Why did both of them have to get sick for us to have a nice day together?

That is the question B.J. asked me as we were cleaning up the kitchen this evening.

I don't know. Why is it that once both of our little monkeys are with the sniffles that we have a nice family afternoon together? Maybe it is because they've both slowed down enough to leave 'warp drive.' Maybe it is because, praise the Lord, we had an entire day free of sibling squabbles and rivalry. Maybe we'll never actually know.

We really did have a nice afternoon today. We decided that since it was so rainy and ugly outside today that there were two options open to us: 1) lay around the house all day like slugs, watching DVDs (for the millionth time), or 2) load up the family in the mommy-mobile, spend some of the money burning a hole in our pockets up at IKEA.

We chose option 2.

On the drive up the kids snoozed and/or spaced out. It was quite nice as it allowed us a modicum of peace and quiet that we usually do not get to enjoy on family car trips. The drive would have been really nice if I hadn't been white-knuckling the arm rest all the way to the store. When it rains and pours (as it often does in this state) and the traffic doesn't slow down and there's oh, say, less than 2 car-lengths between the cars--and very poor visibility--I turn into a nervous wreck. I worry (with what possible change to life's outcomes, I don't know) endlessly that there will be a massive pile-up of cars on the interstate. It is fruitless for me to do so, but I suppose it is a little Post-traumatic stress left over from a really bad car-wreck I was in when I was about 18 (it was a 3 car pile-up).

While we were at IKEA the kids were fantastic. They stuck with us, followed directions, ate their lunch without any screaming, throwing of food, or planning a massive coup d'état. I call that a successful trip. Although we did not have any luck finding the right measurements for wooden mini-blinds (dang! that means it will be at least $100 per window...and I have how many windows in my house? 1...2...5....7....) we did find some really neat little gadgets and storage devices.

Once home, the peace continued. After checking my vital stats more than once to see if I had passed to the hereafter, we managed another beautifully orchestrated and peaceful meal. The chubber was too tired to keep his little eyelids open, and passed out in my arms on the couch post-meal.

This left us open to make some pumpkin bread (thanks for the inspiration from Martin Bliss). Generally Chublet is my co-conspirator in gustatory experimentation, but tonight Peanutzilla wanted to help out. Normally, Peanut attempting to be my helper in the kitchen results in a melt-down (hers and mine) because impulse control and the ability to follow simple directions are more difficult that you could imagine. But, tonight the good vibe of the afternoon followed with us. Peanut was compliant, helpful, cheery, and we had fun measuring, dumping, and mixing the dough. Not a temper-tantrum or melt-down to be seen.

I just love when we have good days. They truly are so far and few between for our family. Usually Peanut and Chubb-chubb like to 'tag-team' with the naughty behavior. Once one is subdued the other jumps in with 'round 2' of bad behavior. Today, it wasn't the case. It makes me wonder if this is what an average middle-of-the-road family experiences on a somewhat frequent basis. I hope so.

What a lovely day. Perhaps sickness is underrated? I hate to think today was as good as it was due to both of them having a cold...

I'll just savor the memory of this afternoon, and hold tight to it for those days that are more frequent in this household, the days where mommy is red in the face and the monkeys are swinging from the proverbial chandelier.

Cake Decorating & Other Forms of Torture

I'm becoming so domestic these days.

Times were, many moons ago, that I was a young independent woman who worked a simple little job and lived alone in her own house, and rarely touched a pot or pan. In fact, my friends from 'once upon a time' used to complain when they came over and tried to raid the 'fridge only to find no real food to speak of. I had been accused of having a 'bachelor's refrigerator' and I'd heard many refrains of: 'you have every condiment known to human kind in here but no food. That's messed-up!" (One of my co-workers, if she reads this, is going to throw up at that particular phrase--sorry! Just tellin' it like it is)

These days, I often cook. In fact, some months I cook nearly every night except "left-overs" night. Don't get confused, I still have those weeks where I still have every condiment known to human kind and no food, and well, we simply go out to eat. Yes. It is expensive, wasteful, and causes my waistline to creep further and further out latitudinally. However, for the most part, I cook. Healthy-ish meals, from scratch. I hate boxed 'convenience' food--it all tastes the same to me (bad) and let's face it, anything with a 3 year shelf-life shouldn't go into our bodies (note: I conveniently forget this piece of rhetoric as I order our dinner at the golden arches.)

So, along the lines of my newly donned domesticity, I have decided to take a cake decorating class with my friend, J. J. and I go out for walks on average of 2x a week. We're getting in shape--something other than round, preferably. And on one of our walks J. asked me if I'd be interested. Sure. Why not? Sounds fun. So I have officially signed up and attended my first Wilton Cake Decorating I class.

The tuition was $30.00. Not bad. Especially compared to some of my Grad School classes. On the syllabus it says that an additional $25-50 dollars in supplies may be needed. No biggie. Well, after the first class I purchased the 'essentials' and to date my total investment (not including gas for transportation) is around $90.00. Pretty spendy for a hobby. Or, I'm just a cheap-o.


The first class was great. Friendly people (around 15 of us in all), and a nice instructor. The instructor made everything look like, well, a piece of cake. At the end of the class she gave us our supply list, and our first assignment: bake a cake, frost it using the recipe for butter creme frosting Wilton requires, and bring in frosting for decoration in a differing color than what you use to frost the cake. Easy, right? Well, this is me we're talking about. Heh heh heh.

So, comes the day after class. I'm bored and decided to root around to find all the ingredients I need to make butter creme frosting. Turns out, I have it all on hand, and the Peanut and I whip up a batch of the icing. Super fast, really easy, everything is cleaned up and taken care of in 10 minutes. My kind of project. However, I tried to make blue (we're going to make a 'Rainbow cake' at our second class), since I liked how the blue looked in the demo. picture. I found out that if you use 'butter' flavored Crisco (hint: it is yellow-Hell-o!!) what would have been blue icing is actually...you're gonna love this...preschoolers know how to use the color wheel...GREEN!!! Hahahah. Moral of the story? Use white Crisco, that is unless, you like actually want to have off-colored icing. Anyway, I figured I'd still be able to work with my green-not-blue-icing. I'm resourceful, like that.

Now, today (Friday), I'm stressed because the nearly-two-year-old is being fussy and doesn't want to cooperate (will he ever want to cooperate, at any time during the rest of his life? Magic 8 Ball says: Signs point to no.) so I decided we all need a project to entertain us. We'll bake a cake! I thumbed through my 1940's era McCall's Cookbook (only the world's best cookbook, ever. It was my mom's, so I'm very sentimental about it) looking for a good cake recipe. There's a bunch of them, too bad I was feeling lazy. I stuck a post-it note in the cookbook, and proceeded to get out a red-velvet cake mix (the box kind, yes, I know I'm totally contradicting myself, here) and we slap that together, and bake it.

At class the teacher said that we could use a box cake-mix, but it would be harder to frost because of the crumbs. The teacher is right, box cakes make LOTS of crumbs. Frosting a cake using the decorating tools the right way is much harder than it looks. I did my best to frost my cake. That doesn't mean I'm gonna take home a blue ribbon at the county fair.

I'm glad I 'practiced' tonight. I'd hate to have brought my FUGLY green frosting red-carpet-cake with red crumbs in the frosting lopsided cake to class. How embarrassing! But, it was a good learning experience.

Peanut will wake up tomorrow and see a hideous crumbs-in-the-green-should-be-blue-icing and she will squeal with joy, because, this cake will be her 'birthday' cake that she's been asking for since Thursday, when we made the icing. So, even though it is ugly, and not at all professional looking, it is worth it because I know it will make a certain 4 year-old some one's day.

Once I finished admiring my abstract art and thinking of how much Peanut will like it I was really good. I cleaned up my mess right away, rather than wait until the morning and hope the magic husband fairy would come along and clean it up (never happens, but I can hope, right?). Holy cow! Butter creme frosting is a pain to clean; in fact, it is just plain icky. Let's just say, if you ever want to stop eating sweets, make a batch of butter creme icing, wash your utensils by hand, and look at the residue left in the sink. I now know exactly what the insides of my thighs look like--it ain't pretty. Yech!!! A good thing, though, 'cuz now I won't eat frosting.

Sunriver

Well, here I am, at last, with time to write about our little holiday in the mountains. In a nutshell: we had a blast, and we definitely got the most 'bang for our buck.' We were up in Sunriver from Friday through Wednesday--our first real 'vacation' since Chubbers was born.

Our Holiday week started out on a funky note. But, then, when you're talking about me, would it start out any other way? We had hoped B.J. would luck out and get Thursday, July 5Th off, so that we could head up on the Fourth of July--but no such luck. Ya win some, you lose some, and with that we packed up the van on Thursday evening/Friday morning and were about ready to head out of the driveway (quite literally, we were all buckled in, engine running) and B.J. gets a call on his cell phone.


'Oh crap.' I thought to myself. Something has come up--the house caught fire, the roads were washed out, lemmings are falling from the sky (hey, when I panic, I do it up right). Nothing so dramatic as all that, thankfully. Just an hour and a half detour added to our drive to swing by the in-laws house and pick up the accidentally forgotten pool passes for our vacation (they were going to be dropped off at the Sunriver house...but life got in the way). No biggie. There's a reason why I have a built-in DVD player in my van--PARENTAL SANITY!

En route to getting the passes in Eugene, my meticulously mapped out Letterboxing (click the link, and it will fill you in--yes, I keep saying I'll write a blog, I've been too lazy so far...) route got all messed up--as in the stops were off of HWY 20/22 and we would be driving up HWY 58 to get to our destination. I decide this won't work, and, besides, after my raspberry mocha from the Evil Empire I had to pee, and thus the Peanut and I detoured to the U. of O. to a) go pee, and b) print out a new letterboxing agenda that worked with HWY 58. (Yes, indeed, I am insanely obsessed with my hobby.).

It was interesting to see the changes at my Alma Mater. It has been a total of 7 years since I received my B.A., and 5 years since my Master's degree. The exterior of the university hasn't much changed, but I noticed subtle interior changes; changes that made me feel old. That surely sucked. I had to ask the librarian for help (how on earth do you print out stuff anymore...?). But, with a little patience we were 'good to go.' With new letterboxing agenda and little Peanut in hand, we walked across campus, met B.J. outside of MacArthur Court, and yo-ho-ho and away we go.

The drive is beautiful, and we've forgotten how green and lush the vegetation is on the way up to Willamette Pass. It had been a full 4 years since we had driven to Sunriver via 58. Time flies when you're having babies.


We stop in LaPine to do a little letterboxing/hiking. It is good for the kiddos (and us) to stretch and move around; we reach our box and are rewarded with views like this: The view of the Deschutes river from the hidden letterbox location at "Big Tree" (incidentally, a 1,000 foot tall ponderosa pine tree--'big tree' as a site name seemed a trifle understated).



When we make it to Sunriver we immediately dump off our stuff and head to the pool. It is hotter than a frying pan, and we're all hot, dusty, tired, and in serious need of some refreshing. The pool definitely does the trick. In fact, we spend every afternoon for each day of our holiday at either the North or South pool--miraculously (and thanks to a neurotic sunblock-a-holic) nobody but B.J. (who refuses to wear sunblock) gets burned. Yippee! I have accomplished my personal goal of no sun burnt babies and very little tan lines. I just love the new continuous spray sunblocks--I can even get my own back with them, and they dry almost instantly. (Yes, this is me in my swimsuit from hell.)


We did a lot of walking around in Sunriver, but the majority of our walking around and hiking came in the form of letterboxing. This is the insane (and utterly fun) letterboxing itinerary we followed: Pilot Butte--I just love this picture I took of of Peanut and Chub-chub on the top of the butte:


Peanut climbed up on the post all by herself, with no prompting from me, and as you can see Chubbers is in the dirt--something that would be repeated again, and again, during this trip, prompting us to nickname Chubbers "Pigpen" in honor of the chronically filthy Peanuts character.

We also went to sites at: Shevlin Park Covered Bridge (in Tumalo); Sawyer Park: #1 (couldn't find box 2 or 3--very frustrating); Hollinshead Park; Widgi Creek (next-door to the Seventh Mountain Resort) and Cascade Lakes Scenic Byway.


Another box we found was called Quacker Backer Central Oregon Where I waited with the kiddos in the van since it was out in the brush (we're talking no paved roads, here) and not developmentally appropriate for a 1.5 year old and a 4 year old to tag-along. While waiting I got out of the van periodically to look to see if B.J. had headed back yet (he was far enough out I couldn't see or hear him) and in the process, brain-trust that I can be, [I am not thinking of wild animals out here] I startle and in turn am startled by an 800lb. ELK! I about peed my pants (I had to go already and was doin' the dance) with fright.


It was at that point I, after I recovered my wits, I began looking at the various animal tracks in the dust and mud where we were, and only then did I notice the abundance of Elk and Deer tracks (cool) and (gulp) Lynx tracks! I could hardly wait for B.J. to get back--all the while having visions of him being mauled violently after unknowingly startling a sleeping wild cat while looking for a letterbox. In the end, no harm, no foul. It turned out to be a really cool and really, really, remotely placed stamp.


We had several other 'attempted' letterboxes--boxes we tried to locate but later found out I missed finding one by 5' (grrr! how frustrating) and also finding out a number of the boxes were missing (double grrr! it would be nice if the box owners would take the 'clue' out of circulation if they aren't available!!).


One of our adventures that resulted from chasing down a missing box was visiting the Lava Cast Forest. When we embarked on this journey, we didn't realize that it involved going off-road to get to the hike. Off-road. In. A. Mini-van. (secretly, I think that this was so totally exciting!). If I still had had my Explorer, going off-road, down dirt trails, over curbs, through small rivers--no big deal. But, this was in a van. Pretty gutsy. The picture doesn't look too bad, but just imagine an old-time aluminum wash board. Yep, you know the kind. Now, apply that zig-zag pattern, horizontally with 3-4" grooves to the road. For NINE miles. Then you have an idea. The kids had a blast. Little kids love to go "uhhhhh" (a monotonous tone with the voice) when going over a few bumps in suburbia, well, they had the time of their lives going 'uhhhh' for 9 miles each way. B.J. and I laughed so hard. Where is Bill Cosby, when you want him? We ended up not finding the box (the author informed me it was missing) but the sites, and geology we learned about was worth it--me being the dyed-in-the-wool-geek that I am, I just ate it up. (I'm going to ROCK! at Jeopardy! some day, all because I went to the Lava Cast Forest). We saw where the Lava flow had gone around the trunks of trees and, miraculously made 'casts' of the trees. Pretty cool beans.


We also went on a wild goose chase at Newberry National Volcanic Monument. It was o.k. though, because, again (me being a geek) we learned a ton about our local geology, and got in a couple of cool hikes (Big Obsidian Flow & Newberry Crater). The views were spectacular.



We spent the entire week together, as a family. It was fun, relaxing, and a good way for all of us to connect. However, like all good things, this too, had to come to an end.

We (B.J. and I) have been coming up to Sunriver together for the past 11 years (B.J. has been coming since he was 4 or 5 years old). We have shared a lot of good times together at the Sunriver house, we've grown, changed, and learned a lot. So, it was with bittersweet tears that we said goodbye this time. This visit was our last visit, ever, to this house. The family has decided that the house has served its purpose and it is time to move on. And thus has ended another chapter in our lives together: Goodbye Sunriver.










We made the most of it, and it was a good run.

Singles

After my last post, this one is a bit more light-hearted. *sighs of relief* Sometimes It is so cathartic to whine about something, get it out, and then move on. Anyhow...

B.J. and I got to experience life in the single lane. The single lane, you ask? Well, I'll tell ya--life sans fils for a whole weekend (right about here, you should be hearing the Hallelujah Chorus).

Yes. That's right. We spent an entire weekend ALONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Holy cow, Batman, would someone knock me upside the head with a Louisville Slugger to see if I'm dreaming?

A little background: (cue the violins) We have not had an entire weekend to ourselves in approximately 4 years, 2 months, 7 days and some hours, but who's counting? With the introduction of my beautiful little girl into our lives, we ceased to be a duo, and (duh) became a trio. Great, you say. Congratulations. You had a baby, feel special yet? Well, yes. We love having kids. I cannot imagine my life without them. However, every once in a while they get on ma' nerves. I did get a 'two day break' (thanks to B.J.'s aunt for watching the Peanut) when I gave birth to the Chublet--however I don't really count natural childbirth as a vacation. If you do, then I thoroughly recommend you see some sort of mental health professional because, clearly, your mind is warped or you're having a permanent acid-trip back flash. Seek help.

So, to continue on with our sob story, most folks have relatives who take their kids off of their hands once in a while (I have a dear friend who gets a week off from kids every couple of months, I love her, yet if pygmies attacked her and began to violently stab her with their tiny little spears I might hesitate jumping in to save her...just kidding. I'm happy she gets a break. I live vicariously through her). We would likely have said relatives, but we are, sadly, without grandmothers. Everyone knows grandmas are the ones who really love to take on the kids and spoil them utterly rotten and send the steaming carcasses of your children back to you acting like the wild children of Borneo (revenge, I gather?). But, not in our cases. Ma, why'd you have to go and meet our maker so soon?

Back to the present.

We had a whole weekend.

Alone.

For a short time I ran around in circles, blindly bumping into walls like a demented chicken with her head cut off.

I didn't quite know what to do with myself. B.J. with his zen-like demeanor calmed me down and suggested we go to a movie. A night time movie. So, we did. Just. Like. That. (scratching my head here, that is what we used to do all the time, if I remember correctly) We saw Pirates of the Caribbean: World's End [on a side note, Johnny Depp is just so beautiful]. Then, we went out for tapas and soda (If I'd had a beer I would have fallen asleep at the table-lame, I know. But, I don't generally stay up past 10:30pm on a late night). We sat there and ate our food in a leisurely manner. Talked quietly. Did not have to once threaten "If you aren't going to eat your food, we're going to go sit in the car while daddy and Chub-chub eat their dinners" (it sucks, but it works. I've only had to sit in the car with her a couple of times...). Who knew that boneless buffalo wings were ambrosia of the gods?

Saturday we woke up late (read: 7:00am), ate a lite breakfast at home, and then loaded up in the two-door sports car! YES!!! A two door Mitsubishi Eclipse. No mommy-van that seats 7 for us, instead we crammed ourselves (especially funny as B.J. is 6' 4" tall) into a tiny tuna-can on wheels and scooted to the coast. We drove from Lincoln City down to Florence. It was glorious. We sat in utter silence just absorbing one another's presence. We spent some time doing hikes in state parks and letterboxing, gaining like 11 stamps for the day (the best hike involved crawling along a downed tree below a section of HWY 101 that crossed a river--felt like we were Indiana Jones or something cool like that). We hiked up communication hill at Yaquina Head Lighthouse--what a spectacular view. The car almost got towed from the turnout that we parked at, even though there was no signage to prohibit it. We came down from our hike just in time to see the tow-truck pull up to take the car--a little bit of an adrenaline rush resulted in preventing the towing. It wound up 'all-good' with no mishaps. The lighthouse was gorgeous, and the views...for lack of better diction, utterly breath-taking.

We bummed around in little local shops here and there, full of trinkets and junk, read that as totally and completely inappropriate for kids to enter. It was fun. We even ventured into a glass float shop, chock full of finely blown glass floats, thin glass sculpture, and miscellaneous glass artworks--just because we could.
We didn't hit Florence until about 9:30pm, and decided to head across 126 to Eugene. It was a fun drive. B.J. got to pretend he was on the autobahn (or something) and test out how well the Eclipse held the corners (I do believe that there are little crescent-shaped indentations in the passenger side arm-rest from my death grip as we careened through the corners--yes, I'm a big 'ol baby when it comes to speed). By the time we hit Eugene we were famished and stopped at a favorite place for some appetizers (was way too late for a heavy meal) to fortify us for our hour drive home.

We finally crashed, in our own bed, at about 12:30am. I hadn't been out that late in ages, and could barely keep my eyes open. It is funny to think that I used to stay out until 2, 3, 4am on a regular basis before we had kids. I could do it, I suppose, since I could sleep-in the next day until noon (aah...such memories. Now-a-days I consider 6:30am sleeping in. Ha ha.).

We concluded our weekend as singles by one last-ditch effort at romance--Sunday breakfast out, alone. The coffee was good, the food was sub-par (what I get for letting B.J. indulge in choosing a greasy spoon to eat at...) but it was the company that I was after. It was so nice, again, to eat our food s-l-o-w-l-y, look at one another and just 'be.'

I truly enjoyed the weekend. Big thanks to our friends K & P for taking on the monumental task of watching our rug rats. You allowed us to renew our spirits, our friendship, and get a much needed recharge. It, as I said to a friend of mine, is amazing what being on-call for 4 years straight can do to you. We so completely and totally needed this recharge. We're blessed to have good friends who love our kids and were willing to take them so we could be better parents and a better husband and wife to each other. And-gulp-they said they want to take the kids again for us, at least once, before the end of summer...

Hmm, I'm thinking this time (God and our friends willing it happens) maybe B.J. and I can fire-up our motorcycles....

Chubbers re-enacts 'A Christmas Story'

From the Christmas movie classic: A Christmas Story

"Now, Randy, can you show me how the little piggies eat? How do the little
piggies eat?"

"That's my little Piggy!"

*Chubbers dove 'head first' into his refried beans. Apparently, he likes them.

I've lost my Chub-chub

Chub-chub is gone. I've lost him.

I can't really say exactly what day or time of day it happened, but he's gone. I miss him so much, I'll likely never get over it.

You see, we went to Winco this afternoon to do the requisite grocery shopping (yag) and I had Peanut and the Chub-chub with me. When I went in I did my 'pre-trip check': kids: check, money: check, shopping cart: check, grocery list: check. All things set to rock and roll, and get my least favorite chore (after cleaning the floors) taken care of.

It was an uneventful trip. I managed 8 grocery bags worth of meat, fresh produce, spices, and various canned/frozen goods for a mere $87. I was feeling pretty good.

Then it happened: I realized I lost my little Chubber. Somewhere between putting the groceries in the back of the van and depositing my cart in the shopping cart corral my baby was no more.

You see, I had my boy wrapped in my arms, his silky little blond head resting heavily on my shoulder, hair tickling my cheek, with his strong little body melding itself bonelessly to me, his brown leather shoes banging into my legs just above my knees. When did this happen? When did my baby turn into this cuddly and beautiful sleepy little boy? He really is turning into a little boy. He's most certainly a toddler who will be 2 years old this August.

Looking at him in the rear view mirror on the way home I watched as the lids of his sparkly cerulean blue eyes became too heavy to hold up, and the dust the sandman had sprinkled upon him took him to the land of nod. I wondered: how much longer will he be even this little? I have so completely enjoyed his babyhood. I, for once, am not guilty of 'wishing away' his little years. Quite the contrary, I've wished I could keep him little for just a while longer. I'll never forget the first seconds I saw him when he came to see me in this world; I'll never forget the bliss I felt as I nursed him at my breast or breathing in his sweet milky breath as I rocked him before bed.

My mother and dad always told me that as you get older that time starts to go by faster; they never told me that when I had my own babies that if you so much as blink that a season goes by. And, that no matter what, they don't stay small: 'babies don't keep' is what a picture frame I have says. I have never heard such an understatement.

I will cherish all the time I have with my boy (and my girl) while they are small. The time is so fleeting, and only the Good Lord knows how much longer they'll want to snuggle down into my neck and wrap sticky fingers 'round the tendrils of my hair. How many more little wet kisses have I been granted? I'll never know until they're gone.

For now, I'll hold tight to my little ones while they're small and while I still can.