Dear LiveJournal,
I love you. Really and truly I do. But you just ain't the same as sandyandkurt....I know, I know. You and I have tried, but it's just way to easy to forget you, and since noone really sees you besides me, it's easy to neglect you.
I'm sorry about that.
Maybe it's time for a change.
I love you. Really and truly I do. But you just ain't the same as sandyandkurt....I know, I know. You and I have tried, but it's just way to easy to forget you, and since noone really sees you besides me, it's easy to neglect you.
I'm sorry about that.
Maybe it's time for a change.
1. People in San Francisco are VERY helpful and friendly.
More than once, people stopped us and asked us if we needed help or directions. Now this could be because the five of us looked like a family of lost tourists, but I have to think that people there are just, well, nice. One woman, noticing me looking at a bus schedule, tapped me on the shoulder and told us that we were heading into a "bad" part of town and offered to help us find another bus. Another day, a very nice couple pointed us toward the filbert steps and gave us a brief history of their neighborhood. Our final day in SF, Linda walked us 2 blocks toward Yerba Buena gardens and insisted we visit her neighborhood (Haight-Ashbury) and told us that she'd get us a great deal at the Hilton where she worked. I was dumbfounded. I guess I assumed that since SF is such a big town, people would be pretty tired of the tourists traipsing around their neighborhoods snapping photos of the foliage in their yards. But it was just the opposite. Forget "Minnesota Nice" -- from now on, I'm calling it "San Francisco" nice.
2. California smells WONDERFUL!
The moment we stepped out of the airport, the scents of blooming flowers overwhelmed us. I've never experienced such beautiful smells as I did this past week. Roses and cherry blossoms wafted through the air as we walked down city streets, and even the salty sea breeze was pleasant. Thinking about it as I type it makes me smile even now.
3. Arf could wear one outfit the entire week, and he still looked better than I did.
I made a teeny tiny mistake in offering to pack for my dear husband, then neglecting to pack him any pants. For seven days, he wore nothing but a white dress shirt and khaki pants, and he looked great! I offered to buy him some pants, but he refused. The funny thing is that in all of the hundreds of photos I snapped, he's going to be wearing the same clothes in every one. Good thing he's so handsome!
4. When forced to do it, my kids will walk for long distances with very few complaints.
In one day, our family walked from Ghiradelli Square to Coit Tower, then, after a short bus ride, walked the entire length of Chinatown. Later that same day, we walked through quite a bit of Golden Gate park. Of course, we made a number of snack/playground/lunch stops, but those of you familiar with the town know just how far those little legs walked in one day. The funny thing is that here at home, when we take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood, I hear LOTS of complaints of sore legs and exhaustion coupled with extreme starvation (mostly Belly). But on this trip, we heard very little of that. And when we did, a quick rest atop Kurt's shoulders usually fixed the problem.
On our last day, we made a geographical error and accidentally walked the kids all the way from the Powell BART station to Yerba Buena gardens, then down to the Piers. The strong winds just about killed us, but the kids barely complained, even while toting backpacks. After we made it down to Pier 39, we did a little math and figured out that we had walked a number of MILES instead of the few blocks we'd planned on. The kids were none the wiser though, and we decided it was best not to tell them this until later when they were well rested.
5. The absolute best time to tour attractions in San Francisco? Early Sunday Morning.
6. Best time to find free parking? Early Sunday morning.
7. When in Doubt about what to do, rely on the experts.
One of the reasons our trip was so spectacular had to do with advice we received from helpful friends. If not for my friend Jennifer and her tour books, we would never had chosen to take some of the walking tours that we did and wouldn't have found the best parts of San Francisco. Her advice about certain beaches to visit was right on, and we avoided a lot of the pitfalls in the town that were basically tourist traps. Another friend suggested a tour of the Jelly Belly factory in Fairfield, which was well worth the detour on our way to Santa Cruz. Because of them, we didn't feel quite so lost and really felt like we'd seen the best that California had to offer.
8. The food in California was awesome!
Nothing beat the the homemade clam chowder and sourdough at the Boudin Bakery, except perhaps the MooShu Pork Burritos at the Fog City Diner (another suggestion from Jennifer), and the seafood on the wharf in Santa Cruz was excellent. Their catch of the day was truly that -- straight out of the bay that day.
Of course, we didn't neglect certain chains. I am now a huge fan of In-and-Out Burger and can see why two of my friends suggested that we eat there at least once.
9. One Can Never Collect Too Many Clam shells
At least that's what my children believe.
10. We are a very lucky family.
Apparently, we hit the motherload when it came to San Francisco weather. Sunny skies, warm temps, and virtually no wind made for some awesome sightseeing. Locals told us more than once that this was unlike anything they'd seen, and sure enough, as we left the area on Friday morning, we caught the weather report for the next week, which called for rain every day.
As we touched down in Rochester, the kids were already planning our next vacation, and although we could not afford to do something like this often, this trip did make me realize that we need to try. The memories alone made this trip priceless, and I intend to do this again with my family.
More than once, people stopped us and asked us if we needed help or directions. Now this could be because the five of us looked like a family of lost tourists, but I have to think that people there are just, well, nice. One woman, noticing me looking at a bus schedule, tapped me on the shoulder and told us that we were heading into a "bad" part of town and offered to help us find another bus. Another day, a very nice couple pointed us toward the filbert steps and gave us a brief history of their neighborhood. Our final day in SF, Linda walked us 2 blocks toward Yerba Buena gardens and insisted we visit her neighborhood (Haight-Ashbury) and told us that she'd get us a great deal at the Hilton where she worked. I was dumbfounded. I guess I assumed that since SF is such a big town, people would be pretty tired of the tourists traipsing around their neighborhoods snapping photos of the foliage in their yards. But it was just the opposite. Forget "Minnesota Nice" -- from now on, I'm calling it "San Francisco" nice.
2. California smells WONDERFUL!
The moment we stepped out of the airport, the scents of blooming flowers overwhelmed us. I've never experienced such beautiful smells as I did this past week. Roses and cherry blossoms wafted through the air as we walked down city streets, and even the salty sea breeze was pleasant. Thinking about it as I type it makes me smile even now.
3. Arf could wear one outfit the entire week, and he still looked better than I did.
I made a teeny tiny mistake in offering to pack for my dear husband, then neglecting to pack him any pants. For seven days, he wore nothing but a white dress shirt and khaki pants, and he looked great! I offered to buy him some pants, but he refused. The funny thing is that in all of the hundreds of photos I snapped, he's going to be wearing the same clothes in every one. Good thing he's so handsome!
4. When forced to do it, my kids will walk for long distances with very few complaints.
In one day, our family walked from Ghiradelli Square to Coit Tower, then, after a short bus ride, walked the entire length of Chinatown. Later that same day, we walked through quite a bit of Golden Gate park. Of course, we made a number of snack/playground/lunch stops, but those of you familiar with the town know just how far those little legs walked in one day. The funny thing is that here at home, when we take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood, I hear LOTS of complaints of sore legs and exhaustion coupled with extreme starvation (mostly Belly). But on this trip, we heard very little of that. And when we did, a quick rest atop Kurt's shoulders usually fixed the problem.
On our last day, we made a geographical error and accidentally walked the kids all the way from the Powell BART station to Yerba Buena gardens, then down to the Piers. The strong winds just about killed us, but the kids barely complained, even while toting backpacks. After we made it down to Pier 39, we did a little math and figured out that we had walked a number of MILES instead of the few blocks we'd planned on. The kids were none the wiser though, and we decided it was best not to tell them this until later when they were well rested.
5. The absolute best time to tour attractions in San Francisco? Early Sunday Morning.
6. Best time to find free parking? Early Sunday morning.
7. When in Doubt about what to do, rely on the experts.
One of the reasons our trip was so spectacular had to do with advice we received from helpful friends. If not for my friend Jennifer and her tour books, we would never had chosen to take some of the walking tours that we did and wouldn't have found the best parts of San Francisco. Her advice about certain beaches to visit was right on, and we avoided a lot of the pitfalls in the town that were basically tourist traps. Another friend suggested a tour of the Jelly Belly factory in Fairfield, which was well worth the detour on our way to Santa Cruz. Because of them, we didn't feel quite so lost and really felt like we'd seen the best that California had to offer.
8. The food in California was awesome!
Nothing beat the the homemade clam chowder and sourdough at the Boudin Bakery, except perhaps the MooShu Pork Burritos at the Fog City Diner (another suggestion from Jennifer), and the seafood on the wharf in Santa Cruz was excellent. Their catch of the day was truly that -- straight out of the bay that day.
Of course, we didn't neglect certain chains. I am now a huge fan of In-and-Out Burger and can see why two of my friends suggested that we eat there at least once.
9. One Can Never Collect Too Many Clam shells
At least that's what my children believe.
10. We are a very lucky family.
Apparently, we hit the motherload when it came to San Francisco weather. Sunny skies, warm temps, and virtually no wind made for some awesome sightseeing. Locals told us more than once that this was unlike anything they'd seen, and sure enough, as we left the area on Friday morning, we caught the weather report for the next week, which called for rain every day.
As we touched down in Rochester, the kids were already planning our next vacation, and although we could not afford to do something like this often, this trip did make me realize that we need to try. The memories alone made this trip priceless, and I intend to do this again with my family.
I've been up since 2:50, and I cannot seem to find sleep again.
Our family leaves for California in one week, and I couldn't be happier. It's a surprise for the kids. The reasons for this decision are twofold: 1) Kurt and I will not have to endure endless questions regarding EXACTLY when we will be leaving, and 2) I will not have to unpack the kids' bags with all of the crap they will unnecessarily pack in order to "help" me plan for the trip. As cute as it is, I am a firm believer that Annika really doesn't need a dozen pair of underwear, a flashlight, a few stray perler beads, and stuffed mouse to get her through a week in sunny California.
So we thought it was best to surprise them one day before we leave, just to keep anticipation high and the questions at a miniminum.
I have to admit though that I'm dying to tell them. I can't help smiling at the thought of Alex and Owen's faces when I tell them that we're going to ride in an actual airplane, or the look of Annika's expression of sheer joy when she sees the sea lions at Pier 39.
I'm not gonna lie -- this trip is gonna be awesome.
And with a week to go, I feel quite confident. Bags are nearly packed, airplane activity kits have been procured, and instruction sheets to the cat sitter, airport chauffeur, and dog kennel retriever have been written. Haircut appointments have been made, sandals have been bought, and bag lunches have been planned in my head. Heck, I even have plans to clean my house come Monday.
So what am I doing up at this god-awful hour on a Saturday morning?
I am terrified that something is going to go wrong.
I don't know why I do this to myself, but more than once this week I have awakened from horrific dreams involving my beloved family and airport delays, horrible weather conditions, and (gasp!)plane malfunctions.
They're very vivid, very scary, and they manage to keep me up long after I envision them.
The logical side of me tells me that these are all just dreams, conjured up in my over anal, type-A mind...but I can't help worrying.
And I've still got a week's worth of nights to go. What's a girl to do?
Our family leaves for California in one week, and I couldn't be happier. It's a surprise for the kids. The reasons for this decision are twofold: 1) Kurt and I will not have to endure endless questions regarding EXACTLY when we will be leaving, and 2) I will not have to unpack the kids' bags with all of the crap they will unnecessarily pack in order to "help" me plan for the trip. As cute as it is, I am a firm believer that Annika really doesn't need a dozen pair of underwear, a flashlight, a few stray perler beads, and stuffed mouse to get her through a week in sunny California.
So we thought it was best to surprise them one day before we leave, just to keep anticipation high and the questions at a miniminum.
I have to admit though that I'm dying to tell them. I can't help smiling at the thought of Alex and Owen's faces when I tell them that we're going to ride in an actual airplane, or the look of Annika's expression of sheer joy when she sees the sea lions at Pier 39.
I'm not gonna lie -- this trip is gonna be awesome.
And with a week to go, I feel quite confident. Bags are nearly packed, airplane activity kits have been procured, and instruction sheets to the cat sitter, airport chauffeur, and dog kennel retriever have been written. Haircut appointments have been made, sandals have been bought, and bag lunches have been planned in my head. Heck, I even have plans to clean my house come Monday.
So what am I doing up at this god-awful hour on a Saturday morning?
I am terrified that something is going to go wrong.
I don't know why I do this to myself, but more than once this week I have awakened from horrific dreams involving my beloved family and airport delays, horrible weather conditions, and (gasp!)plane malfunctions.
They're very vivid, very scary, and they manage to keep me up long after I envision them.
The logical side of me tells me that these are all just dreams, conjured up in my over anal, type-A mind...but I can't help worrying.
And I've still got a week's worth of nights to go. What's a girl to do?
I found this tucked under Annika's bed a few days ago....I think they're pretty good rules to follow.
This afternoon, I took the kids out to run a couple of errands with me. My main mission was to pick up a few cookie ingredients at the grocery store and drop off a couple of library books before the kids started to get bored, but it turned out to be a pleasant little venture out on a beautiful spring-like day.
My spirits lifted by the sun, I suggested that we visit the dollar store before we headed back home. My kids LOVE the dollar store -- they routinely ask me if we can go there, so it was no surprise to me when the kids' eyes lit up simultaneously and started hopping up and down in their car seats when we pulled into the parking lot of The Dollar Tree.
As we walked to the door, I cautioned them that we were only looking for Valentine's Day decorations. Our windows were looking quite bare since I'd removed the winter snowflakes that had been stuck there since mid December, and I was hoping we'd find some hearts, cupids, and flowers to brighten up the kitchen.
Of course, once we entered, that was all forgotten as they raced down the aisles. "Look Mom!" Belly explained, pointing at some pastel colored baskets, "They already have Easter stuff out! WHY would they have Easter stuff out already?" He asked incredulously.
I watched HerMajesty turn towards the wall and take in the bags of plastic coated eggs, lavender and yellow cellophane, and mounds of lime green Easter grass. A smile spread across her face as she poked my arm. "Mom!!!" She said excitedly. "Mom! I think I just figured it out!" She pointed at the small plastic eggs. "Why would people NEED those colored eggs that the Easter bunny is supposed to leave out?"
I cringed, unprepared for this attack. Before I could come up with a goodlie explanation, she continued with her inquisition. "I think I KNOW!" She said smugly. "Those are for PARENTS to buy. I knew there was no Easter bunny."
I looked down at my four-year-old boys, and felt relief when I realized they were busy examining some paddle balls and weren't taking any of this conversation in. Still, I felt the hairs raise on the back of my neck, and nervously tried to diffuse this situation.
"No," I said calmly. "THOSE are simply for people who want to have an Easter Egg Hunt in their backyard and need some eggs..."
"uh uh," she shook her head, a mischievous grin across her face. "I just knew there was NO Easter bunny. That's why Grandma comes over and you and Daddy go out -- she gasped loudly and clapped her hand over her mouth -- you go to buy presents like YOU'RE THE BUNNY!"
I was clearly uncomfortable with this conversation, and it didn't help me any that an elderly man standing next to us was trying not to laugh out loud at the way I must have looked. All the same, I couldn't help smiling at my little Sherlock, so confident, so smug, so smart to figure this out on a Monday afternoon in the middle of the seasonal aisle at The Dollar Tree.
"You're wrong," I simply said, and started walking towards to plastic dogs in an attempt to deter her from coming up with any other bright ideas about another mythical fat man who never seems to have a problem getting through the glass case in our gas fireplace.
Her next words stunned me momentarily. "I know I'm right...do you know how I know I'm right Mom?"
I didn't respond and instead decided to feign interest in a small french poodle with a polka dot bow on its tail.
She followed me over and peered at me, inches away from my cheek. "If I'm wrong, then why are you smiling so much?"
Her eyes twinkled in delight, smug with satisfaction that she had caught me.
But I was not about to give up.
"I'm smiling," I said, "because you are such a very silly, silly girl."
But that was only partly true. Truth be told, my smiles reflected the pride I felt at how very smart my daughter has become, and it was a complete joy to know that I will always remember the moment that Easter lightbulb clicked on for her.
That aside, I'm still not giving up...Arf and I will just have to be that much trickier come April.
My spirits lifted by the sun, I suggested that we visit the dollar store before we headed back home. My kids LOVE the dollar store -- they routinely ask me if we can go there, so it was no surprise to me when the kids' eyes lit up simultaneously and started hopping up and down in their car seats when we pulled into the parking lot of The Dollar Tree.
As we walked to the door, I cautioned them that we were only looking for Valentine's Day decorations. Our windows were looking quite bare since I'd removed the winter snowflakes that had been stuck there since mid December, and I was hoping we'd find some hearts, cupids, and flowers to brighten up the kitchen.
Of course, once we entered, that was all forgotten as they raced down the aisles. "Look Mom!" Belly explained, pointing at some pastel colored baskets, "They already have Easter stuff out! WHY would they have Easter stuff out already?" He asked incredulously.
I watched HerMajesty turn towards the wall and take in the bags of plastic coated eggs, lavender and yellow cellophane, and mounds of lime green Easter grass. A smile spread across her face as she poked my arm. "Mom!!!" She said excitedly. "Mom! I think I just figured it out!" She pointed at the small plastic eggs. "Why would people NEED those colored eggs that the Easter bunny is supposed to leave out?"
I cringed, unprepared for this attack. Before I could come up with a good
I looked down at my four-year-old boys, and felt relief when I realized they were busy examining some paddle balls and weren't taking any of this conversation in. Still, I felt the hairs raise on the back of my neck, and nervously tried to diffuse this situation.
"No," I said calmly. "THOSE are simply for people who want to have an Easter Egg Hunt in their backyard and need some eggs..."
"uh uh," she shook her head, a mischievous grin across her face. "I just knew there was NO Easter bunny. That's why Grandma comes over and you and Daddy go out -- she gasped loudly and clapped her hand over her mouth -- you go to buy presents like YOU'RE THE BUNNY!"
I was clearly uncomfortable with this conversation, and it didn't help me any that an elderly man standing next to us was trying not to laugh out loud at the way I must have looked. All the same, I couldn't help smiling at my little Sherlock, so confident, so smug, so smart to figure this out on a Monday afternoon in the middle of the seasonal aisle at The Dollar Tree.
"You're wrong," I simply said, and started walking towards to plastic dogs in an attempt to deter her from coming up with any other bright ideas about another mythical fat man who never seems to have a problem getting through the glass case in our gas fireplace.
Her next words stunned me momentarily. "I know I'm right...do you know how I know I'm right Mom?"
I didn't respond and instead decided to feign interest in a small french poodle with a polka dot bow on its tail.
She followed me over and peered at me, inches away from my cheek. "If I'm wrong, then why are you smiling so much?"
Her eyes twinkled in delight, smug with satisfaction that she had caught me.
But I was not about to give up.
"I'm smiling," I said, "because you are such a very silly, silly girl."
But that was only partly true. Truth be told, my smiles reflected the pride I felt at how very smart my daughter has become, and it was a complete joy to know that I will always remember the moment that Easter lightbulb clicked on for her.
That aside, I'm still not giving up...Arf and I will just have to be that much trickier come April.
Is there any better combination than a sugar cookie and vanilla ice cream?
I think not.
I think not.
Sunday conversation in the van while heading home from church:
Belly: Hey Mom! Guess what I did today???
Me: What?
Belly: I gave my offering at Sunday School today!
Me: That's great, belly.
My mind analyzed that statement for a moment as I realized the implication of what he had just said.
I just had to ask....
Me: Wait. Do you NOT NORMALLY give your offering every week at Sunday School???
Belly was silent, which is totally uncharacteristic for him.
My suspicious eyes shot up to the rearview mirror, catching his impish grin in the reflection.
He took a moment to search for the words before blurting out:
WELL, I'M POOR TOO!!!
Belly: Hey Mom! Guess what I did today???
Me: What?
Belly: I gave my offering at Sunday School today!
Me: That's great, belly.
My mind analyzed that statement for a moment as I realized the implication of what he had just said.
I just had to ask....
Me: Wait. Do you NOT NORMALLY give your offering every week at Sunday School???
Belly was silent, which is totally uncharacteristic for him.
My suspicious eyes shot up to the rearview mirror, catching his impish grin in the reflection.
He took a moment to search for the words before blurting out:
WELL, I'M POOR TOO!!!
HerMajesty's been busy taking photos this week with the camera she received at Christmas. Most of the images chronicle our daily lives here around the house, and while some of the photos could be called "learning" shots, many are quite artistic.
She really has a knack for photographing animals. These shots of Jack are better than any I could have taken. Seriously.
She found the "black and white" function on her camera.
I love this shot of Alex.
I like to call these "Self Portraits."
She really has a knack for photographing animals. These shots of Jack are better than any I could have taken. Seriously.
She found the "black and white" function on her camera.
I love this shot of Alex.
I like to call these "Self Portraits."
1. I am in LOVE with Twilight. Scratch that...I'm in love with Edward Cullen from Twilight. I'm embarrassed to admit that I haven't been this intrigued with a novel since my Harry Potter days. While making tapioca today, I sat and read it while I stirred. It's just that good.
2. After reading the random notes my friend Brad put together, I have been longing for my childhood days in Duluth. All the same, I wish I could go back and relive some of those years. I had no idea how much I missed shut up into my own little world. I really wonder what my life would be like if I'd made more friends back then.
3. My new commitment to a healthy lifestyle has been a difficult one to keep, but a good one all the same. I am finding that a (virtually) sugar-free non-processed world is a place I want to live in. Just 10 days of this, and already I feel less stressed, less tired, and totally energetic. It really does work.
4. I wish I could say the same about my exercise regimen. Each day at the gym is a challenging one for me. This time last year, I was in top shape -- I ran a 10 minute mile without breaking a sweat, and would run a 5K every day. These days, I feel like a wounded animal hobbling along on the treadmill at a much slower speed. I took a short break around the holidays, but I'm baffled as to why my workouts are so poor these days.
5. Today, Belly told me that I "smelled like chicken." Minutes later, HerMajesty remarked that I "smelled like Honeydew tea." I guess if pressed, I prefer the latter.
6. I live for the show LOST. I really don't watch any other television regularly, but this is must-see T.V. for me. This probably means nothing to any or you reading this, but I am convinced that everyone that Hurley can see and talk to really isn't dead, but is caught in a time continuum. I know, I'm a nerd.
7. My mom is coming down to have some knee surgery done here at Mayo next week. I know it sounds awful, but I can't decide whether or not I should sit with her through the surgery. If you know the history of me and my mom, you'd understand.
8. I just inadvertently convinced someone in my bookclub that we need to read Twilight for next month. I'm praying that will be a good decision, as I have yet to finish it.
2. After reading the random notes my friend Brad put together, I have been longing for my childhood days in Duluth. All the same, I wish I could go back and relive some of those years. I had no idea how much I missed shut up into my own little world. I really wonder what my life would be like if I'd made more friends back then.
3. My new commitment to a healthy lifestyle has been a difficult one to keep, but a good one all the same. I am finding that a (virtually) sugar-free non-processed world is a place I want to live in. Just 10 days of this, and already I feel less stressed, less tired, and totally energetic. It really does work.
4. I wish I could say the same about my exercise regimen. Each day at the gym is a challenging one for me. This time last year, I was in top shape -- I ran a 10 minute mile without breaking a sweat, and would run a 5K every day. These days, I feel like a wounded animal hobbling along on the treadmill at a much slower speed. I took a short break around the holidays, but I'm baffled as to why my workouts are so poor these days.
5. Today, Belly told me that I "smelled like chicken." Minutes later, HerMajesty remarked that I "smelled like Honeydew tea." I guess if pressed, I prefer the latter.
6. I live for the show LOST. I really don't watch any other television regularly, but this is must-see T.V. for me. This probably means nothing to any or you reading this, but I am convinced that everyone that Hurley can see and talk to really isn't dead, but is caught in a time continuum. I know, I'm a nerd.
7. My mom is coming down to have some knee surgery done here at Mayo next week. I know it sounds awful, but I can't decide whether or not I should sit with her through the surgery. If you know the history of me and my mom, you'd understand.
8. I just inadvertently convinced someone in my bookclub that we need to read Twilight for next month. I'm praying that will be a good decision, as I have yet to finish it.
Tonight my mother-in-law sat next to me at swim lessons.
She arrived to watch the kids swim, then she planned to take Owen home with her so that he could spend the night at her house.
While we sat there, crammed next to each other in those awful plastic spooned out chairs, she chatted away about everything and nothing. She told me all about the big sale at TJMaxx, fawned over how adept Annika had become at the backstroke, and laughed as I told her about all of the cute things Owen and Alex had done throughout the week.
And the entire time, I couldn't help thinking to myself that this woman, smiling at everything I said, HATES me. She said as much to my husband just days after Christmas.
Like our relationship over the past 11 years, all of that was glossed over with a pat and smile. It was like I was never told that she resented me, that I was disrespectful.
I could barely stand it, but I love my husband, so I smiled and tried to be the better person.
A few minutes later when Kurt surfaced, fresh from his run on the treadmill, she announced that she had bought a new condominium in Minneapolis.
I should have been happy for her. Hell, I should have been ecstatic that the woman who professed such a dislike for me would be leaving.
I should have...but I wasn't. I excused myself and left to get the kids showered and dressed. For once, I was grateful for this duty and didn't ask Kurt to do it. By the time everyone was ready to go, she had left the building with Owen.
The drive home was a sad one. I wanted to ask Kurt a million questions -- what was the place like? When was she planning to move? -- but I remained silent, partly because I really couldn't ask those types of questions around the kids, but mainly because I didn't want to let on just how sad her news had made me.
The thing is, when she originally told us of her plans and the reasons behind the move, I was angry. No, I was more than angry. But more than anything, I was just really hurt.
It's no secret that I grew up in a family wrapped up in dysfunction. And it was that dysfunction that shaped me into the person I was -- determined and independent, distrustful and secretive.
It wasn't my choice to be that way. It was simply a matter of survival.
But when I met Kurt, and later his mom, those parts of me were slowly chipped away. I learned to trust and love him completely, and I felt the same way about his mother. In many ways, she was the mom that I'd never had, and being surrounded by a family felt like a dream.
Turns out is was, because his family is, in many ways, even more dysfunctional than my own.
Even so, her words cut me to the quick.
I now am convinced that my innate inability to trust others ultimately led to the demise of my relationship with Ellen.
So here we are, one big unhappy extended family pretending in public to be something that we will never be again.
Kurt is caught in the middle, my children will be devastated come March, and I?
I am wounded, and even more distrustful and secretive than ever.
She arrived to watch the kids swim, then she planned to take Owen home with her so that he could spend the night at her house.
While we sat there, crammed next to each other in those awful plastic spooned out chairs, she chatted away about everything and nothing. She told me all about the big sale at TJMaxx, fawned over how adept Annika had become at the backstroke, and laughed as I told her about all of the cute things Owen and Alex had done throughout the week.
And the entire time, I couldn't help thinking to myself that this woman, smiling at everything I said, HATES me. She said as much to my husband just days after Christmas.
Like our relationship over the past 11 years, all of that was glossed over with a pat and smile. It was like I was never told that she resented me, that I was disrespectful.
I could barely stand it, but I love my husband, so I smiled and tried to be the better person.
A few minutes later when Kurt surfaced, fresh from his run on the treadmill, she announced that she had bought a new condominium in Minneapolis.
I should have been happy for her. Hell, I should have been ecstatic that the woman who professed such a dislike for me would be leaving.
I should have...but I wasn't. I excused myself and left to get the kids showered and dressed. For once, I was grateful for this duty and didn't ask Kurt to do it. By the time everyone was ready to go, she had left the building with Owen.
The drive home was a sad one. I wanted to ask Kurt a million questions -- what was the place like? When was she planning to move? -- but I remained silent, partly because I really couldn't ask those types of questions around the kids, but mainly because I didn't want to let on just how sad her news had made me.
The thing is, when she originally told us of her plans and the reasons behind the move, I was angry. No, I was more than angry. But more than anything, I was just really hurt.
It's no secret that I grew up in a family wrapped up in dysfunction. And it was that dysfunction that shaped me into the person I was -- determined and independent, distrustful and secretive.
It wasn't my choice to be that way. It was simply a matter of survival.
But when I met Kurt, and later his mom, those parts of me were slowly chipped away. I learned to trust and love him completely, and I felt the same way about his mother. In many ways, she was the mom that I'd never had, and being surrounded by a family felt like a dream.
Turns out is was, because his family is, in many ways, even more dysfunctional than my own.
Even so, her words cut me to the quick.
I now am convinced that my innate inability to trust others ultimately led to the demise of my relationship with Ellen.
So here we are, one big unhappy extended family pretending in public to be something that we will never be again.
Kurt is caught in the middle, my children will be devastated come March, and I?
I am wounded, and even more distrustful and secretive than ever.
It's no secret that I do not like my birthday.
I like birthdays. I like planning the parties, thinking up creative ways to surprise Kurt with gifts, and the excitement in my kids' eyes when I greet them on their special day with a birhtday hug and kiss.
I love birthdays. I just don't like celebrating my own birthday.
I have always been this way. Even as a kid, I remember feeling quite melancholy while blowing out my candles and feeling little excitement when I thought about opening presents. I used to think that the celebration was just too darn close to the Christmas holiday and the last thing I needed was another toy or winter sweater.
These days, I attribute my sour birthday attitude the fact that it's January, which happens to be the coldest and darkest month of the year (or it feels like it anyhow!). It also doesn't help that I lose steam once the holidays end, which was the one thing that tended to keep me going during the snowy season.
I've also made it no secret that I've received some "doozies" when it comes to the birthday gifts. I love my husband with every inch of my heart, but I gotta be honest here -- when it comes to buying me gifts, he tends to miss the mark when it comes to the winner gift.
I've discussed it before at length in my blog, but just to give you an idea of what I'm talking about, I'll share a past present I received from him:
A "celebrity" phone call from Lou Ferrigno (a.k.a. The Hulk). He left a message on my answering machine in his hulky voice wishing me a happy birthday and letting me know that Kurt thought that he and I LOOKED A LOT ALIKE.
And yes, in case you're wondering, I did not appreciate this gift, and I still haven't let him live that one down.
But I digress. Nowadays I know that my aversion to my birthday has less to do with presents and cards and cake, and everything to do with the simple fact that I'm getting older.
I don't like celebrating the day I turn yet another year older, the day I'm one step closer to more gray hair, achy joints, and wrinkles.
And with all of this, I approached today, my 37th birthday, the way I have approached every birthday since I turned about 27. I despised it.
And as the day approached, things were not boding well for me.
It turned out that we were invited to an open house for a friend's son who recently graduated from college. Besides the fact that it was a 90 minute drive and was held in the middle of the day so we really couldn't plan anything else, we also found out that Kurt's ex-girlfriend would be there as well.
But suprisingly, the day was....dare I say it? It was enjoyable.
Kurt made me a delicious breakfast of eggs, toast, and hot chocolate. Before we all went to church together, I opened my gifts with the kids. I received such very thoughtful gifts, but the best part was watching how proud the kids were of the presents they had picked out for me. It was so nice to see their shining eyes and watch them barely contain their excitement as they fought over whose present would be opened first. Honestly, that was the best part of my day. Shortly after church, we headed up to the Twin Cities for that dreaded open house.
I must admit, that was pretty painless, save for the moment the hostess introduced my to said ex-girlfirend's parents. Can you say "uncomfortable"? And because I know I can write it here, I'll just say it. I felt more than a little smug that I know I've improved my appearance over the past 10 years, and I did notice her surprise when she saw me wearing pants that were 6 sizes smaller than she remembered. So just for that, it was worth it.
So overall, I'm glad I went, because even spending the majority of our day eating cold cuts and hobnobbing with people we didn't know was enjoyable.
I was just happy to spend my day with my family. That, in itself, was the best birthday gift I received.
And I can honestly say that it was waaaaay better than another call from Lou Ferrigno.
I like birthdays. I like planning the parties, thinking up creative ways to surprise Kurt with gifts, and the excitement in my kids' eyes when I greet them on their special day with a birhtday hug and kiss.
I love birthdays. I just don't like celebrating my own birthday.
I have always been this way. Even as a kid, I remember feeling quite melancholy while blowing out my candles and feeling little excitement when I thought about opening presents. I used to think that the celebration was just too darn close to the Christmas holiday and the last thing I needed was another toy or winter sweater.
These days, I attribute my sour birthday attitude the fact that it's January, which happens to be the coldest and darkest month of the year (or it feels like it anyhow!). It also doesn't help that I lose steam once the holidays end, which was the one thing that tended to keep me going during the snowy season.
I've also made it no secret that I've received some "doozies" when it comes to the birthday gifts. I love my husband with every inch of my heart, but I gotta be honest here -- when it comes to buying me gifts, he tends to miss the mark when it comes to the winner gift.
I've discussed it before at length in my blog, but just to give you an idea of what I'm talking about, I'll share a past present I received from him:
A "celebrity" phone call from Lou Ferrigno (a.k.a. The Hulk). He left a message on my answering machine in his hulky voice wishing me a happy birthday and letting me know that Kurt thought that he and I LOOKED A LOT ALIKE.
And yes, in case you're wondering, I did not appreciate this gift, and I still haven't let him live that one down.
But I digress. Nowadays I know that my aversion to my birthday has less to do with presents and cards and cake, and everything to do with the simple fact that I'm getting older.
I don't like celebrating the day I turn yet another year older, the day I'm one step closer to more gray hair, achy joints, and wrinkles.
And with all of this, I approached today, my 37th birthday, the way I have approached every birthday since I turned about 27. I despised it.
And as the day approached, things were not boding well for me.
It turned out that we were invited to an open house for a friend's son who recently graduated from college. Besides the fact that it was a 90 minute drive and was held in the middle of the day so we really couldn't plan anything else, we also found out that Kurt's ex-girlfriend would be there as well.
But suprisingly, the day was....dare I say it? It was enjoyable.
Kurt made me a delicious breakfast of eggs, toast, and hot chocolate. Before we all went to church together, I opened my gifts with the kids. I received such very thoughtful gifts, but the best part was watching how proud the kids were of the presents they had picked out for me. It was so nice to see their shining eyes and watch them barely contain their excitement as they fought over whose present would be opened first. Honestly, that was the best part of my day. Shortly after church, we headed up to the Twin Cities for that dreaded open house.
I must admit, that was pretty painless, save for the moment the hostess introduced my to said ex-girlfirend's parents. Can you say "uncomfortable"? And because I know I can write it here, I'll just say it. I felt more than a little smug that I know I've improved my appearance over the past 10 years, and I did notice her surprise when she saw me wearing pants that were 6 sizes smaller than she remembered. So just for that, it was worth it.
So overall, I'm glad I went, because even spending the majority of our day eating cold cuts and hobnobbing with people we didn't know was enjoyable.
I was just happy to spend my day with my family. That, in itself, was the best birthday gift I received.
And I can honestly say that it was waaaaay better than another call from Lou Ferrigno.
I think that this answers your question.
I took HerMajesty to the doctor this morning for her seven-year-old well check. It's basically a physical (height, weight, blood pressure, etc.) with general "let's see if your mom is a good parent" questions thrown in for good measure.
Anyhow, the appointment went something like this:
Doctor, smiling at HerMajesty before she turns to the sink to commence the requisite hand washing: So tell me, are you missing school today?
HerMajesty: Nope! I'm homeschooled.
She turns from the sink in surprise, and I notice a raised eyebrow: Really? Did you homeschool last year as well?
HerMajesty nods proudly.
She continues: So tell me HerMajesty, do you ever see other friends? Do you, say, go to Sunday School and see other kids?
HerMajesty looks from my face to hers.
Doctor, now clearly pressing the issue: Do you spend time with other children? Do you play with anyone besides just your brothers?
I am now seething inside, my eyes narrow with apprehension towards the doctor as I ponder where exactly she is heading with this line of questioning. I look at HerMajesty and paste a smile on my face, silently encouraging her to answer the questions. She tells her about our co-op, and her Sunday school class. I don't say anything, but I secretly want to shout out that she's VERY involved with other kids and want to list the Spanish class, ballet class, swim lessons, and the many general friends she sees on a regular basis.
The barrage of questions continued:
Do you have any responsibilites at home? I keep my room clean, I fold laundry, I clear my plate at the table.
What does that mean exactly? How do you clean your room? Umm...I make my bed, pick up my clothes....
(At this point, I am informed that until a child is 8 years old, they really cannot be responsible for really keeping their room clean. I nod, but inside I'm thinking HUH?)
Are you learning another language? Yes, I take a Spanish class.
What words can you tell me in Spanish? Ummm....Hola, Perrito.....
Do you know your colors in Spanish? She points to a picture on the wall. What colors are these? Azul y Amarillo.
I can tell that she is visibly surprised by that answer, but she continues on, attempting to, in my opinion, trip my daughter up.
Favorite fruits? Apples, watermelon, oranges....
Fruits you don't like? Bananas
Favorite vegetables? Broccoli, carrots, lettuce....
Vegetables you don't like? Squash and potatoes.
She spent the next few minutes reminding HerMajesty why it's important to try new foods (yawn!), then slapped us with a clean bill of health.
Before leaving, she asked HerMajesty if she had any more questions.
HerMajesty said, Yes, I do. How was your Christmas?
The doctor, again slightly surprised by my "non-social" homeschooled daughter, told her it was fine and thanked her for asking.
As we gathered our things and headed for the door, the doctor joked that at her next visit in two years I wouldn't need to come because HerMajesty was such a good historian.
I agreed with her, and patted my daughter proudly as we walked out.
And can I just say it? I felt a little smug too.
Anyhow, the appointment went something like this:
Doctor, smiling at HerMajesty before she turns to the sink to commence the requisite hand washing: So tell me, are you missing school today?
HerMajesty: Nope! I'm homeschooled.
She turns from the sink in surprise, and I notice a raised eyebrow: Really? Did you homeschool last year as well?
HerMajesty nods proudly.
She continues: So tell me HerMajesty, do you ever see other friends? Do you, say, go to Sunday School and see other kids?
HerMajesty looks from my face to hers.
Doctor, now clearly pressing the issue: Do you spend time with other children? Do you play with anyone besides just your brothers?
I am now seething inside, my eyes narrow with apprehension towards the doctor as I ponder where exactly she is heading with this line of questioning. I look at HerMajesty and paste a smile on my face, silently encouraging her to answer the questions. She tells her about our co-op, and her Sunday school class. I don't say anything, but I secretly want to shout out that she's VERY involved with other kids and want to list the Spanish class, ballet class, swim lessons, and the many general friends she sees on a regular basis.
The barrage of questions continued:
Do you have any responsibilites at home? I keep my room clean, I fold laundry, I clear my plate at the table.
What does that mean exactly? How do you clean your room? Umm...I make my bed, pick up my clothes....
(At this point, I am informed that until a child is 8 years old, they really cannot be responsible for really keeping their room clean. I nod, but inside I'm thinking HUH?)
Are you learning another language? Yes, I take a Spanish class.
What words can you tell me in Spanish? Ummm....Hola, Perrito.....
Do you know your colors in Spanish? She points to a picture on the wall. What colors are these? Azul y Amarillo.
I can tell that she is visibly surprised by that answer, but she continues on, attempting to, in my opinion, trip my daughter up.
Favorite fruits? Apples, watermelon, oranges....
Fruits you don't like? Bananas
Favorite vegetables? Broccoli, carrots, lettuce....
Vegetables you don't like? Squash and potatoes.
She spent the next few minutes reminding HerMajesty why it's important to try new foods (yawn!), then slapped us with a clean bill of health.
Before leaving, she asked HerMajesty if she had any more questions.
HerMajesty said, Yes, I do. How was your Christmas?
The doctor, again slightly surprised by my "non-social" homeschooled daughter, told her it was fine and thanked her for asking.
As we gathered our things and headed for the door, the doctor joked that at her next visit in two years I wouldn't need to come because HerMajesty was such a good historian.
I agreed with her, and patted my daughter proudly as we walked out.
And can I just say it? I felt a little smug too.
(editor's note: my apologies in advance for the rambling nature of this post).
It started out innocently enough.
I woke up at the normal time (7:15 a.m.). Two of my three kids were snuggled up next to me, and the dog was crawling on top of my pillow and sniffing my forehead.
Like I said, normal morning.
About the only thing that was different was that this morning, the thermostat read a chilly -16.6 degrees outside.
Eventually, as the day wore on, the temperature climbed, although we never did hit zero. Unfortunately, the state of my day continued to spiral downward.
Homeschooling went poorly today. Our geography lesson today was a disaster. I ended up getting frustrated, Annika started crying, and I felt like a complete failure, both as a mother and teacher.
So that was fun.
But really, other than making my daughter cry tears of shame over not being able to correctly identify the continents, I don't really know why today was so incredibly crappy.
All I know is that I just haven't been me lately. Little things that normally don't bother me did for some reason today.
I found myself noticing how very cluttered and small my house seems, and how every room seemed to be in dire need of a deep cleaning.
And throughout most of the day, I was extremely irritated by my kids' behavior today. Belly couldn't seem to keep his hands off of anyone and needed to be reminded of this no less than 30 times today. HerMajesty acted more bossy today than normal and would scream "STOP IT" at the top of her lungs every time she felt slightly wronged by someone. And Squeaky? Well, Squeaky was just...Squeaky. And as difficult as it is to believe, even him doing nothing out of the ordinary irritated me.
Throughout the day, I questioned these feelings. Did the kids simply suffer from cabin fever? Did Hermjasty's reprimands sting because they sounded surprisingly like my own? Or was it something more?
Whatever the case, I was irritated...but only at myself.
And to top it all off, I have really let myself go since the holidays. Too many Christmas cookies coupled with a 3 week vacation from the YMCA has taken its toll on my body.
This, friends, is not good. Not good at all.
I worked for over a year to get into shape, and today I found myself falling back into old habits.
And I don't know how to stop.
Even tonight, when I dragged myself to the Y for some good old fashioned cardio, I didn't feel energized. I just felt bad at how far I had fallen and how out of shape I'd become. I have a long road ahead of me, and I'm not so sure I'm gonna make it this time.
Of course, it doesn't help that I'm supposed to attend a graduation open house for a friend's son on Sunday. That happens to be my 37th birthday, by the way. (FYI: Historically, I have bad birthdays; hence, I hate my birthday). And that's fine, except after I told my friend that Arf and I would attend, she casually mentioned that Arf's ex-girlfriend would also be attending.
The ex-girlfriend that Arf broke up with because he wanted to date me.
The ex-girlfriend who blames me solely for the breakup.
The ex-girlfriend who once called my answering machine 9 TIMES in a row (the last message, by the way, was so loud and angry it was actually incoherent).
The ex-girlfriend who, when she broke up with Kurt, reminded him that I was "bigger" than she was.
And on Sunday, we get to all meet. Just one big happy reunion.
I know it's been 11 years. I know that we've all moved on. And I know that for as bad as I feel about myself right now, I should still feel proud of the person I have become.
But I still don't want to go.
I just want to be happy.
In observance of the national holiday we like to call HerMajesty's 7th birthday, we all decided to visit Minneapolis this weekend. It was a fun little getaway, but both Arf and I agreed that it was weekend we loved AND hated.
We started our trip at the Mall of America. We shopped early on Friday morning so it was fairly empty and we had the run of the place. The kids especially enjoyed playing at LegoLand, and because it wasn't overrun with kids, the choices were endless when it came to creating the ultimate racing machine. Here Belly poses with what I like to call "The Lego Semi."
What we DID NOT like was the constant begging for every craptastic toy and gimmick that the mall sold. I'm not exaggerating when I state that Squeaky cried for 10 minutes because we refused to give him $12 to buy a fake hamster that rolled around in a plastic ball.
The waterpark was fantastic. This was the view from our room, which was only slightly obstructed by some sort of large tube.
It was huge, and when I say "huge," I mean that it had no less than 4 waterslides, a lazy river, and this wave pool that allowed people to body surf on it.
This blurry image is Arf body surfing. Shortly after it was shot, he totally wiped out.
We started our trip at the Mall of America. We shopped early on Friday morning so it was fairly empty and we had the run of the place. The kids especially enjoyed playing at LegoLand, and because it wasn't overrun with kids, the choices were endless when it came to creating the ultimate racing machine. Here Belly poses with what I like to call "The Lego Semi."
What we DID NOT like was the constant begging for every craptastic toy and gimmick that the mall sold. I'm not exaggerating when I state that Squeaky cried for 10 minutes because we refused to give him $12 to buy a fake hamster that rolled around in a plastic ball.
The waterpark was fantastic. This was the view from our room, which was only slightly obstructed by some sort of large tube.
It was huge, and when I say "huge," I mean that it had no less than 4 waterslides, a lazy river, and this wave pool that allowed people to body surf on it.
This blurry image is Arf body surfing. Shortly after it was shot, he totally wiped out.
Belly found that very funny (the wiping out part that is).
Speaking of wasting money....
I spotted this on the way home. It's a truck with a customized airbrush painting of the same exact truck on it's rear door. Now I could understand if you REALLY liked your truck, and paid someone to paint a picture of it so that you could hang it on the wall in your office at work or something. But to pay someone to paint a picture of your truck ON your truck?
Well, that's just weird.
Like I said, the waterpark was very cool. What we did NOT like was that the kids really had no interest in actually using most of it. They loved the lazy river, but that's about it. We had to bribe HerMajesty to try the family tube slide, and after going down once she refused to do it again. Nope. Their favorite part of the park was your run-of-the-mill pool, where they cannon-balled and demonstrated their skills at blowing bubbles in the water. And that was great, really it was. But when we were paying $24.95 per ticket, it sort of stung that none of them even wanted to play in this cool kiddie area, where the large barrel at the top would fill up and dump sheets of water every couple of minutes onto the unsuspecting children playing there.
The room was really nice too. I wish I would have remembered to shoot a photo before we messed it up, but here it is anyhow. The hotel is obviously family-friendly, and the kids loved the built-in bunkbeds. We did NOT appreciate the lack of cleanliness in the room. Let's just housekeeping needs to check the bunkbeds next time, and leave it at that. We did end up changing rooms, and the new room was much better.
The room was really nice too. I wish I would have remembered to shoot a photo before we messed it up, but here it is anyhow. The hotel is obviously family-friendly, and the kids loved the built-in bunkbeds. We did NOT appreciate the lack of cleanliness in the room. Let's just housekeeping needs to check the bunkbeds next time, and leave it at that. We did end up changing rooms, and the new room was much better.
Our favorite meal out was at a restaurant Arf and I used to visit when we dated. It's called "The Great Wall" in St. Louis Park, and it has the best sesame chicken you will ever eat. The kids even liked it, and that's saying a lot, since all three of them tend to gravitate towards the chicken fingers/mac-n-cheese options on the menu.
We did NOT like eating out at every meal. More than once this weekend, I wondered how families afford weekends such as this. Seriously. If we ate out like this all of the time, we would have to take a second mortgage out on our house. It was definitely a luxury.
We did NOT like eating out at every meal. More than once this weekend, I wondered how families afford weekends such as this. Seriously. If we ate out like this all of the time, we would have to take a second mortgage out on our house. It was definitely a luxury.
Speaking of wasting money....
Well, that's just weird.
Imagine my surprise when I saw that he had music on ITunes, has created music for videos and documentaries, and wrote this song.
Very cool.
Very cool.
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