level and I want to be better. I want to ski steeper runs with more confidence. I want to ski bumps. I want to ski powder.

I was feeling all confident and went out with this group. I was OK at the start, but then, I wanted to leave. I wanted to ski into the trees (without hitting any of them) and hide until they all went away. Maybe ski patrol could just find me in their sweep at the end of the day and I could say I got lost or separated from my group. We were coming down runs that were making me whimper and say things like, "I can't! I'm afraid!" And I was.

Then there was the point that I was just sliding down a run on my back. As it was a steep run, I was going pretty fast on my back. Faster than I'd actually been going on my skis, I'm pretty certain. As an FYI, a lot of snow goes down your coat in that position.

After one ridiculous descent, the instructor, who was really good incidentally and I'd take a lesson from him again, came over to me. I was standing to the side of the lift line shaking the snow out of my underwear. The two other men in the group sort of skiied past me because I think they knew the instructor wanted to talk to me. So he skis up. I can't tell if he's amused or horrified.

Him: "Um, what happened there on Cataract?"

Me: "Which part? Where I slid down on my back? Where I slid down on my side? Where I fell backwards? Could you be more specific? Or did you mean where I almost ran into the tree before that vertical drop?"

I was kind of grumpy at that point.

I struggled through three embarassing black diamond runs before the old guy's knee was giving out (FINALLY my prayers were answered--I thought I was going to have to get all Tonya Harding on him to take him out) and we had to go to some cruisers to finish up the day (I have never been so relieved).

I've spent the last four days cringing thinking about that lesson. I've had a chance to lick my wounds, pretend it really wasn't that bad, and bathe myself in Ben Gay.

Tonight I stayed up late to finish my work so I can go do it all again tomorrow.

Totally whack.

And on Today's Episode of "As the Emergency Room Turns..."

2011-01-21T19:34:00.003-07:00

In the last ten and three quarters years, I have spent more time in emergency medical situations than I did in the entire first 32 years of my life.

I remember when I was in fifth grade and my teacher, who had two boys, would tell stories about how his sons were constantly breaking or spraining appendages, requiring stitches, or getting general injuries requiring medical attention.

Having two sisters, I totally couldn't relate. Girls. We just don't tend to end up in the ER as often, apparently. At least not in my family.

As a result, I feel woefully unprepared for the medical drama that is associated with boys. You know, like scalpings, impalement, hypoxia, wrist breakages, other miscellaneous scalp lacs and head traumas. Please note: not all of these injuries belong to the little people in this house.

Anyway, for the last two days, the boys have been at Learn to Ski days for school. Since they would be skiing until 3:30pm each day, I took advantage of the opportunity to take a ski lesson myself.

I won't go into the various forms of torture my ski instructor put me through, but today, I wasn't so eager to run back out to the mountain. So I stayed home getting caught up on work. Around 12:45pm, I realized I was going to be finished around 1:30pm and since I had to go to the resort to pick up the kids anyway, I figured I'd at least go make a couple of runs to be sure all of my limbs were still in working order.

Thirty seconds later, the phone rang. It was Eamonn saying that he had just received a call. Declan had "taken a digger," in his words, and was at the mountain's medical center.

Now, over the years I've worked to stay calm in a crisis, but the first words out of my mouth were, "Why did they call you insted of me?" Not, "Oh no! My baby! Is he hurt?" Maybe I need to be a little less calm in a crisis and not worry why the medical people didn't call me since I was the one on the emergency contact forms (Turns out, Declan gave them the wrong phone number for me, but remembered Eamonn's number perfectly. I reminded him that BOTH numbers are on the back of his helmet...and in the pocket of his coat...).

Anyway, I was still in my workout clothes so I threw on real clothing and ran out the door.

Declan had been skiing down a steep-ish run and, in Eamonn's words, "took a digger," hitting himself in the nose with his ski pole on the way down and leaving a nice pool of blood in the snow which always creates a lot of excitement--all of that red on the lovely contrasting white, right? Because there was a lot of blood and he was dizzy, his ski instructor called ski patrol and Declan became the first person in our family to have the honor of being littered off the mountain on the ski patrol sled.

Sweet.

(I had a million questions about how comfortable that was. He said it wasn't that bad.)

An x-ray confirmed there was no serious injury. Words like "nasal contusion" and "mild closed head injury" are on the discharge papers (as in, his nose is bruised and he bumped his head). However, he is restricted from any sports for the next week. He'll be cleared to play hockey just before his game next Saturday (good news since he's the goalie). They take head injuries very seriously these days.

Once discharged, he ate a cheeseburger the size of Texas with a side of fries and then ran down the Beaver Creek cookie lady to get one of the free, warm chocolate chip cookies that are given out every day at 3pm.

I'm pretty sure he's feeling just fine.

See you next time on "As the Emergency Room Turns." Or not if we're lucky. Ha.

The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio

2011-01-19T22:11:00.003-07:00

Has anyone ever seen this movie? I watched it a few years ago. I don't think it was any sort of blockbuster, but having grown up in Ohio, I was intrigued by the title.

Julianne Moore plays a mom with a zillion kids and a drunkard husband (Woody Harrelson) and she has to end up supporting the family by entering contests and writing jingles. It's just a good story--no car chases, gun battles or anything like that.

But recently I was thinking it's a good thing my family doesn't rely on me to write jingles and win contests to support us because...we'd starve. When I see contests on the Internet, sometimes I enter (and they don't even require me to write a jingle). Usually they're on the Pioneer Woman's site. I don't know why I keep trying to win a Kitchen Aid stand mixer on her contests. I have an amazing Bosch mixer that could do handstands around that Kitchen Aid, I'm sure. And yet, I want that shiny red, yellow, black, whatever color it is this week, mixer.

And the knives. Why would I want to win knives? We recieved Cutco knives for our wedding. Those knives will outlive me, and yet I enter contests for knives.

The other day I was desperately trying to win a new Cooking Light cookbook. Because apparently the two I have don't suffice.

I never win, so it clearly makes no difference anyway.

Once, in the late 80s, I won something. My friend, Andrea, and I went to the Festival of Trees in Columbus, and we bought raffle tickets for two round trip airfares to anywhere in the continental U.S. on American Airlines.

I won.

I never used them. I gave them to Andrea. Even though they weren't transferrable. And the story of her trying to use these tickets as me is hilarious and never could have actually happened in a post 9/11 world.

I won Bingo once in 7th grade.

My point here is that I'm totally negative on contests. Before Christmas, Finn entered some contest through Lego whereby he would win thousands of dollars worth of Lego. In his head, he was going to win. It's hard to know--do you let them have hope that they might win or do you crush their tiny spirits with the speech about how it's more likely that he'll be struck by lightening than win that contest?

It's a hard call. I think I gave the lightening speech.

Killjoy.

I'll need to remember that the next time I enter a contest for anything on PW's site.

And the Mother of The Year Award Goes To...Not Me...

2011-01-14T10:10:00.004-07:00

Ugh. One of my main goals in life is to get my kids off to school happy, calm, well fed and ready to face the day.

Today I figure I'm 0 for 4. As in, not batting a thousand.

Does anyone else get sick of repeating themselves over and over and over again? I often joke that parenting is all about marketing--package and present something attractively enough and they're going to bite. "It's 6:45am! Isn't that great? Hope out of bed and I'll have some hot chocolate waiting for you!" Or we're doing something exciting after schooo, or it's movie night, or those beets give you superpowers...whatever.

And I'm just kidding about the beets. I despise them so I never make them.

Anyway, parenting, as we know, isn't only about marketing, it's also about retition. But I feel like my life lately is repeating myself repeating myself over and over again. And no one is apparently listening or learning.

When I go upstairs before we walk to school, beds are not made, blinds are not open, night lights are not turned off. I estimate I have reminded them to do these things several thousand times. Literally.

I'm also dismayed and disappointed at my children's gimme gimme gimme get get get attitudes. They get an allowance (which I informed them this morning is in jeopardy if they cannot start completing even the simplest morning tasks without reminding) that burns a hole in their pocket from the second it lands there. I don't know why I find their incessant, "Can you take me to the store to buy this and this and this and this," commentary so draining. It's right up there with the constant stream of, "Can I play DS/Wii/computer?"

So this morning, after yet another question of when I could take a certain person to the store to buy a certain something, I cracked. I yelled. I shouted. I slammed stuff down on the counter.

I stunned everyone into silence and sulleness.

That felt great. Not.

The problem, of course, is me. Me not sticking to my guns about no electronics during the week. Me not outlining expectations and then sticking to them. It is always so painfully obvious to me when I am being inconsistent. What kid wouldn't flounder around in the face of inconsistency?

So I foresee a family meeting in our very near future where we re-affirm the rules for all parties, discuss consequences and also behaviorial expectations. Because really, do I need to remind you to do the same 3 things every morning? I think not. Even if you are just 8 and 10.

Sigh.

I'm glad it's Friday. I feel weary.

Mattresses. Yet again.

2011-01-11T19:53:00.002-07:00

I swear this will be my last mattress post for awhile. I need to hit the town and do more research. But I wanted to tell you something funny that Finn said today. He and Declan frequently sleep in the same room--sometimes in the double bed in Finn's room, sometimes in Declan's bunk beds. For the past week, they've been in Finn's room. These last few nights have been really cold so I'm guessing a little extra body heat is nice.

Anyway, yesterday Finn informed me that he needed a Tempurpedic mattress. Keep in mind, neither of the boys have been with me when I shopped for a mattress. I've probably mentioned it though.

The reason Finn says he needs a Tempurpedic mattress is so that when he gets up in the middle of the night, he doesn't wake Declan by moving the bed.

My issues:
-Why is he getting up in the middle of the night?
-He is clearly watching too much TV.

My next post will not be about mattresses. But wow, you guys are passionate about your mattresses.

Mattresses, Part Two

2011-01-07T19:51:00.004-07:00

Who knew that mattresses would be such an interesting topic for all of us? People are very passionate about their mattresses, or else they're looking for a new one, it seems.

Anyway, this evening I had a chance to go to a mattress store nearby. I have two choices for mattress stores--one right nearby and one about 20 miles up valley. And there is always Costco, but I peered around in there and was unimpressed.

So I went into the store with some questions. First, my sister has a memory foam mattress. They really like it, but feel like it's already.....

BREAKING IN TO SAY A MATTRESS COMMERCIAL JUST CAME ON. WEIRD. It's for the Sleep Number. More about that...

Picking up where I left off...my sister and brother-in-law like the Memory Foam, but after just a year and a half, they are already noticing it compressing.

A fact for you: the average mattress is only designed to last 8 - 10 years. I think we've squeaked plenty of life out of ours for 20 years. Another fact: It's standard for a typical spring coil mattress to compress 1 1/2 inches over those 8 - 10 years--that's that whole mattress sag thing.

So first I asked what the diff is between the Memory Foam and the Tempurpedic. Because even though I slept on the "inferior" Memory Foam, I liked it. I liked it so much that I know I could be very happy with that style of mattress.

The store had samples of the different foams: Memory Foam vs. Tempurpedic. You can feel the difference easily. The reason Tempurpedic is so bloody expensive is that their foam is patented and guaranteed not to compress more than 1/4 inch over 20 years. So allegedly you don't get that sinking compression with the Tempurpedic.

Another difference is that Tempurpedic is made with these channels to keep you cool. Apparently the Memory Foam beds are pretty hot and the Tempurpedic is designed to address this. I don't recall being hot when I slept on the Memory Foam, but other people have mentioned this to me.

I'm a little freaked out about a bed that is chemically made. Shouldn't I be buying some organic cotton mattress instead?

I did also talk to the guy about air beds. Until someone mentioned it in the comments section, I had to idea that the whole concept behind beds like the Sleep Number Bed (there are other makers and this guy I talked to tonight said he could order one he thought was superior)is that it's air. I had no clue.

I do have to say that not having slept on a Sleep Number Bed, I'm a little leery. What if I didn't like it? I also worry about "working parts" having to be replaced and stuff. I get enough of that with my 12 year old car!

I'm continuing with my research and I'll keep updating you. The big downer about the Tempurpedic bed is the price. Ay yi yi! And the guy said Tempurpedic never goes on sale. He also said no one ever returns them.

The search continues...

The Princess and the Pea

2011-01-05T21:30:00.003-07:00

We need a new mattress.

I realize there are wants and needs.

In this case, we need a new mattress. In my opinion.

It's not like it's falling inward, like my friend said hers was doing, but after waking up with a sore back for weeks on end, I started pondering our current mattress, and I realized it's over 20 years old. Is it even legal to sleep on a 20-year old mattress?

So this post is a question for you. Do you still sleep on a traditional mattress? If not, what are you using? Tempurpedic (I LOVE my Tempurpedic pillow, which really isn't actually the Tempurpedic brand, but it's one of those memory foam ones)? Sleep Number? Something else?

I'm torn. And clearly I need to do more research. Eamonn and I have both slept on a Tempurpedic or memory foam mattress. We both agreed it was possibly the best night's sleep ever.

And who doesn't want to sleep on a bed that you can put a glass of red wine on and then jump up and down next to it without spilling it?

Weird thing though--I have yet to talk to a chiropractor who recommend the Tempurpedic.

I have talked to two chiropractors about matresses and they have both recommended the Sleep Number bed. I have no experience with it. Our friends have one. He likes it; she is on the fence.

So, I'd love to know what you're sleeping on and how you like it.

If that doesn't sound too kinky.

'Twas the Night After Christmas

2010-12-26T17:49:00.005-07:00

One of my favorite Christmas albums (now converted to a CD because who has a turntable anymore?) is by Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians and it was one of the annual albums put out by Firestone. I think my parents got these free each year when they put snow tires on. Speaking of which, remember the days when people still put snow tires on in the winter? (We still do that out here and they're actually on more months of the year than our summer tires. But I digress)

So, back to Fred Waring from Firestone.

Side 1 is the "fun" side and has great versions of Jingle Bells and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. The last song is 'Twas the Night Before Christmas (in fact, it's the name of the album), but it has a little add-on that always made me a little melancholy when I would hear it because it kind of sums up the end of Christmas. When you're a kid, you aren't about the anticipation of Christmas (not like now, when I'm old. Er.). You just want Christmas to GET HERE NOW.

So the add-on to 'Twas the Night Before Christmas on the Fred Waring album goes like this:

'Twas the night after Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The presents are scattered and broken I fear, and St. Nicholas won't come again for a year.

The children are nestled all snug in their wee little beds, while memories of sugar plums dance in their wee little heads.

Mama in her kerchief, papa in his cap, are settled at last, for a long winter's nap.

We actually had a great day after Christmas. We had discussed going skiing, but when this morning rolled around, I felt very unmotivated. It wouldn't have been hard at all to convince me to stay home.

Fortunately, Eamonn was more motivated and we had a great day out in the fresh air--which we badly needed!

Finn had his first day with poles (you don't typically ski with poles until you reach a certain level) so he was pretty excited. Or so it seemed when I was following him down the mountain with his WOOOO HOOOOs flying over his shoulder.

I could be mistaken.

Now I'm bingeing on leftovers and watching White Christmas.

Again.

Ghosts of Christmas Past

2010-12-24T22:36:00.000-07:00

So the screensaver on my computer is anything in my "My Pictures" folder on my computer. Sometimes I'll see something hideous flash up, like pictures I've taken of myself to document starting an exercise routine, but mostly they're sweet and make me want to sit down and watch the slide show all day.

I rarely have time to do that.

But tonight, I bring you some of my favorite pictures of Christmases over the years.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

2008

2009

2010

Are You Holipausal?

2010-12-21T11:12:00.003-07:00

So yesterday, Tara and I coined (at least I think we're the first to come up with it--I should Google it) a new phrase for how women feel at the holidays: holipausal.

I felt holipausal last year: rushed, stessed, not able to slow down and enjoy the season. This year, I'm holding steady, which I attribute to getting the shopping and wrapping finished last week, leaving this week open to lying around and complaining about the rain (more about that later).

The term holipausal came about when Tara was telling me about a meltdown she had over the Christmas tree, which they did not have, could not find, and her husband was talking about waiting until the day before Christmas Eve to get. I'll spare you the gory details, but, as anyone would assume when a woman has a meltdown, I asked Tara if she had PMS. She said, "No, unfortunately, because that would be the best way to explain away everything!"

So if you're not premenstrual, menstrual or postmenstrual, and you're still having a holiday meltdown, you must be holipausal.

Or we're just psycho. Take your pick.

Like I said, everything here is ready for Santa, but two things are causing me angst:

1. The weather. It is raining. RAINING, people. For days. This is why I left Ohio--38 degrees and RAINING. Ironically, Ohio is having a white Christmas, while here, for the first time in decades, it is Christmas week and there is not a lick of snow on the ground at our elevation and none is forecast to be. The resorts have plenty, which is important, but here? Nothing. All of our traditional outdoor Christmas activities have gone awry. No snowshoeing. No sledding. It hasn't even been cold enough to freeze the ice for the town park rink. We could go skiing, of course, but we'd wait in the rain in the parking lot for the shuttle. I do not feel compelled to make "waiting in the rain to ski" one of our new Christmas traditions. For the first few weeks of December, Declan complained and complained that we didn't have snow. "Just wait," I assured him. "Our snow will come." Apparently, I am a huge liar.

2. My Dad called to say that he had shipped the boys' presents and they would likely arrive at the post office late this week. We have no mail delivery in our town, which means everyone has to pick up their mail and packages at the post office. Hence, even at the best of times, the post office is a nightmare. The very thought of having to go to the post office is making me feel faint.

Or maybe I'm just going through holipause.

Baking is Exhausting

2010-12-18T19:22:00.004-07:00

My Mom is here! Last night, Tara and Garvin came over and spent the night. After the kids went to bed, we stayed up late eating popcorn and watched an English murder mystery. It did take place at Christmas so I think it qualifies as a holiday movie.

Anyway, we baked Christmas cookies all day today and at this point, I can barely keep my eyes open. Apparently I forget from year that baking requires effort. Put half of your attention on the Little House on the Prairie Christmas episode, It's a Wonderful Life and White Christmas and fuggedaboutit. It'll sap all of your strength.

The boys decorated their gingerbread houses:

Then we watched an Andy Williams Christmas Show retrospective and now I'm a little depressed because it is clear to me that I will probably not meet Andy Williams before I die. Or he dies. Whichever comes first. Either way, he is clearly not out there pining away because he hasn't met his biggest fan.

I'm trying to come to grips with this.

When Facebook Friends Die

2010-12-14T23:49:00.004-07:00

I know that sounds like I'm being all dramatic and writing a post like, "When Animals Attack," or "When Good Pets Go Bad," and all that, but Facebook brings a whole new element to the grieving process.

Last Sunday, a high school classmate and Facebook friend was killed in a car accident on a bridge/road that I have driven many a time back in Ohio. I could picture exactly where the accident happened.

Sue was someone I knew in high school, but not super well. She was really, really nice. Sweet even. Our younger sisters were in the same grade and were very good friends. She was one of the very first people to friend me on Facebook. I enjoyed reading her status updates about her family--her husband and two kids. One of her last posts was last week and was about how she and her husband were taking the day off to go Christmas shopping and spend the day together. I gathered he worked a late shift type of job and they didn't always get to spend the time together that they wanted to.

So when I received an e-mail from another classmate and mutual Facebook friend that Sue had died, I had one of those jaw dropping moments.

And here's the weird thing. Other than class reunions and until Facebook, I've had no contact with Sue since 1986. But Facebook puts a whole new element to relationships, doesn't it? I'm not sorry. I'm glad I had these last two years to "get to know" Sue all over again through Facebook, to read about and be a part of her life, even if it was from afar.

I do think about the fact that if not for Facebook, when I heard this news, probably long after her passing, I would have been saddened, but not so affected as I have been. No way! I was just reading about her plans the other day, was my immediate reaction. I probably re-read that message 10 times before it started to sink in. No. Way.

And I'm also Facebook friends with Sue's sister. Her post about Sue's death, about wondering how she would learn to live without Sue, nearly broke my heart. Let alone thinking about Sue's kids, who were in the car with her and knew she had died upon impact. Can you imagine? It's impossible not to think about it...

So, I'm sad. I don't like it that I'm sad. But for as much fun as people make of Facebook, I'm so grateful that it brought me into a very special person's world again, even if it was just for a little while.

I've Got Christmas Spirit--Yes, I Do!

2010-12-09T20:44:00.000-07:00

Remember last year, after the holidays, when I said I was going to start celebrating Christmas right after Halloween this year so I wasn't so frazzled and would have more time to enjoy it?

At least I think I said that. If I didn't say it, I thought it.

Anyway, I'm totally on track. For a change.

I wanted to see if I could have a non-frazzled holiday season, and so far, so good. We got out the Christmas decorations the weekend before Thanksgiving, which I have long made fun of Marci for doing. I am now one of THOSE people who decorates for Christmas before Thanksgiving.

Yet another reminder to never say never.

In the end, the early decorating worked out fine, even though it stretched over about five days because we were in the middle of a hockey tournament that weekend.

Eamonn surprised us by hanging outside lights while we were in Utah. And we got our tree last weekend and decorated it on my birthday (which I totally remember doing when I was younger).

I haven't done any baking and I realized I'm a little behind on my gift buying, but I find myself unflapped by it all this year. I. Will. Not. Panic. and ruin my Christmas Spirit.

Yesterday, I was in the post office (that did almost flap me--we have the worst post office in the world here) and I heard two women talking about how frazzled they were already this holiday season. And it really reaffirmed my resolve to Keep It Simple. To focus on what's important to me, which is being at home, slowing down, enjoying this time.

Besides, I just wrote an article for a client about trying to help kids focus on traditions and giving, so that helped.

This morning, Declan was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. He was crabby. In my normal mode I would tell him to snap out of it. Remind him that he chooses to do hockey and that means a few late nights a week and we would be going to bed at 7:00pm tonight if he didn't shape up. Instead, I put on my Nice Mom Hat (I had to dig around for it. Clearly, I hadn't worn it in awhile.) and said I was planning something special for after school. As a result, he went out the door with a smile and an air of anticipation.

I am Super Christmas Mom.

For 3.2 seconds anyway.

So the something special was an afternoon just for us. No friends over, no sports practices, no electronics (me included!). Instead, we had some hot chocolate, a fire in the fireplace, Christmas music playing, and Hannah's Reindeer cookies:

How cute are these?

And then I made them watch two hours of Little House on the Prairie Christmas episodes.

Just kidding.

Maybe.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to finish listening to my English murder mystery on my iPod. And if that thought doesn't get you in the Christmas spirit, I don't know what will.

Looking for Bear Grylls

2010-12-05T20:18:00.009-07:00

We didn't find him, in case you were wondering, which is too bad because he's kind of cute and rugged and all that and I fully expected him to be wondering around in the wild.

But, we did find a pretty darn good Christmas tree out in the wild.

We're pretty sure this is one of the trees we eyeballed last year and determined it wasn't big enough. This year, it passed muster. I'm sure it was thrilled.

Come on, boys! Put your back into it! This is why we had kids. Child labor.

Giving new meaning to the word TIMBER!

There was a lot of snow out there. A Lot. Which was kind of surprising because there was barely any snow at our house. In fact, we tried to drive to where we got our tree last year, to no avail. Too much snow.

We hiked through snow that ranged from barely ground cover to thigh deep. It was a pretty good workout. Especially the part where I watched Eamonn drag the tree about a mile and a half back to the car. It was exhausting to watch.

For some reason, the snow never looks as deep in photos. I swear, it was really deep. Like, I couldn't walk very well deep.

This is where we parked last year. We couldn't even get close to driving in this far this year.

Eamonn, forever our Sherpa, was hauling the tree back to the car, and more than once I saw him suddenly drop several feet into some sort of deep snow situation. That was kind of exciting. He's kind of cute and rugged when he's hauling a tree.

Again, it doesn't translate well to pictures. Half his body vanished, people, I'm telling you.

Enjoying some hot chocolate back at the car.

How Do I Ruin My Children's Lives? Let Me Count the Ways.

2010-12-02T22:36:00.003-07:00

As a mother, I am out to make my children's lives as miserable as possible.

Of course I am. Who isn't? And why wouldn't I? It's such fun.

I'm kidding.

Sort of.

I do try to say yes to my kids when it's feasible. Or even when it isn't sometimes. It's fun to see them be happy about the unexpected opportunity to eat pie for breakfast or watch a movie on a school night.

However, they never seem to remember these unexpected bonuses when I'm ruining their lives in other ways.

Case in point: Last weekend when we were in Utah, the boys and all of Erin's kids set up a restaurant in the playroom. Very cute and creative. Except that they wanted to cook actual food and serve it to us and eat it down there themselves.

There were a few problems with this scenario. First, none of them really know how to cook and they seemed disinclined to have us be present in the kitchen while food was prepared. Second, Erin and her family are only living in this house temporarily--it's actually for sale and has recently been renovated. Renovated as in new carpet, paint, tile, etc. Renovated as in is it really wise for seven kids to be carrying/consuming food on various levels in this house with new paint and carpet?

No, not wise at all.

You would have thought we'd just told the kids we were enslaving them at a work camp in Siberia.

Drama. I felt bad because of all of their hard work making menus and setting up the restaurant, but it just didn't make sense. And it didn't help that the last time we visited and they still lived at the "old" house, the kids did this exact same thing and we did let them make food and bring it downstairs to the "restaurant."

Other ways I have failed my children in the not to distant past: forgetting to wash an item of clothing I said I would wash; saying we would do something and then having to go back on my word; forgetting to give allowances; not sitting down to play cards while I was trying to work; not allowing candy for breakfast.

It goes on.

Ad nauseum.

Sigh.

Curly Girls

2010-11-29T22:57:00.004-07:00

Have I really not posted for a week? There was a bit of a frenzy getting out of town for Thanksgiving. We were supposed to leave at about 2pm on Wednesday to drive to Utah to hang with Erin's clan for the holiday. I had to work on the mountain until 1pm.

But on Monday, there was talk of a snow storm. The same snow storm that had dumped 2 feet of snow on Utah. And it was rolling towards Colorado.

I raced around getting everything ready to go, but braced myself, and the boys for the fact that we just might not get there. In fact, I got everything ready to go except for my underwear, apparently, and waited to see what happened.

We did indeed wake up to a snow storm on Wednesday. I headed out on slippery roads to work. It took longer than usual, of course, and I was late on my first day, which was opening day. Nice.

They didn't fire me.

I got off early and by the time I drove home, the roads were decent. We decided to make a run for the border. Of Utah, that is.

Despite a few slippery roads coming over a pass in the last hour of our drive, we made it with no problem.

The cousins hadn't seen each other in over a year! The kids played, we all ate too much (remind me to make gluten free stuffing next year), I found a new favorite Christmas movie in Christmas in Connecticut (who recommended that to me? Was it one of you?), and then we had to drive home a day early because another snow storm was coming.

Such is life in the mountains.

So why is this post called Curly Girls? This is me with my niece Caroline, age 2.

Finn and I have been joined by another curly top. We totally had curly mojo going.

And then there was some football watching because it was The Game.

Unless you're not from Ohio or Michgan and then you don't really care. And we had to leave part way through to drive home anyway.

I ate a lot of popcorn in the car and listened to a murder mystery while the boys watched movies.

And I tried to avoid the zillion deer that felt they needed to wander into the road at dusk.

We are all still in one piece. Us and the deer.

There is Superstition (Or Why I Wore Dirty Socks All Weekend)

2010-11-22T14:08:00.005-07:00

Athletes, it seems, are a superstitious lot. I sort of knew this becuase I've seen the NHL teams who make it to the Stanley Cup playoffs not shave for the duration. I've seen cyclists cross themselves before the start of a stage in a race. I've also heard about players from various sports who have very specific rituals before they play, including things like putting their shoes/cleats/skates on in a certain order.

I'm mildly superstitious. I'm not too thrilled when a black cat crosses my path (When I was in 5th grade, we were on Spring Break in Washington, D.C. and a black cat ran in front of us as we were walking back to our car after dinner. About 10 minutes later, we had a car accident). I don't walk under ladders (that seems more like common sense than superstition), I don't open umbrellas in the house, and I throw salt over my left shoulder when I spill it. Yes, I actually do that.

Now I'm taking my neuroses to a whole new level and applying it to Declan's hockey.

Declan is in his second year of playing competitive travel hockey. He is the goalie. It is stressful to watch. Last year, his team went 10 - 0 in regular season play and then won the league at playoffs, but they did it the hard way--by losing one of their games to a team they'd beaten about 10 times and having to play an extra game to win the whole shebang. I stood next to one particular mom for the playoffs...except for the one game they lost. And so we decided that it was because we hadn't stood together that the boys lost (apparently ignoring the fact that the team didn't play particularly well) and we'd better not take that chance again. We became like Siamese twins for the duration of playoffs. And they won.

Fast forward to this year. The boys have won all of the regular season games so far and have only lost one at a tournament. Not that there haven't been some close calls. (And there are still four months of the season to go)

Take this weekend for instance. Our hockey club was hosting a tournament. Tournaments usually start on Fridays to get all the games in. The kids usually miss school for it. They are crushed, as you can imagine.

Anyway, Friday morning found us at the rink. As did Friday afternoon. They sort of got by in the morning game, winning 1 - 0. They won handily in the afternoon. I was pleasantly surprised by all of this because we were playing some Denver teams who are normally extremely competitive.

Saturday morning--6 a.m. game. (And I would like to note here that this isn't the earliest the team has ever played) I dragged myself (and a protesting Finn) out of bed (Eamonn and Declan had left at 5 a.m.!) and slogged over to the rink (fortunately it was the rink right near our house) wearing sweats and...the same socks I'd had on the day before. Now, before you go getting all grossed out, I do this often--wearing some aspect of the day before's clothes again. Why? My reasons are many, but chief among them:

-I get tired of doing laundry.
-With boys in sports, a husband in construction, and me exercising 5 - 6 times a week, we generate a lot of laundry.
-The air is dry out here, people. Really, really dry. So things that might normally make you sweaty and smelly might not produce such results out here.
-And I might be a little lazy.

Trust me, I did check the socks before I put them on again. They didn't stink so I was OK with it. Plus, I went in my sweats because it was so early. I intended to go home and beautify myself and wear actual clothes for the afternoon game at the up valley rink.

Over the course of the game (they won easily), I started talking to another mother and I confessed that my living room is the locker room for everyone who plays hockey in our house (which is everyone except me). You recall the blog post from last week, I'm sure. So the other mom laughed and said as soon as the kids got body odor, that would come from a screeching halt. She has two boys who play hockey--one on Declan's team and one who is two years older. And her husband is a coach. Where does their hockey stuff reside? On a rack in the garage. She said it even stinks out there because her older son is so superstitious he won't let her wash his gear (aren't you glad I'm finally getting to the moral of this story?). She has to covertly wash his gear and get it back on the rack or into his bag without him knowing. (She also said the smelliest gear belongs to her daughter who does ballet!)

Declan hasn't developed BO yet. Neither has Finn. And Eamonn doesn't really play enough to make his gear reek, so the garage may still be a ways off. But this whole onversation about the son not wanting his gear washed got me thinking during that 6 a.m. game in the ice rink: I was wearing the same socks I'd worn the day before and they'd won. Hence, I needed to keep wearing these socks or else they'd lose.

I'm nothing if not rational.

When Sunday morning rolled around, we needed to be on the road by 6:45 a.m. to head up valley where the semi-finals and the finals, if the team made it, would be played. I pondered my socks. Was this crazy? Should I wear them again? Was it tempting fate not to? I did a quick sniff test. They were still OK, so I threw them on and away we went.

The boys won the semi-final easily, but very nearly lost in the finals. In the end, they won 1 - 0 in a very, very competitive game in which, frankly, they were outplayed. I think the win had to do with some spectacular goaltending (ahem--we were outshot 20 - 2), one great goal, and my socks.

Congrats, boys! And you're welcome.

My Non-New Year's Resolution for 2011

2010-11-18T22:02:00.004-07:00

Note: Before I start yammering on, the short version of this post is that I started a new blog. But don't worry, this blog isn't going away. Read on...

For the first time in....my lifetime..."losing 20 pounds" will not be on my list of New Year's resolutions.

I think I'll keep "flossing my teeth" on there though, just to be safe.

Anyway, the reason "lose 20 pounds" isn't on my list this year is because I feel like I'm about 5 pounds away from what, for me, is a really good weight. I'm not saying what that weight is because for those "thinnies" out there, they're probably thinking, "THAT is a good weight?" Why yes it is, for this girl.

My weight has been a source of consternation for me since I was in elementary school. No lie. My weight has been up, down and all around for years, from a super low weight in grad school (fueled mostly by a borderline eating disorder and Jenny Craig), to super high when I was pregnant (and then coming close to that several other times).

I read all of the articles, listened to all of the advice, but I couldn't figure it all out. So even though I exercised, I was all over the place with my weight.

And then when Finn got sick, I became very interested in what we eat and how it affects our health. But it really wasn't until more recently that I got my own act together and put all all of the pieces together in a way that worked for me that things really came together.

For about five years, I've used DVDs from a company called BeachBody. You've probably seen their infomercials for programs like P90X, TurboJam, Slim in 6, etc. Hilarious, I know. I've done P90X.

Twice.

And some other programs, too.

Am I ripped? No. Am I super thin? No. Will I ever be super thin? No, because I'm not that body type and I'm OK with that.

But I am pretty fit (like, normal person fit, not go out and run a marathon fit), and I'm pretty happy with where I'm at and where I'm headed.

Really, I owe it to the DVD programs I did in my basement, counting calories, and going online and having a good support group.

So I guess, in a way, my new blog is my way of paying it forward a little bit. I made online friends who helped me figure this all out and I feel like maybe I can do that for someone else now, too. I have some friends who each have a goal to lose upwards of 100 pounds, and this is also an easier way to help them accomplish that versus e-mail, which is how we've been doing it. Selfishly, I'm also doing the new blog for myself because I probably need accountability more than anyone.

Here's the deal: If I can lose weight and get fit, anyone can do it. Anyone. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I am truly one of the laziest people out there. I've figured out what works for me and if I can help someone else figure out what works for them, I'm all about it.

So what's over there on the other blog? Not a whole lot yet. But I'll be writing about my own workouts and what I eat, and also blathering on about stuff I read that's cool, maybe a tip or two here and there, recipes sometimes, and any advice I can offer.

For what that advice might be worth anyway.

Remember, I'm not a doctor. I just play one on the Internet.

Think of this new venture as a fitness blog with Natalie's twisted humor thrown in. Check it out. Read it to be nosy. Read it to amuse yourself. And if you're so inclined, get on the bandwagon with me and get fit.

And have fun, of course.

Get Fit, Have Fun!

My Locker Room. I Mean, My Living Room.

2010-11-15T21:01:00.004-07:00

This is what my living room looks like from September to March, and even beyond depending on how long the hockey season extends. The living room gets a break from being a drying rack during the month of June. Sort of. Then things rachet back up again when hockey camps start during the summer (and run right into tryouts in September).

I have informed the men of the house that all hockey gear must move into the basement during the holiday season.

You can see where that's gotten me so far.

And I'm making good on my threat to decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving this year. It's happening this weekend.

Allegedly.

Four Score and Seven Years Ago...

2010-11-10T15:55:00.003-07:00

So today I went to Finn's CaringBridge page for the first time in...I don't know how long. Actually, I posted there on Finn's birthday in 2009, but I don't think I've been there since. I go there so infrequently now that I always stumble around and try to remember how to log in.

It's weird. How could I forget something that I knew so well? Just like I thought I'd never forget the phone numbers to the clinic that were burned into my memory or the phone number to the pharmacy.

Does time heal all wounds? Or do they just scab over? I'm feeling a little itchy at the moment.

Yesterday I got a phone call from the nurse at Finn's Denver oncology clinic. Another heartrending pediatric cancer diagnosis for a family in a town near ours and would I be willing to talk to the family? Of course!

There were a few things that brought me comfort at the worst times when Finn was sick: one was being able to communicate with so many of you via CaringBridge and hear your messages of support, and the second was the group of "cancer moms" who I became friends with who answered questions and who knew for real what was going on in our house.

It's hard. When I talked to the mom today, I could hear and feel the emotion in her voice. I could feel all of those emotions welling up in me: the fear, the helplessness, the unknown.

There are so few times in our lives that we can say we've walked in that person's shoes. This is one of them. It's an experience I would have preferred not to have had--for my child not to have had---but I will use it and if it can help someone else, I'm OK with that. More than OK.

I have often wondered if Finn's diagnosis was a message to me. And if it was, what am I supposed to do with it? I remember writing long ago that I wished messages wouldn't be sent through my children! Use me. Take me. Let it be be.

But we don't get to decide that.

Which, as a control freak, annoys me to no end.

But I digress.

Listening to this family's story, there is worry and fear, of course, but there are also parts that make me smile remembering our own situation--the family and friends who are rallying around them, bringing them food (I warned them to steer clear of the desserts lest they suffer my fate and gain 20 lbs. on the donated food!), running races, shaving heads, sending notes and cards, the prayers, the love, the positive energy.

So I guess as much as I'm thinking of this new family and Finn's journey today, I'm also thinking of all of you and how you made it all bearable for us.

I hope I can help someone like you did.

Please Deposit Your Hide Here

2010-11-09T18:56:00.004-07:00

I have to say, I did a double take when I passed this on the side of the road yesterday. In fact, I drove past it twice before pulling over to take the picture.

I remain a little mystified.

Why would you be driving around with a hide? If you were driving around with a hide, why would you decide to put it in this barrel? If there are hides in the barrel (darn, I realized I didn't get out and look in the barrel), how are they keeping all sorts of vermin from ransacking the barrel?

There were two magpies sitting on the rim the first time I drove by.

Wouldn't the barrel reek?

Still mystified. This is a new one for me.

Guess I'd Better Dig Out My Parka

2010-11-08T13:58:00.004-07:00

I Fed My Kids Polysorbate 80 for Breakfast

2010-11-07T14:40:00.004-07:00

Just in case you think I'm a 100 percent clean eating saint, rest assured, I am not. For Finn's birthday a few weeks ago, I bought Pillsbury's Grands Cinnabon rolls. Because apparently I'm too lazy to get up on a school morning (or any morning for that matter) and make cinnamon rolls from scratch. Yes, I am a mostly scratch cook, but I've never made cinnamon rolls for reals. Maybe one day I'll do that.

Maybe. It looks hard and I'm not about hard.

Anyway, I bought the JUMBO pack at Costco and they've been taking up valuable space in my fridge, space that should probably be used for things like kale and swiss chard, and I needed to do some cleaning out. Hence, the Grands this morning.

Feeling very domestic, I pulled the tube out of the fridge, peeled off the label, opened the tube open by pressing the spoon at the seam as instructed (this part always scares me--I can't stand the big POP, but then again, I used to get scared during Fantasy Island and cover my eyes while my cousin Laura laughed at me), and lovingly placed the pre-rolled rolls in the pan.

I put them in the oven.

Then, as I often do, I stood there and read the ingredients while the rolls baked. Sometimes I remember to read the ingredients before I buy things. Often, I forget and read them after the fact (remember the Corn Flakes...) and have buyer's remorse (but truly, what was I expecting from a package of pre-made cinnamon rolls?). Anyway, I was taken aback at the ingredient list. Not only artificial flavors and preservatives, but also artificial colors. Why would you artificially color a baked good that...doesn't have any color?

I remain mystified.

I did not eat one. I let my husband and children fill themselves with fake food. As I reflect upon my actions, I realize this is probably why Declan is behaving like a pill this afternoon. Fake food does that to him.

I did make them all a huge juice smoothie drink to have with it.

I'm going to pretend it counteracted all of the ingredients in the rolls.

Because I'm totally sure it really works that way. And I've still got one tube to go and I need to rationalize eating it instead of throwing it away.

Obnoxious Hockey Mom Reporting for Duty

2010-11-04T13:25:00.004-06:00

Over the weekend, we went to a hockey tournament in Aspen. As far as places to go for a hockey tournament, Aspen is not a bad place to be.

Especially if you win.

Which the boys did.

As you can see by the photo which shows that I am shamelessly bragging about my child. And this is where I oh so casually mention that along the way to winning this tournament, my son had a shutout, not once, but twice, against the team that was the state champion last year. Casual. I'm casual about it.

I will confess that when we scored against the team that was the state champion last year I:

1. Cheered so hard I fell off the back of my bleacher seat (I just dropped a few inches onto the concrete floor behind me, but I bet it was hilarious looking and caused the opposing fans to think, "She totally deserved that.").
2. Jumped up and down and screamed and nearly tore the sleeve off of the coat of the person sitting next to me. Multiple times.
3. Felt smug that our little mountain team beat the "big city kids."

Yes, I was an over-celebrator. If there were penalties for fans over-celebrating, I would have been fined. Or put in the penalty box, or however those types of crimes are punished.

In my defense, I don't yell derogatory things about the other team. That would be horrible. And plus, I don't know what I'm talking about to even yell anything derogatory. I'm more of a, "Yeah, Declan! Go VEHA! Come on boys! Skate, skate, skate!" type of person. I don't cheer when another team gets a penalty. Some other teams do this and I see how devastating it is on the kids. Come on, they're like 10 or 11. Or some are even younger, so do we really need to ridicule them?

Anyway,I'm going to try and dial my celebrating back for this weekend.

I'll let you know how that works out for me.

Q&A With Finn

2010-11-02T20:19:00.003-06:00

Real questions Finn has asked me lately and my attempts to answer them (or not):

Q. Who was the first ever dog?
A. I have no idea.

Q. If there were only two shows to watch on TV, Chowder and the Mighty B, which one would you choose?
A. I'd throw a rock through the TV screen.

Q. Who invented bacon?
A. Francis Bacon.

Q. Why do we have to go to school?
A. Because I need a break during the day.

Q. Why do we have to do homework?
A. To keep you quiet after school and to make me realize I need a calculator to do second grade math.

Q. Why are your fingernails white on the end?
A. That's how they grow.

Q. Why don't I have white on the ends of my fingernails?
A. Because I cut them off to remove the dirt.

Q. Can I eat candy for breakfast.
A. Sure. Why not?

Q. Why can't I have a pet in my room?
A. Because it would get lost amongst all of the Legos.

Q. Can I be a Pokemon Legendary for Halloween next year?
A. I don't know what that is, but I'll get started on it right away.

Is Nothing Sacred?

2010-10-26T09:49:00.005-06:00

This is how I felt when I discovered that Kellogg's Corn Flakes contained High Fructose Corn Syrup (after I had purchased a giant, value-sized box):

And Now You Are Eight

2010-10-22T20:22:00.016-06:00

Dear Finn,
Today at 10:58am EST, you turned eight years old. It's hard to believe! I bet I'll still be writing that when you're 16...

When Declan turned eight, he seemed so grown up. To me, you are still so young--probably the difference between the first born and the "baby." Although you'd slug me if you heard me call you that.

Unlike your brother, who burst into the world upside down and two weeks early, you were perfectly content to hang out until week 40 when the doctor finally had to bring you out forcibly! It was a sign that you were going to be an amiable kid and a great sleeper. I rarely got to rock you to sleep--you conked out so quickly, no rocking was necessary. When you could walk, when you were tired and ready to sleep, you went right to your crib and stood there until we put you in.

Your Birth Day: Your big brother was so curious about you!

Your hair wasn't curly right away. It was very lightly red and the curls started showing up when you were about 8 months old.

You could spit up like nobody's business.

As you got older, you got curlier. People came up to me in the grocery store and touched your hair. When you were old enough to realize what was happening, you were a little freaked out.

As I looked back through my files for pictures for this post, there were so many that just made me smile or even laugh out loud. You were so YOU from the very beginning. As I look at pictures of you over the years, I still see so much of the same you.

Some of my favorites:

You smiled ALL the time. We called it the Finn Grin. This was your first haircut.

Some of them crack me up just because YOU'RE cracking up. Like you're years older and laughing at some inside joke that only you know about.

And then other times, you're just adorable. Can I still call you adorable?

This picture is so totally you. Still.

I love your gusto.

It seems like you've barely changed. But of course you have. As of this birthday, you have lived more than half of your life in Colorado. It's hard for me to imagine that you don't really remember Ohio and your first three years and 10 months there.

And today you are eight. Eight is great.

You are funny, smart, impatient, energetic, curious, sometimes a stinker, sometimes a little teaser and instigator, imaginative, loving (but I dare not try and give you a smooch!), and you can make me go from ready to strangle you to wanting to hug you in a single bound.

You are The Mighty Finn--a superhero in your right.

You are eight. And it is so lovely.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

2010-10-19T20:14:00.002-06:00

Because it's October and I figured I'd better finally write about it.

There were so many pictures to upload--that's why it's taken me so long. Whatever Kodak Gallery has done to its site, I don't like it. Stuff takes forever and putting picture titles on there is totally cumbersome. The problem is that I don't want to switch to a new service because I have so many things archived on their site. So wah wah wah. I'm dealing with it already.

The boys and I were on the road for three weeks and a day in July/August. That was a long time. But it was a great trip. We saw a lot of people, took a lot of pictures, as you'll see, and we were ready to come home at the end. That's the best kind of trip in my book.

I'll link you out to the pictures at the end, but here's a rundown of what we did.

Ohio
We were flying out of Denver so we took the opportunity to drive down the day before our flight and go to the Denver Museum of Natural History and Science. That might not be the actual name, but close enough. It was the second time the boys and I had been there and the first time for Eamonn, so it was fun for them to see it with him. Many of the exhibits are permanent, but they have some good rotating ones. In fact, it always cracks me up when I think about something a friend said once, "There's a good exhibit on natural disasters this month." It just struck me as funny.

We also squeezed in a clinic visit the day we left.

And then we were on our way. The boys love the whole airport/flying/travel process. Me? Not so much. But I do it to get from here to there.

Ohio was hot this year. Ridiculously hot. Last year, the weather was so nice, we often turned off the air conditioning. This year--no way. In fact, the boys frequently walked around saying things like, "Why is the air so heavy? The air makes me sleepy." I felt much the same.

We did have some rain, which was nice. I miss rainstorms here. So we went to see a movie. Something about Cats and Dogs who were spies. I fell asleep.

We saw tons of family and friends, including spending the night at my Grandpa's. They don't have air conditioning. And as much as I wanted to bark at the kids to get outside and play while we were there, I didn't badger them too much because after 8am, it was mostly miserable to be outside. We did help Grandpa fix an electric fence that was down--and I will mention briefly here thay my sweet Grandpa put my hand on a fence THAT WAS STILL LIVE--but I won't hold it against him. For much longer. He also took the boys on a tractor ride which is really their favorite thing. Right after eating homemade ice cream.

We went to the Ohio State Fair again. I think I talked briefly about that when I did a few posts at Mom's. I was hungover. It was a difficult day.

Eamonn arrived. We went to a water park. That was very fun. I sunburned my chest. That wasn't fun.

Virginia
Our trip to Virginia was in two parts: Norfolk for Eamonn's cousin's wedding and Williamsburg for family vacation time.

I really liked Norfolk. It, of course, sits right on the water, which I dig. I like being able to see the ocean or other large bodies of water. The focus was the wedding, which was beautiful and please note I didn't take any pictures for some reason (mostly because the purse I took was too small to hold the camera). We had a great time with Eamonn's cousins, some of whom we hadn't seen in awhile. We did have some time on Saturday morning to visit the USS Wisconsin and the attached museum, which the boys loved.

I went and got a pedicure. Which I loved.

And then we went on to Williamsburg.

Which I totally loved.

I did wonder if Finn would be too young to appreciate it. He wasn't. Both boys had a great time, as did we. There is so much to see there. We did the different locations in chronological order, based on when they were settled/took place:

1. Jamestown--Sunday
2. Williamsburg--Monday, Tuesday (and then I went back and did a walk through Wednesday evening)
3. Yorktown--Wednesday

I read about doing it that way in a book or on a website or something. I don't know if it made any difference to the boys--I think maybe they looked at the whole thing as just a bunch of people dressed in costumes in three different locations.

Whatever. It was fun.

So if you're wondering about taking your kids to Williamsburg--do it. However, don't go in August. In fact, I recommend October through December. The last time I went, it was October 1990 and my friend Karen and I went. We had a great time, but even in October, it was pretty humid. Of course, a hurricane had just rolled through. I laugh looking back at the pictures, some of which are pratically duplicated for our 2010 trip.

The saving grace of our trip was the $10 souvenir mug which you could use for unlimited refills of various and sundry drinks. My kids drank more high fructose corn syrup laden lemonade in the two days we walked around Williamsburg than they have in their entire life.

It was hot, people. Oppressively hot. At one point, after lunch on the second day in Williamsburg, it was so hot I wanted to lie down and scream. But I figured that might be bad for morale, so I didn't. You'll see how sweaty we look when you see the pictures.

A huge, huge highlight of going to Williamsburg was getting to meet blog friends, Beth and Hannah. Beth had been providing me with Williamsburg advice prior to our trip. Her son attends William and Mary and they live about 90 miles away, so they've been to Williamsburg a time or ten. In fact, I believe Beth told me Hannah was "over" Williamsburg, which made me laugh. After four days in the heat in the area, I was over it, too! So Beth and Hannah graciously drove 90 miles to meet us! It was very exciting and we had a great time visiting.

And I'll tell you something else--after weeks of "quality family time"--the boys were so excited to have someone else to talk to. They enjoyed showing off their swimming and diving skills for Hannah. I think they were so relieved to have an audience who appreciated them and wasn't lecturing saying things like, "don't splash me, you're being too loud! Don't run around the pool!" etc. Ah, parenthood.

Anyway, our whole sweaty summer vacation is available for viewing HERE. Kick back, relax and enjoy with an ice cold glass of high fructose corn syrup.

Or hot chocolate now that it's October.

We Interrupt this Dinner for a Few Questions

2010-10-15T17:54:00.004-06:00

So last night the phone rang at exactly 6pm. Exactly 6pm. I was right in the middle of fixing dinner. Who calls at exactly 6pm?

It was someone doing a poll about the elections. Ugh.

I'm embarrassed to say that I have no clue who I will be voting for and was mortified to think that I was going to have to answer questions about the candidates.

One time, a reporter was trying to interview me for an article about local candidates. I had to decline the interview because I was so clueless.

Anyway, back to the 6pm phone call.

I always try to take part in those phone surveys because my minor in graduate school was consumer behavior and that's how you get your information--surveying people. So I try to take one for the team and answer questions when I can.

I asked how long the survey would take, given that I was in the middle of making dinner and was using a knife. There are many well-documented circumstances of me trying to talk and cook at the same time and it never ends well.

The survey woman said it would take 5 minutes.

OK, I could spare 5 minutes.

We started the questions.

Immediately, I was annoyed. The survey woman had such a heavy African accent that I literally couldn't even understand the candidates' names. Now, I know I said I was clueless about who I was going to vote for, but I at least know their names and I was completely unable to understand who she was talking about.

The survey dragged on.

I gave some flippant answers, including one that asked me to give my opinion about the ethics of the various candidates.

"They're all crooks."

She also wanted to know who I was voting for. Even though I didn't know, I wouldn't have told her if I did. Isn't this why we have secret balloting?

She kept asking. I kept replying, "I'm not going to tell you that."

I'm sure it was annoying.

Ten minutes later, I asked how many questions were left because it didn't feel like we were reaching closure.

She told me in an impatient voice, "Just a few more."

Truthfully, I wanted to hang up at this point. We were long past the 5 minutes, and I was having to concentrate so hard to try and figure out what she was saying that I'd had to abandon my efforts to make dinner.

Really. Annoying.

Finally the call ended, 15 minutes after it started. And I have to say, I was totally bugged, not only that I spent all of that time on the phone and dinner was delayed, but that a survey company would give a phone job to someone with such difficulty in pronouncing key elements of the survey--like the candidates names. Doesn't that seem like it should be a very basic thing?

It's got me all riled up. This is me. Riled.

Things I've Noticed About Disney Movies

2010-10-12T21:27:00.005-06:00

I'm sitting here working (well, clearly, I've stopped working and am now blogging) and watching "Summer Magic" with Hayley Mills. I'm not digging it, but I feel compelled to watch it because, well, it's Hayley Mills. I'm not even 100% sure of what the plot is because I am only sporadically paying attention, but I'm paying close enough attention to notice the following:

Disney apparently employed only 10 different actors in the '60s and '70s. There is of course, Hayley Mills, who was in Parent Trap--possibly one of my favorite movies of all times, The Moon-Spinners, Pollyanna, That Darn Cat, In Search of the Castaways. Heck, I didn't even know about that last one. And how about Johnnie Whitaker. Wasn't he in a bunch of Disney stuff? The kids from Mary Poppins showed up in like three other movies together. And now there's this woman in Summer Magic who was also in Parent Trap. She played the maid in Parent Trap. She's Burl Ives' wife in this movie.

Speaking of Burl Ives, he's also in this movie. He just collapsed on the floor. I don't think I've ever seen him in anything other than Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Although I guess I really only heard him in that.

Anyway, that's Thing One about Disney movies--the same 10 people over and over.

Thing Two is: why does everyone sound like they have an English accent in the movies from the '60s and '70s? Of course, Hayley Mills is actually English, but they all sound that way. And yet, they're not.

Thing Three: The pre-recorded dog barking is exactly the same in this movie as it is in the Shaggy Dog, 101 Dalmations, and I swear, even Lassie. They're not even the same breed, or even alive--101 Dalmations was animated, you can't fool me!!--and they have the same bark.

Thing Four: Same soundtrack. OK, probably not really, but it all has that same tone.

Thing Five: This isn't about this movie, but it's more from all of the Disney cartoon movies like Bambi--the mother always dies. What the heck? I think Disney must have a thing about mothers. Brother Bear, Finding Nemo, and others I can't think of right now. Or the mother dies and we never see her at all: Snow White, Cinderella, Aladdin, Little Mermaid, etc. etc. etc. Are orphans big sellers?

Ok, then.

I have no idea why I wrote this post. I think it all started when I heard the barking dog...

Because Who Doesn't Want to Ride in an Ambulance?

2010-10-11T22:39:00.003-06:00

I'm trying to remember if I had ever ridden in an ambulance before yesterday afternoon. I'll have to ask my Dad if we rode in one when we were in a car accident when we went to Washington, D.C. when I was in fifth grade. I can't remember.

With the state of health care in this country right now, I've always been grateful that we haven't had to require the use of an ambulance. Because if you think they're taking you on that little ride for free, you are sorely mistaken.

So now we're about to find out exactly what a 30 mile ambulance ride costs. Not that it wasn't worth it and that I don't completely and totally appreciate the firefighters and EMTs that came to our rescue yesterday.

Most of you have read on Facebook that Finn had a mountain bike accident yesterday.

It was gross, people. Really gross.

Eamonn and the boys went out for a ride before dinner. I was working. A frozen pizza was in the oven. I love frozen pizza nights. It's like vacation.

Eamonn called me at about 6pm to say they were on their way home. I took the pizza out of the oven, did a little more work. Minutes later, the phone rang again.

It was Eamonn again, telling me Finn had just had an accident on his bike and that someone was calling 911. He told me where they were and to get there right away. I could hear Finn crying and saying, "I'm dying! I'm dying!" in the background. Not stressful for a mother or anything.

I grabbed my coat, purse and Finn's coat and ran out the door. I drove through the neighborhood at about 60 miles an hour, tires squealing and everything. Sorry, neighbors.

I was to them in probably less than two minutes after getting the call. Hey, it's a small town.

I parked the car at the side of the road and ran down the bike path to them. And here is a bit of advice. If you are going to be running in a crazed frenzy, don't wear slip on shoes. Just an FYI.

A group of people had gathered--some were walking along the path and came across the accident, some had come out of the nearest house, which happens to belong to a guy Eamonn used to work with and he had friends over for dinner that Eamonn also knew. They had brought out blankets and wrapped Finn up.

Eamonn quickly and quietly explained that the brake lever was impaled in Finn's right thigh. I asked if he thought the femoral artery was hit and he shook his head and reminded me that basically, Finn would have been bleeding out there and then. Frankly, there was very little blood at all. The darn brake was just lodged in there. Fortunately, Eamonn had the foresight not to pull them out. I stress a little thinking about what I would have done.

By the way, did you know that when you call 911, everyone comes to the party? Police, fire, ambulance. It was all very dramatic. Cute firefighters running down the bike path towards you. That's a sight to behold.

But I digress.

Brake cables were cut, handle bars taken off the bike, and Finn and I rode in the ambulance to the nearest hospital with the handlebars still firmly attached to his leg.

The friends took the bikes into their house, Declan and Eamonn drove home and gathered some overnight items just in case, including some of Finn's favorite things: like baboo--his lovey that he still sleeps with, Big Boss--his pillow pet, Sharkey--favorite stuffed animal, and Pokemon cards. Because you can't spend the night in the hospital without Pokemon cards, right? What if a nurse wants to trade with you or something? It would be a shame to be unprepared.

Eamonn dropped Declan at Tara's and met us in the ER. Declan gets very, very stressed when someone happens to Finn. I can only assume that it's a result of worrying about the leukemia and we just don't see it flare up very often. So really, it was best for him not to be at the ER.

We had no idea what to expect. Do you have to surgically remove handlebars? It turns out, not in this instance. They slid out pretty easily (a relative term used by someone who did not have handlebars in her thigh). Stitches and a drain were put in and I have to say, even though they numbed the wound, it clearly didn't work to well, although when the doctor took this huge cotton swab and was probing around under the skin, even I almost lost it. I can't imagine how much that must have hurt. In fact, Finn repeatedly said, "Please knock me out!"

In the end, we left after a few hours. Declan decided to spend the night at Tara's. Finn wanted chicken nuggets--I know, I know--so we drove through Wendy's and let him eat deep fried chicken parts to his heart's content.

He was in bed by about 10:30pm; I had drugged him with some Ibuprofen. He slept soundly. We did not. I could not stop envisioning the accident happening (even though I wasn't there) and then what his leg looked like.

I'm telling you, it's gross.

At 6am, we all had a pleasant awakening to our smoke dectectors malfunctioning.

Sweet. What are the odds.

But then again, what are the odds that this accident would happen 366 days after the scalping at the park last year?

Next year, we're not leaving the house on this weekend.

Today we visited the orthopedic surgeon and all is well. The wound, and this is pretty gross, can't be stitched completely shut. So part is sewn shut, part is gaping open. I'm sorry--I shouldn't have used the word gaping. It just has to heal.

I wanted to take a picture, but Finn wouldn't let me. He hasn't seen it yet.

It's probably best that way.

I took a two hour nap today while my children watched inappropriate videos on You Tube. I've decided I don't really care.

The Flaming Shrew

2010-10-05T20:58:00.007-06:00

Is anyone else's PMS getting worse with age? Just wondering. Because this afternoon I literally thought the top of my head was going to fly off for no apparent reason. Well, of course there was a reson--I'm not THAT irrational. Or so I think.

But then again, "Everybody thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor but they couldn't possibly all have good taste." Name that movie.

My point here is that I don't seem irrational to myself, but I could be wrong.

Anyway, there was a reason for my irrationality, but I can no longer remember what it is. Was.

So if my PMS is getting worse with age, at least I can't remember it in any great detail. Silver linings.

On a completely different subject, here are a few pictures of a fall hike I took with friends last Friday. It looks mysteriously like the fall hike I took a few weeks ago, even though it's a completely different part of the valley. Crazy.

The view from the bottom of the trail. We were at a state park near our house.

Views on the way up.

Probably because I didn't grow up around Aspen trees, I'm so enthralled by them. Those long, long trunks and yellow leaves against the bright blue sky. I still miss the reds of the maple trees though...

Twila and Gillian following me and Vicky back down the trail.

View of the lake on the way back down.

Ahhh, I feel serene just looking at these pictures...until I realize how freaking long it takes to upload them and how cumbersome the process is. So Blogger, you're on notice: You upload function sucks.

We now interrupt this crazed post and return you to your regularly scheduled evening.....

I Heart My DVR

2010-09-30T21:35:00.006-06:00

Last winter, we got a DVR. I thought I blogged about it, but I can't find the post. Maybe I only Facebooked about it. Maybe I just imagined that I did anything about it.

That wouldn't be uncommon.

It was a Revolutionary Event in our house when we got the DVR because Eamonn said we were never going to hav one. Never. And truth be told, the fact that we got one at all was an accident.

There's a very long and comical (in retrospect) story about how the DVR came to be in our house. It started with the "need" to switch from DirecTV to Dish Network because DirecTV had dropped the Versus Channel and YOU CANNOT GO THROUGH LIFE WITHOUT THE VERSUS CHANNEL BECAUSE WE WON'T BE ABLE TO GET THE TOUR DE FRANCE ON TV, DON'T YOU KNOW???

Clearly, something had to be done.

So we switched. I handled the switch. It involved much research into the pricing and plans and options and all of that rigamarole because I am nothing if not thorough after being married to Eamonn for...let me count on my fingers...16...wait, let me double check that...sorry, I'm off...nearly 15 years. Is that right? We got married in Dec. '96. You do the math and let me know. I'll need to know by Dec. 21 by the way so I can get up and say, "Happy XXth anniversary, honey!" Don't leave me hangin'.

Where was I.

Right, DirecTV. Who could have cared less when I called to say I was going to leave if they didn't get Versus back. But then when I called to actually switch, they freaked out. They said we were among their oldest and most valuable customers. Twelve years! Twelve years we'd invested with DirecTV! And I admit, it was hard to go. I knew all of the channels, they never had outages. It was a known entity.

But, no Versus, no DirecTV. Despite their continually upping the ante and getting to six months of free service, we still walked.

I laugh when I think back to the questions I asked the customer service people at Dish.

Me: "So you're saying I can watch something on one TV and the other TV can record something else, all from the same receiver?"

CSR: "Yes, m'am."

Me: "I don't need a second receiver."

CSR: "No, m'am."

Me: "So one receiver can let two different TVs watch two different shows. And if I change the channel downstairs, it won't change the channel upstairs?" I could not wrap my head around this miracle of science.

CSR: Sighing heavily and I'm sure rolling her eyes. "Yes, m'am, that's what I'm saying."

I won't go into how I found out you could PAUSE LIVE TV. Or rewind it. Or how I didn't even discover that at my own house, that I was at a friend's house and saw them do it and stared at them with big saucer-like eyes and said, "How did you do that?" And they pointed out they had the same TV system we did and how could I not know this??!

But back to how the DVR came to be: A Dish guy with a heavy Russian accent came to install the new stuff.

Totally screwed it up.

And despite his assurances that our VCRs would work, they wouldn't.

Calls customer service got us comments like, "We don't work with outmoded technology." I spent several mornings crying in my granola over the loss of my friends at DirecTV. They never talked to me that way.

Another day. Another Dish tech. No dice on the VCR. Eamonn did manage to rig up some sort of crazy system to get one of the VCRs working, but it was frying my brain to try and use it.

In exasperation, I told Eamonn we were getting the freaking DVR. I couldn't take the pressure any longer.

So we got it. And it was like a movie where the sun bursts through the clouds, angels and harps sing.

It was beautiful, man.

And when we got the DVR, I giggled about the fact that the DVR could hold 150 hours of recordings on it.

Who in the world would load their DVR up with 150 hours of crap?

That would be us.

Eamonn and I each have it set up to record certain shows we like. His are mostly sports (soccer, cycling and Formula One racing).

I, on the other hand, have a bunch of old Disney movies that the Hallmark Channel ran last spring (all of those Kurt Russell ones--the Computer Wore Tennis Shoes, etc.; Summer Magic with Hayley Mills; That Darn Cat with Hayley Mills; Pollyanna with Hayley Mills. I love Hayley Mills. In fact, ever since I first saw the Parent Trap, I wanted to be Hayley Mills so I could have a twin sister. I was pretty devastated to find out she didn't have a twin--that it was her playing opposite HER.). I have random episodes of Magnum P.I. on there; America: The Story of Us; the entire series of The Pacific; an odd episode of Biography and Oprah here and there. The entire season of Masterpiece. And I confess there are a few reality shows I love: Amazing Race, Top Chef, Biggest Loser. And I love Life Unexpected. And Desperate Housewives and Brothers and Sisters now that I think about it. I forgot about the Good Wife, too.

I love a lot of stuff. Egad. I need to get a life.

The boys quickly learned how to record stuff, too. So look closely and you'll see the Pokemon Movie 3, odds and ends of shows they were watching and I made them go to bed in the middle of. iCarly. I admit I love iCarly.

It was all adding up.

And then last weekend, Eamonn went out of town and was unaware that one of his favorite shows, Top Gear, had a four day marathon, or something mad like that, scheduled. And it was set to tape "All" instead of just "New" episodes.

On Friday, I noticed the DVR was recording. A lot. Like constantly. Saturday came. Still recording. What the heck? I went into the menu and we had eight, EIGHT!, hours of free space left and we were only two days into the Top Gear marathon.

I freaked out. What would happen? Would all of our recordings just vanish? The thought of no Amazing Race of Biggest Loser nearly sent me over the edge and so I spent a few frantic minutes figuring out how to avert disaster.

Now we have 29 out of 150 hours free on the DVR. Now there's something to be proud of.

Dude, Where's My Car?

2010-09-28T18:50:00.005-06:00

We live about 100 yards from the boys' school. I love it that we never have to drive to school in the Morning Drop Off Melee. Instead, we walk over about 5 minutes before school starts. However, Finn, in particular, always asks to drive.

Yes, once again my hardy mountain children show their true colors.

Anyway, yesterday I did actually drive over to the school in the late morning. On Sunday, we had the biggest fundraiser of the year, Wild West Day, out at a local ranch. I had to return a tent and some other stuff to the office. The tent was a little too heavy to lug even 100 yards. Or maybe I'm just wimpy.

So I drove over, parked, dragged the tent and other stuff inside, and went to the lunchroom where I was having lunch with Finn (have I raved about how this year our school has 100% scratch-cooked lunches?) and then helping supervise kids composting their trash. And, as always happens, a teacher grabbed me and asked me to do something else and yadda yadda yadda, two hours later I was finally heading home.

I did some work, some laundry--the usual.

When it was time for school to be out, I walked to meet the boys. Homework was completed, snacks were eaten, and then it was time to go to Finn's gymnastics in the next town.

The boys went out to the garage ahead of me.

Boys: The car isn't in the garage.

Me: Oh hahaha, you guys, come on, get in, we don't want to be late.

Boys: Seriously, the car isn't in the garage.

Me: Look again. Maybe you just can't see it if the light didn't come on. It is black, afterall. (Yes, I really said that)

And then I paused. Did I park out front? No.

And then reality set in. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY! SOMEONE HAS STOLEN THE CAR!

And then I paused again. Why would someone steal a 1999 VW Passat Wagon with nearly 190,000 miles on it, rear speakers that don't work, electric locks that don't work, a paint job that has now suffered through four mountain winters and is covered with at least an inch of dust from being at a dude ranch the day before...and leave approximately $10,000 worth of bikes? (Yes, the bikes in our garage are collectively worth more than both of our vehicles combined)

It made no sense.

I was puzzled. What a stupid car thief.

And then I came to my senses and walked over to school for the third time that day.

PS: The saddest part about this story is that when I left school after lunch, I walked RIGHT PAST my dear, dusty car. Right past it. No clue. No clue at all.

First Dusting of Snow

2010-09-23T22:40:00.009-06:00

Hey, how about me and all of my Colorado scenery pictures lately? Sick of it yet?

Anyway, I wait for this day anxiously every fall--the day that snow is back on New York Mountain which I can see from the street that runs right through the middle of our neighborhood.

Last night, it got pretty cold at our elevation--6,600 feet. And it was raining (have I ever mentioned how much I miss a good, solid rain here in the high desert?). I suspected, and I was right, that the nearby peaks might be getting their first dusting of snow. It's always right around this week every year so far.

The clouds were still heavy when we woke up this morning, so I couldn't tell until they lifted early this afternoon, but then I could definitely see: SNOW!

I have always loved fall: leaves, visiting the pumpkin farm, I even liked Ohio's damp, cold fall weather. It's a little different out here--fall comes fast. The past two summers when we've returned home from Ohio, it's still summer here, but the heat is gone from the air. It's still warm, but not hot, if that makes sense. Nights cool down, leaves are starting to turn by the last week of August. The Aspens are lovely and yellow, but I still miss the reds and oranges of Ohio. We have one street in our neighborhood with maples that are turning red. I'm watching carefully so that when they get a little further along, I'll walk up and down that street all day and take a few pictures.

If you click to enlarge the picture above, you can see patches of yellow on the elevations below the snow capped peaks. Very pretty. I would have been even prettier with the sun out, but we had an unusual lack of sunshine today--very rare out here, trust me (a Midwestern girl at heart, I pine for some really cloudy days. Even Declan comments, "I wish it would rain.").

Here's a picture of the first snow dusting last year, which happened on the night of September 19, 2009 (versus the night of September 22, 2010, this year). Aren't I such a riveting scientist with all of this analysis.

I had thought it was a much sunnier day after that first snow last year, but clearly, it really wasn't. Thank goodness for photographic evidence.

I know some people lament the end of summer and coming of fall, but I look forward to each season here. Each one brings something new and very different so I'm ready for each one when it comes.

However, this little sprinkling of snow makes me want to dash right past fall and and run without passing go to have my skis tuned. But wait, that would mean I'd miss the Halloween candy. I'll dash right after Halloween.

An Afternoon in the Aspens

2010-09-21T10:57:00.007-06:00

The leaves are nearly at their peak on Vail Mountain. On Sunday, we went on a hike with friends. This is what it looked like...

I miss Ohio's red leaves, but it's very beautiful here in the fall...warm sunny days, cold nights. I've grown used to this.

More Camping Yakkity Yak

2010-09-15T22:16:00.007-06:00

I love saying yakkity yak.

So I did a jokey post about our camping trip and you can see all of the pictures linked from Tuesday's post, but I wanted to come back and tell give you a few more details, lest you think I don't actually like tent camping. All of that stuff in the first post was definitely true. Of course! We're the Rooneys, people! Whacky stuff just happens to us.

But the camping trip was truly a lot of fun. OK, maybe not the asthma attack, but even the cold temperatures didn't ruin it. I did worry that we'd freeze to death.

That didn't happen though.

And as Ma would say, "All's well that ends well."

Rocky Mountain National Park is a place I'd recommend to anyone who's considering a trip west. You don't have to camp. Does that make it more appealing? As you can see by the pictures, it's incredibly beautiful.

RMNP is about two hours from home. We headed out last Friday right after school. The car was completely stuffed. I was afraid a door was going to burst open and various and sundry things--that might or might not include my underwear--would go flying down the road.

That didn't happen though.

As we were driving, Finn started the "I'm about to get sick" cough. Awesome. The asthma attack he had in the night was minor, but it did scare me, being out there in the middle of nowhere and all. In fact, I was all for hanging out the next day and then driving home to sleep, but I was overruled by everyone and we stayed. I'm glad we did.

As you could see, we had a campstove, but we also wanted to light a fire (to ward off frostbite and scary forest beasts). The park ranger I had talked to a few days prior (come to think of it, I feel he was negligent in not telling me to ignore the Weather.com forecast--I might have to sue) said to bring firewood in case there wasn't any on site. So we had a stove, tons of firewods, waterproof matches, firestarters, AND those butane lighter-y things. I felt surely we would have no problem lighting a fire.

But we did. It was one of those embarassing situations where your campsite is engulfed in smoke demonstrating that you are not having campfire success.

And then the stove malfunctioned. It gave us fits all weekend.

I was getting concerned we'd have to eat one of the kids, but Eamonn proved himself to be master of the fire and got it going. In fact, we cooked over the fire that night because the stove never did get its act together. Eamonn had to completely dismantle it and re-McGyver it back together to get it working.

We stayed on the west side of the park--there are two entrances. There was a big festival in Estes Park, on the east side, and we wanted to steer clear of that. As someone pointed out, there are a lot of dead trees in my pictures. The pine bark beetle has literally decimated the lodgepole pine population in Grand County, where the park is located. It's very sad.

We stayed at the Timber Creek campground and were pleased to find the water was still on there (toilets and a camp sink--no showers). People visiting as of yesterday had to starting using the vault toilets. Not a fan of those.

On Saturday, we drove along the main drag--Fall River Road, I think--took some scenic detours and did some small hikes. Finn was struggling on one of the hikes up to about 12,000 feet, so he and I went back to the car and took a couple of hits of albuterol.

Our second night felt warmer. I had driven into Granby, about 30 miles away, to get some medicine to see if we could unstuff Finn's nose. He definitely had a better night so it was worth it, but as I was heading to Granby, I got a text from Eamonn saying, "You don't have the National Parks Pass!" Declan was actually the one who commented after I left, "How will Mommy get back in without the pass?" Frankly, I probably would have breezed right out of the park and never thought of it until they made me stop upon my return. The ranger at our campground called ahead and cleared the way for me, so it was all good. When I came back through the entrance gate, "I called out, 'I'm the crazy mom who went to buy medicine and forgot the pass!' 'Yeah, yeah, we've heard of you, you're fine!'" they called. It's nice to be noticed.

I saw a moose on the way back to the campsite. I picked up Eamonn and the boys and we went back and stalked it. And watched some woman walk out into the clearing to get a better view. Very dangerous. Moose can be very aggressive, both the males and females. We stayed in the trees.

We got back to our campsite and roasted weenies. And marshmallows of course. And saw the moose that lives right at our campsite. We went to a ranger talk about moose, which was very cool. It did make me more paranoid though when the ranger said she had been charged by a moose during her moose research. So that night,when I had to get up in the middle of the night to take a trip to the bathroom, I kept shining my headlamp (if that's not super nerdy, I don't know what is) around in terror, waiting for a moose to mow me down without ever asking for a muffin (get it?).

Our second night felt warmer to us (again, perhaps it was zipping ourselves into a smaller part of the tent...and then the aftershocks of eating baked beans...and we also drank hot chocolate right before bed.). When I spoke to the ranger the next day and commented that it was much warmer, she gave me a weird look and said, "It was 20 degrees in Grand Lake at 2:30am, so I'm not sure why you think it was warmer." Thank goodness for beans, I guess. I'll never leave home without them again.

Or handwarmers. I slept with handwarmers, toe warmers, and a body warmer. So did the boys. Eamonn tried toe warmers and they apparently malfunctioned. Mine were still hot at noon the next day, which is a crazy long time.

As an interesting aside, it's amazing how many calories your body burns trying to keep itself warm. Shivering is a very good workout.

We slept fully clothed. I wore pajama pants, yoga pants, a short sleeved t-shirt, a fleece hoodie, a fleece jacket and two pairs of wool socks. The boys were similarly dressed. We all slept in hats. I never even took my bra off all weekend--I didn't want to strip down too far. I did change my underwear, just in case you wondered. Because that would be gross. As far as I'm concerned. The boys saw nothing wrong in attempting to wear the same clothes all weekend.

I love how relaxed camping is. Yes, we did a fair amount of siteseeing around the park, but a lot of our time was spent puttering around the camp, and I like that. On Saturday morning, the sun was finally peeking over the top of the mountain, Eamonn and the boys went off to wash dishes, and I sat by the campfire and dozed with my face turned up to the warm sun. It was an extremely pleasant way to spend a morning. No rushing to get to a museum by a certain time, to see something, be somewhere. We were just being and I liked it.

In fact, I spent a lot of time just being grateful for those 0 degree sleeping bags.

Let's Gather 'Round the Campfire and Sing a Campfire Songgggggg!

2010-09-14T23:11:00.004-06:00

I can't believe I just used that as a title. Anyone whose kids watch Sponge Bob will recognize it. Good grief.

So finally, this past weekend, everyone was healthy (at the start of the trip) and we got to take our tent on its maiden voyage. Our destination: Rocky Mountain National Park about 2 hours from home.

Here's what I learned on my first tent camping outing since 1990.
-Even if everyone appears healthy when you leave the house, someone will be sick by the time you get to the campground. In this instance--Finn. We were on a dirt road and I heard the telltale pre-virus, pre-asthma cough. Sure enough, he had an asthma attack in the middle of the night. Fortunately, we had his puffer.

-Even if you bring two firelighters, your wood will not light and your stove will malfunction while you watch the temperature plummet past freezing.

-Speaking of watching the temperature plummet past freezing, do not rely on Weather.com when they say temperatures will be in the mid-30s. Call ahead to the campground so the park ranger can tell you the actual overnight temperature will be about 18 degrees. Fahrenheit. That's brisk, people.

-Don't worry about the bears. In this neck of the woods, your worst enemy is a moose. And that moose roaming freely through the campground? Stear clear.

-Driving 30 miles one way to get decongestant so your child can breathe in the night and everyone can sleep isn't really such a big deal. Except when you forget to take the National Parks Pass when you leave the park.

-It's OK to eat three hot dogs while camping. Baked beans on the other hand--not so smart, especially when you zip four people into the smallest part of the tent to try and preserve some small amount of heat.

-Get the zero degree sleeping bags even if you don't think you'll need them. Don't say things to your husband like, "It's not like we'll ever camp when it's colder than 30 degrees!" Clearly, mistakes happen.

-Campfire smoke will always blow in the direction you're sitting.

-There are always spiders in the bathrooms.

-It's OK to stand in front of the hand dryers and warm yourself. Even if people are waiting to dry their hands.

I'm ready to go again. But in a westerly direction this time, where it might be a tad warmer.

Here's a pictorial view of our tent adventure.

A word about the pictures. I am most annoyed with Kodak Gallery. Their new format meant it took me TWO HOURS to add photo captions. And their slideshow is cutting off our heads in some pictures. Nice. Rest assured when I took the pictures originally, I did not decapitate anyone.

I Haven't Been Eaten by Bears. Yet.

2010-09-09T23:21:00.003-06:00

Right after I wrote that post about how no one got sick at school the first two days, Declan got sick. So he was home on Friday and thus, we did not go camping. And thus, I did not have any bear encounters.

We did have a wildlife encouter though:

Even though we couldn't go camping, we did take a day trip up Mt. Evans, which boasts the highest paved road in North America. Mt. Evans is one of Colorado's 14ers.

You can see a bunch of pictures here.

Tomorrow we're trying the camping thing again. I was concerned that we didn't have bear bells. Tara said, "You don't need bear bells if you're hiking with Finn."

Too true. Too true.

I Wonder What Else I Don't Know?

2010-09-02T14:09:00.007-06:00

All in all the first day of school seemed to go well yesterday. I didn't get a call from the school nurse telling me someone was sick or injured, so we're off to a rip-roaring start in my book.

I was packing Finn's lunch yesterday morning (Declan chose to buy the new scratch-cooked lunch on the first day--spaghetti with meat sauce. Finn hates "sauce" so he was packing. He bought chicken and cheese quesadillas today so I'm anxious to hear his "review"). Anyway, as I was packing Finn's lunch, I wrote a little note that said I hoped he was enjoying his first day of second grade. As I wrote yesterday, there was a little bit of first day anxiety for Finn, and I wanted to let him know I was thinking of him.

But here's the thing. I never would have thought to write notes to my kids in their lunchboxes. I know. What kind of mother am I? Is this a newfangled thing though? My Mom never wrote us notes in our lunches. Of course, we typically bought our lunch or packed our own, so there weren't really any note writing opportunities.

I heard about the "note" thing from Eamonn's cousin, Theresa, who said to me when Declan was starting kindergarten, "...and of course you write them little notes and smiley faces on their napkins..." I do? I should? Of course I should! And I do. Now that I know about it.

So last night as I was doing dishes and found Finn's note still stuck to the bottom of his sandwich container where he had me put it because he didn't want his friends to see it because they might make fun of him--whatever--I pondered all of the other things about parenting and life in general that I don't know about, but am probably doing wrong or possibly not doing at all. I wonder which is worse?

Sometimes I wonder how I made it to the age of 42 without knowing some of these things. Whatever they are. Especially since some of these things involve safety. For example, in college, I went camping with friends. This was in Kentucky and it's not like it was bear country or anything, but I don't think we gave a thought to wildlife and safety. So when Eamonn's cousin, Eamon, and his wife, Nicole, were going camping one time and I expressed concern, I was mostly thinking about the weather because it was supposed to snow. I didn't want them to freeze to death or anything. So when Nicole tried to reassure me by saying things like, "We know to put all of our food, toothpaste, or anything a bear might think of as food in a bear safe container away from where we're sleeping. And we know not to sleep in the same clothes we wear while we're cooking," I was astonished. You have to think about these things? Bears would want to get in my tent?

Oh my word. I'd never thought of any of that.

Which isn't very reassuring because we're trying to go camping this weekend if schedules allow for it.

But it got me wondering: What else won't I know until after the fact? Because not knowing that you shouldn't sleep in the same clothes you cooked in sounds pretty important. I'd better Google "bears" and "camping safety" tonight.

If you haven't heard from me by Tuesday, it's possible I've been eaten by bears.

I'll miss you.

Love,
Natalie

Back to School. Back to Blogging.

2010-09-01T11:07:00.005-06:00

Every year it's the same.

Taking pictures on the first day of school, first thing in the AM when they have to look into the sun.

I need to change our traditional picture taking spot. This may be the only time you ever see these shirts, except for school pictures. We bought them when we were in Ohio and heading to Eamonn's cousin's wedding in Virginia (which you haven't heard about because clearly I STILL haven't uploaded the pictures). The boys liked the shirts and I said I'd buy them for the wedding if they wore them the first day of school. And so they did, but of course, in skater style, not wedding style (buttoned up, no t-shirt underneath). I'm OK with it even though there was grumbling at breakfast about having to "dress up" on their first day of school. I swear, next year I'm whipping out the clip on ties to freak them out.

Heading up the street.

With good friends and neighbors, Cameron and Hayley. Everyone is still blinded by the sun.

There were definitely mixed feelings in our house this morning about the first day of school. For the past two nights, Finn has cried and said he wasn't ready for school to start. When I asked why, he said he didn't want to go seven hours without seeing me and Eamonn. This is sweet and it tugs at my heartstrings just a tad, and I think it's partially true, but I also think he's a kid that likes to be at home...near the Wii. And of course, I also know that the "unknown" is very troubling to Finn. Is it his personality? Is it his SPD? Heck, I don't know, but I also know that after the first few days of school and becoming familiar with the routine, he will settle in. He was adverse to giving me a goodbye kiss in front of his friends, so obviously the peer pressure of PDA with your mom is more intense than the "I don't want to go seven hours without seeing you" pressure.

Declan seemed to go off without a worry. He's the BMOC this year--5th grade. He was a little bummed out that his closest friends aren't in his class this year (he's been with several of his Posse since second grade), but there are kids he knows in his class and he makes friends pretty easily. Of course, who wouldn't say that about their kid?!?!? His cousin, Garvin, started middle school this week and is raving about it, so my guess is that Declan's thoughts are already a year down the road when it's his turn to wander into that hideous phase of life (at least as far as I'm concerned) that is middle school. Ick. But if he's excited, I won't squash it by telling him it was the worst two years of my childhood life.

My mortgage-paying work is finished for the day. I will now run some errands and go back to the school to put up a bulletin board for a fundraiser for which I am our school's coordinator--along with two of my friends that I strong-armed.

Volunteering. If I got paid for every hour I did it, I'd be a millionaire! In fact, I've just been hit with inspiration. As parents continue to refuse to volunteer over the years and my kids grow up, I will become a Mercenary Volunteer. I'll prostitute myself out to anyone who needs bulletin boards made, committees chaired, book fairs set up, cookies baked for teacher birthdays. I'm telling you, this is it.

Being the Crazy One Pays Off. Sometimes.

2010-08-23T14:37:00.003-06:00

While I continue to work on my deadline and download/upload photos behind the scenes, here's a little update on our local initiative to get healthier food into the schools.

A bit of background before I link you out to a newspaper story: The school in the story, Brush Creek Elementary, is the boys' school. Kelly Liken, the chef in the story and contestant on this season's Top Chef, has a restaurant up valley and lives in our neighborhood.

Obviously, I'm very excited about the outcome of years and years of meeting with the school district personnel. The real hero behind all of this is my sister, Tara (and her friends), who started this initiative when my nephew was in kindergarten. He starts middle school a week from today. Better late than never. Of course, this trial program at our school is only planned for the elementary schools at this point.

Ah well, this year the elementary schools, next year, the world. I'd better sharpen my vegetable peeler.

Read on.

Home Sweet Home

2010-08-22T13:00:00.004-06:00

We are back. Lots of photos to share. Lots of laundry to be done. Work deadlines call. I'm in the process of all of this and will be back soon with an update on where we've been and photos of what we've been doing. It will be riveting, I swear.

We Interrupt This Summer to Blog

2010-08-10T10:09:00.009-06:00

I KNOW. You hate it when I don't post. Some of you even told me this in person when I saw you. I hate it when I don't post, too. I have a computer at my disposal at Mom's so why aren't I posting?

Single parenting hogs my time. I know, wah, from those of you who are single parents. I have a million excuses. We've been on the go. I have to get the kids in bed. I still have to work at night. I want to spend time with my Mom. I may or may not be going out on occasion. I may or may not have been hungover once. Or possibly twice. I may or may not be in a food coma. I may or may not have spent way too much time at fairs and waterparks.

Still about nine days to go.

I may or may not be ready to go home. But then I read that one of those convicts who escaped in Arizona was apprehended about an hour from our house and that freaked me out just a tad. Maybe I'll stay tucked in here in Ohio for just a bit longer.

Here's a little sneak peak at what we've been up to...

We celebrated little Stella's third birthday (Stella is my cousin's daughter and the boys LOVE her)

We drove large pieces of farm machinery with Great Grandpa.

We tried to beat Great Grandpa at checkers. Repeatedly. And failed.

We swam with some of our friends from our old playgroup. We miss them! A LOT!

We went down the Giant Slide at the Ohio State Fair. Some of us screamed like girls.

We milked a cow.

We have eaten ice cream all over town.

We hung out with friends and made s'mores.

We ate sushi with Stella.

We spent ALL DAY, all day I tell you!, with friends at the water park. Some of us forgot to put sunscreen in important places and have a sunburn.

Our pants seem to mysteriously get smaller when we come to Ohio...

Much more to come from our next, undisclosed location...

I Just Had to Make it to the End of July

2010-07-27T16:59:00.006-06:00

Right around March each year, I start to panic. Afterall, in March, summer is only about three months away and I'm getting a little nervous. I love summer--the unscheduled-ness of it all, not waking up to an alarm, no real requirements (except hockey--why does there always seem to be hockey regardless of the time of year?!), lots of stay-up-late movie nights. However, I'm not big on the summer heat, which fortunately only lasts for six weeks or so out here. Anyway, I like the concept of summer.

The March Panic arises from the fact that I realize that in three months, the boys will be home full-time. It's not that I don't want them to be at home with me, but it does complicate matters as far as work goes. I lose most of my working time during the day AND they go to bed later.

So when summer is coming, the kids are all like, "YAY! SUMMER!!!!!!" And I'm more like, "oh yay, it's summer." Note the lack of exclamation points and capital letters in my "exclamation."

But I don't want their summer to be all about me working, so I just sort of fumble along during the summer. "Fortunately," Eamonn is still unemployed so that has dramatically helped this year.

At any rate, when school was letting out, I was thinking, "How am I going to make it to the end of July when we go to Ohio?" It seemed like a long space of time to fill and a lot of work had to take place in that time. I had to do my normal weekly work, a few extra jobs for one client, and complete a magazine for another. I was sort of overwhelmed by the thought of it all.

And now, suddenly, it's here. I made it. I kept up with my weekly work, I finished the extra projects, and over the weekend, I turned in the magazine--several days ahead of schedule, pardon me while I pat myself on the back. And breathe a sigh of relief.

Tomorrow we drive to Denver to spend the day and have Finn's bloodwork done before the boys and I fly to Ohio on Thursday.

I admit, I'm excited to see everyone. Yesterday, I talked to my Grandpa on the phone and he sounded so incredibly good. I can't wait to spend time with him. That man always has a story. I'll tell you a funny story about Grandpa. Late this winter, he had a heart attack. OK, that's not the funny part. I'm getting to the funny part. Anyway, after the heart attack, Grandpa went through some type of physical therapy/rehabilitation. One day he was at rehab and someone called up to the exercise room, or wherever he was, and asked if there was a typo because was there really someone in cardiac rehab who was 96? Did they mean he was really 69? The people looking at the paperwork couldn't believe it.

And now he's 97. Madness.

The boys are really excited for Ohio as well. The other day, did I already write about this???, they had some elaborate Lego game set up involving buildings and all of their characters, who were eating at Donato's and Graeter's, our favorite pizza and ice cream haunts in Ohio. Some children look forward to siteseeing, my children look forward to eating. Just like their mother.

Eamonn is remaining behind, all of you Internet stalkers, so don't get any crazy ideas about burgling our house. And remember, he's unemployed so he has all the time in the world to sit here and guard the house with his shotgun.

Stay tuned for pictures of us eating pizza and ice cream until we're sick.

Look How Rustic and Outdoorsy My Kids Are!

2010-07-21T22:02:00.004-06:00

No, not cooking over an open fire. Eating pizza in the wilds of Vail Mountain. We are such a hardy breed of people.

And now, please admire my photographic skills at Eamonn's bike race tonight:

Boggles the mind, doesn't it?

Tough Day at the Office

2010-07-15T11:07:00.005-06:00

Yesterday, I had the extraordinarily difficult assignment of driving to Aspen for a client.

The view from my car office on the way:

This is Mt. Sopris. When you are leaving Glenwood Springs and driving south on Highway 82 towards Aspen, you come around a corner and this is what you see. In the winter, it's obviously covered with snow, but regardless of the time of year, every time I round that bend and see Mt. Sopris, it takes my breath away a little bit. It's not even one of Colorado's 55 "14ers," (peaks with an elevation of 14,000 feet or higher) but I love it just the same.

Maybe I am finally a mountain girl :)

Small Town Fourth of July

2010-07-13T23:02:00.009-06:00

My Dad was here visiting over the Fourth of July. While we go up valley for the big fireworks one night, I love our town's small town celebration on the actual Fourth of July.

It starts wtih a bike parade:

I strategically position myself to photograph my family. Declan (on red bike) buzzes by without even a wave.

Finn concentrating very hard.

The parade ends at the town park where there are sack races:

A balloon toss:

Finn and Eamonn were a little overzealous and were out in the first toss.

And of course, the pie eating contest. Recall that last year Finn and Eamonn won their respective categories. They were unsuccessful in their attempts to defend their positions this year. Perhaps they shouldn't have eaten donuts before the contest. But fun was had by all.

See? Doesn't Eamonn look like he's having fun?

The best part is when the fire truck comes and sprays everyone down. The kids were happy. They didn't have to take showers after the pie eating.

Other activities with Grandpa. He watched Declan play hockey (yes, he's already back on the ice, getting ready for next season).

We had a picnic in Vail after hockey, walked to a park, got caught in a huge rainstorm.

This is pre-rainstorm.

Grandpa hiked with Finn (while Declan was at hockey).

We all went on a hike. Please note--we rode the chairlift UP the mountain and hiked back down. I was surprisingly sore from hiking down. Clearly I am getting old.

That's the Gore Range in the background.

Heading down. We walked about 100 yards and stopped for lunch. We're tough like that.

We had a wildlife encounter (that's a mule deer).

Reaping the fruits of their labor at the bottom.

Crazy Veganism

2010-07-09T10:44:00.004-06:00

First, before I talk about my latest foray into gluten free veganism, I want to reassure you that the bear in the previous post is NOT a grizzly. It's a black bear, which also, confusingly, can be brown. We don't have grizzlies around here, which is good, because the mountain lions are scary enough. Anyway, the black bear is a herbivore, unless he/she gets in your trash, and poses little threat to humans.

Just wanted to put your mind at ease.

But that was a big bear.

So, back to veganism.

Remember back in April when I did my little gluten free/vegan experiment? No? You're not monitoring my every dietary step? How shocking.

Anyway, for many years now I've been curious about different types of food and how they work for/against our bodies. We've made a lot of changes to our diet, some of which I've written about on CaringBridge or here. Basically, we are mostly organic, especially with the Dirty Dozen foods that contain the most pesticides (you can print off a card to take with you to the grocery store here: http://www.foodnews.org/). Of course, our driving motivation to be organic was Finn's leukemia, but I also have read so much about how pesticides are present in kids' urine (eeek, I just said URINE in a blog post), but after just a few days of organic eating, the pesticides disappear. That speaks to me.

There are lots of other things I've wondered about and gluten was one of them. After my two week gluten free/vegan experiment in April, I never went back to eating gluten. I noticed that big a difference. And now when I eat it, I notice a big difference--in a gastrointentinal way. I'll spare you the details.

After the experiment, I also never really went back to cheese (that was a hard one) and most other dairy. It was just astonishing how much better I felt. I did add back in meat and eggs.

But the results of that first challenge were undeniable--I felt better and I lost weight. So on July 5th, I started another gluten free/vegan challenge through a fitness forum I go to each day.

This time I'm going gluten free/vegan for the month of July (I cook vegan stuff that Eamonn and the boys eat, but I also make them a cooked protein to go with their meals). I'm finding it much easier this time. I was already gluten free, so that was no big deal. I just dropped out the meat again and am off and running.

The people who saw on Facebook that I was doing this challenge wondered what the heck I was eating. I had to get some vegan books out of the library, and even modify those a little because a lot of those recipes contained wheat/gluten. It takes more planning, but again, I'm always curious to try new stuff and I do like the results.

For the curious, I've been eating:
Breakfasts: A meal replacement shake called Shakeology (by far the best protein/meal replacement shake EVER--I get the DTs when I skip a day, I think because it contains a plant from the Amazon Rainforest called camu camu. It gives you a natural buzz.); almond milk and granola, fruit, oatmeal, gluten free waffles or pancakes.

Lunches: I make a seed bread in my dehydrator and I load it with all sorts of veggies, sprouts, etc. I also eat Udi's gluten free bread. The kids like it and don't even know it's gluten free. I did discover Udi's has egg whites in it, so I have to steer clear of it for the challenge, but it works well for us on a daily basis otherwise. I love soup, so I eat a lot of soup. Beans, lentils, salads.

Dinners: Again, lots of beans, grains (note--when I first tried to type "grains" I typed "brains," which wouldn't be very vegan), and veggies. The cookbooks I got from the library really helped. I made a delish quinoa tabbouleh the other night that I nearly made myself sick on because I pigged out on it. I'll put the recipe at the bottom. Tonight I'm experimenting and making homemade pizza on a gluten free premade crust. I'll make my own sauce and I'm going to top it with spinach and other veggies, and almond cheese. Very curious about the almond cheese! I eat quinoa pasta with marinara sauces.

Basically, you can find just about anything in vegan form, if you look. I am staying away from tofu on this challenge. Although I like it, I read recently that people with a history of thyroid issues should not tofu. Let's see, what else? Salads with edamame--love that stuff. Pesto. Fruit salads with an orange juice and coconut milk dressing. Tacos--made with white beans and greens and served on corn tortillas. My favorite tortilla chips are inbounds on this challege--happy day--as is popcorn. I did do a challenge where I wasn't allowed to eat popcorn. That didn't go well.

I'll keep you updated. So far I'm down 1.2 pounds this week. It's not as hard as I thought it would be. It's just a different way of doing things! Do I intend to remove meat from my diet forever? I don't think so, but I do find I miss it even less this time. I'm realizing though that when I cook and eat in this way, I need to make sure I prepare a main dish that is vegan so that I'm not just eating a series of side dishes--it's more mentally satisfying that way.

Make this and see what you think:

Quinoa Tabbouleh

1 cup (175 g) quinoa
2 1/2 cups (590 ml) water or stock (I used vegetable stock)
4 scallions, finely chopped
1 cucumber, seeded and finely diced (peeling optional)
2 large tomatoes, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced or pressed
1/2 cup (30 g) finely chopped flat leaf parsley
1/4 cup (25 g) finely chopped fresh mint
1/3 (80 ml) fresh lemon juice (or to taste)
1 tsp. (6 g) salt (or to taste)
1/4 cup (60 ml) olive oil
1/4 tsp freshly ground pepper

Directions
Rinse quinoa using small strainer to remove a natural substance called saponin which protects the plant from birds and tends to have a bitter taste. It is easily rinsed off before cooking. (Some brands are pre-rinsed)

In a medium-size pot, add quinoa to water (or stock) and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer 10 – 15 minutes. When all water is absorbed, quinoa is done. Simmer for a few more minutes, if necessary. If excess water remains, turn off heat and let water soak into the grain. If you still have excess water after that, drain off. Let cool.

In large mixing bowl, combine scallions, cucumber, tomatoes, garlic, parsley, mint, lemon juice, salt, and olive oil. Once quinoa cools, add to the bowl, mixing well and tweaking salt, lemon juice, and oil to get right consistency and desired taste.

Yield: 4 – 6 servings

Serving suggestions and variations:
Add any or all of these vegetables: finely chopped celery, green or red bell peppers, or chopped olives. Also try adding 1 cup (240 g) cooked chickpeas or a pinch of cinnamon. Serve as a salad or side dish with pita bread or crackers.

Note: I added chickpeas and kalamata olives.

Nutrition per serving:
212 calories; 11 g fat; 5 g protein; 26 g carbohydrate; 3 g dietary fiber; 0 mg cholesterol; 372 mg sodium.

A note about quinoa:
Nutritionally, quinoa is considered a super grain. A complete protein, it contains 11 grams of protein per 1/2 cup (95 g), offers more iron than other grains, and contains high levels of potassium and riboflavin, as well as B6, niacin, and thiamin.

Please Don't Feed the Bears

2010-07-08T13:51:00.004-06:00

When you live in the mountains, this is why you, in theory, are required to own bear-proof trash containers. Tara's neighbors apparently aren't following the rules. . .