Ode to a Blue Hooded Sweatshirt.

There once was a hoodie of blue
That loved me back when it was new.
The sleeves kept me warm
And the hood kept me dry
And hoodies just like it were few.

But now after years of it’s wear
The sleeves, yes, have started to tear.
With stains on the cuffs
And 2 holes in the front
And a hood that is just barely there.

So last night Steve told me
The sweatshirt was through.
No more broken zipper
No more hoodie blue.

So sadly I toss it
Right now in the trash
I miss it already
But can’t get it back.

So laugh if you want to
I’ll try not to cry
And here’s to my hoodie, “Goodbye.”

Confessions of a Germaphobe

If the first step to overcoming a problem is admitting it, then here I go. At some point over the past 2 years, I have become the person who uses hand sanitizer after passing the offering plate at church. My heart races when I am forced to touch a bathroom doorknob. I can’t remember the last time I flushed a public toilet with anything other than my foot. I am realizing I need to reach some kind of balance. I need to make amends with millions of micro-bacteria and learn to exist in harmony with them.
I have noticed there are not degrees of germaphobia.. You either care about germs, or you don’t. You either wipe down shopping cart handles before you touch them, you use your sleeve to open bathroom doors, you bathe your child in Purell after a visit to the park, you feel slightly grossed out after touching keys or cell phones, or you don’t. I am gradually working my way back from the extreme end of the “icky” spectrum.
Ever since I had Griffin, my fear of the germs that might be hiding out on nursery toys, other people’s drinks or the worst–strange people’s hands–has caused me to have miniature internal panick attacks almost daily. Last month I was at the Pediatrician’s office with Griffin, Madelyn in her 30+ pound carrier, and a diaper bag, and I felt like I was running the gauntlet trying to open 4 doors and use nasty doctor’s office pens in a sanitary way while also keeping the kids in check and trying to look like I was a sane member of society. It was shortly after that visit when I realized I needed to relax a little.
Steve thinks I am ridiculous when it comes to germs, and I am slowly beginning to agree. In his attempts to “cure” me he likes to take Griffin to McDonald’s playland–the ultimate cesspool for any germaphobe. Of course Griffin loves it, and so far he hasn’t picked up E coli, so I am beginning to realize it IS my problem. I don’t think Laura Ingalls Wilder used hand sanitizer after she did her morning chores.
I know that colds and even the flu are all part of “building a strong immune system,” or so they say. I know when my kids get older and I have even less control over them they will eat things off lunchroom floors and share drinks with friends and we will all go through the cold and flu season together every fall. The most baffling thing is that my kids still manage to pick up colds and in doing so they are some other germaphobe’s worst nightmare. Obviously I can’t be there to wipe them off every time they touch something nasty and I don’t want them rolling around in a little germ-proof bubble. Deep down I know these germs serve a purpose. Like I said, this is a confession and I am trying to form some kind of alliance with them. Until then, please don't feel the need to confiscate the hand sanitizer I carry around my waist in a holster like a weapon...

Sky Top Orchard

In an effort to begin a few annual family traditions, we loaded up the car and headed to the foothills to pick a few apples from Sky Top Orchard in North Carolina. Although Griffin is in the middle of potty training, there were no apples left on any of the trees due to a late frost and it was so foggy you could barely see 20 feet in front of your face, we still had a really great time. Griffin loved the pumpkins and spent about 20 minutes lifting, turning and finally choosing the perfect pumpkin. He also had fun on the swings and walking around the apple trees.

Fall Thoughts

It’s 5pm on a Wednesday in the middle of September and I’m sitting on the squeaky swing in our backyard. I am pushing my sleepy 6 month old in her swing, watching Griffin blow drippy bubbles over the pine needles, and listening to Steve as he mows away the last remnants of a very long, very dry summer. I’m thinking Fall might finally be near.
Although I should probably be thinking about what to make for supper, or the pile of unfolded laundry on my bed, or the dishwasher full of clean dishes, I decided to take out an old notebook and a cheap pen to try to remember how to do something that used to come very naturally. Writing.
When I was in college I was constantly grasping for subject matter to fulfill my never-ending writing assignments; now I find that I have a continual supply of subject matter, but no time to write it down. Writing, like any other form of art, requires discipline, and like any other artist, it’s hard for me to discipline without a deadline.
I sometimes wonder if baby baths and new teeth and new words–both good and bad–are as important as some of the other things going on in the “real world” outside of my own 2.5 acres. It’s almost impossible not to get lost in these things when I am consumed by them for 15 hours a day. Almost as impossible as it is to keep your own mouth closed while feeding the baby peas or squash from a tiny spoon.
For better or worse, I’m realizing that at this point in my life, the most important thing I can do is attempt to fill the needs of those who are dependant on me. There are really only a few short– extremely short– years where my kids will want to be held, want to read a book with me, or want to go outside and play in the yard. I’m trying not to set the bar impossibly high for myself, but I don’t want to disappoint them either.
The other day I was driving in the Camry with 2 kids in carseats when the lady in front of me slammed on her breaks and swerved suddenly to avoid hitting a squirrel. I missed her back bumper by a few feet and as we both resumed our course I caught her relieved smile in the rearview mirror. I smiled back, for some reason, both glad that we hadn’t wrecked, but also happy that somewhere a little squirrel had safely made his way back to a tree somewhere in the nearby woods. It was a few miles down the road before I remembered how much I hate squirrels. I don’t know why I had been so glad to have another squirrel running around except that it is one of those instinctive feelings that you can’t control. Nobody wants to be charged with vehicular squirrel slaughter.
The tale of the squirrel (ha ha) is obviously not a perfect illustration. However, I’m hoping some of the motherly instincts God has implanted in me are going to continue kicking in as long as I have cuts to bandage and hard questions to answer. On evenings like this, while smelling the grass and pushing a swing, it’s hard to believe there isn’t some peace and contentment in my life right now.

Mom Hood

Because I am either too tired or too lazy to properly keep a journal, and because some things must be written when then happen otherwise they will be forgotten in the days that seem to be running together in my life right now, here is a little appetizer for those who aren't moms, and an "I've been there before" for the rest of you.
This morning we were up earlier than normal with a mission to see dear Sarah and her family for brunch. (we love you Sarah!) Everything went really well and we had a great time with friends. All the kids involved in the outing behaved really well and with only one dirty diaper, 4 matchbox cars, one cup of juice, one pack of "Yo-Go's" and one trip to see the fountain at Panera, we were back in carseats and back on our way home.
I had been up early getting myself and the car ready for this adventure, so I was tired and very ready for both kids to take a nice long nap after lunch. We finished lunch at home and I gave Griffin some cold medicine and put him to bed. Madelyn was still wide awake since she had slept in the car, so I played with her for 45 minutes. I put her down around 3pm...sigh. I was very ready to do a few motherly things and then hopefully try to rest before they were both back up again.
I decided before my nap I needed to make some homemade applesauce with the apples I had in the fridge because I didn't want them to go bad, I had been putting it off for a week, and Maddy really needed the applesauce for supper. I didn't think it would take long. Has anyone ever peeled a bag of apples? It took longer than I thought.
So, I was in the kitchen peeling and slicing an entire bag of apples, enjoying my new OTR CD and smelling the cooking apples.. really savoring a few minutes of adult time when I heard Griffin screaming from his room--it wasn't even 3:30 yet.
I ran back there and was trying to keep the screaming to a minimum so he wouldn't wake Maddy up, but when I got to the bed I saw something I hope I will never see again. Griffin had managed to remove his diaper and was literally in a pool of pee on his bed. Everything was completely soaked, amd he had snot streaming down his face. It was one of those moments; I was trying to comfort him, calm him, change the sheets, change him, and also let him know that he had done a very bad thing all at once. In the meantime my apples were boiling away in the kitchen.
I'll spare the remaining graphic details, but he was too traumatized to go back to sleep, my 25 minutes of apple-cooking labor only yeilded about 12 servings of baby-sauce, and I still haven't had the rest I have been needing since lunch. So, why am I staying up typing this on facebook now? you may ask. Because if I don't record a few of these "precious" moments when they happen, it will be just another day in the mom hood.

The 4th of July.

Every year we go to Steve's parent's house for a cookout. It was a little different this year with 4 kids under the age of 2 running around, but it was still a lot of fun getting together with family. Griffin and Eliza always have fun playing together no matter what they are doing, and it's hard to believe that it another year Isaac and Madelyn will be running around playing with them. Madelyn is already 4 months old and time seems to be flying by a lot faster this time around.

Drummer Boy

Griffin has always been into rhythm and music, so it is no surprise that he has discovered the joys of pot and pan drumming. I try to put his "drums" away every day, but at some point he will ask for them and we end up dragging everything back out...inevitably it is usually when I'm trying to put Maddy down for a nap. Griffin has really started using his imagination more and it is fun to watch him create and invent new games on his own.