In an effort to conserve energy and love our planet (slight sarcasm), we decided to turn off the air and open the windows last night. It was a nice night, so it got cool enough for us to sleep comfortably. It's inevitable though, something must go wrong.
I went to sleep thinking that it would get cold enough for me to shut the fan off when I got up in the night, so we could hear Emma if she cried. The last time we had our fan on, I didn't hear her, (although both doors had been shut). So last night we opened each door, and thought it would probably be ok. But, I just woke up and couldn't stop thinking about not being able to hear her. The thought was stealing my z's. So I turned the fan off, and went back to sleep.
All was well for a couple of hours. Then, I started having this bizarre dream about cats fighting. Then, bizarre became reality. I laid there in bed, at about 3:30, and wondered why cats have to have such issues. They were either having some weird mating interaction, or just fighting. Last year the same thing happened, and I went outside and chased them off, and it ended well. So I was thinking that I had better do the same thing. Out of the blue, my husband says, (not so impressed, mind you) "why did you turn off the fan?". I didn't know that he was awake too, so I had not anticipated being asked for an explanation. He was not impressed, with the fan being off or my answer. He may have reminded me that both doors were open, but I could be interjecting that.
I then rolled out of bed, and made my way downstairs to chase the horny cats away. I thought about getting a broom, but thought that might be a tad dramatic. (Who wants to be the pregnant lady with a broom, chasing cats in the middle of the night?) I turned on the outside light, unbolted the door, and prepared to boldly step out and redeem my bad fan decision.
My foot was midair, on the way to the step, before I processed my surroundings. There, looking at me from beside the bush, (a broom length away) were two very awake raccoons. These weren't baby raccoons (ashamed as I am to be a farm girl and having to resort to calling anything "baby this", I have no idea what to call baby raccoons). No, these were big boys, or girls. So, I did what any rational person would do. I slammed the door and yelled at my husband. I believe it was something along the lines of, "holy crap, there are two huge raccoons outside". I didn't, shall we say, use my inside 3 a.m. voice.
He came down.
We both had never seen them so tame, and we peeked outside, but of course couldn't see anything. We still had the dumb cats to deal with. So I focused and opened the door to complete my original mission.
I was surprised, I really was, one of those beasts was back on the doorstep! On the rug! Right in front of the door! And this time he didn't scamper immediately, I may have beat him getting the door closed. He didn't look as if he were foaming at the mouth (yet) but I think he eyed my foot in a weird way, so I assume he thought it looked tasty. I did just get my toenails painted, so that may have, in fact, added to the meal appeal.
Now, I have seen raccoons, but most of them have been laying on the road. I have seen plenty of nocturnal animals, but they have always been running in the opposite direction. Except for the opossum, he just laid there. (seriously) However, I can now say with some degree of confidence, that here in the burbs, that they are more comfortable with people and porch lights than where I came from. So, (obviously) we choose the lesser of two evils. We locked the door, I got the baby monitor hooked up, we cranked that fan back up and crawled into bed.
It's groundhogs by day, and coons by night.
5.29.2008
5.20.2008
twas the night before...
so tonight is the big packing night. need i say blah? i am worn out today. this morning we went to Deanna Rose, and this afternoon a friend came and hung out. it doesn't take much for these gals to get wiped out. at least one has the excuse that she is only 15 months old.
the upcoming weekend is memorial day. in high school, we were all in band. i played the french horn, and trumpet for marching, jazz, and pep. we were usually let out of school the week before, on wednesday, and we would have to show up on sunday and march. most of us acted like we didn't like it, because school was out, but i think we really did. i did anyway. it was such a gateway into the summer, such a tradition.
my parents would come to the parade, and afterwards our whole family would pack up a lunch and go to a little lake that is seven miles north of the house. we had a canoe that we brought, and soon graduated to a little two man sailboat. the afternoon would be spent relaxing on the water, or in lawn chairs, or playing catch. all of us had played softball (or baseball), and we would be sure to take our gloves along. my grandpa played some mean catch, after all, he was only in his 80's. my siblings and i all had friends who lived on this lake, so sometimes we would sneak off to see them, and sometimes they would come by to say hi.
it's just one of those things that is different now. i don't know exactly what it is, what's changed. i suppose it is all of us, we have all changed. i have been gone for eight years, and in eight years, we have all changed. i miss it though. i want it to be that way. in my mind, i think that if we just went back to the lake again, it could be the same. we could have the relaxing day, the one etched in my mind. it can't be though, and it's kind of sad. you can recreate the situation, but you can't recreate the past.
memories are such a powerful tool, i think. they carry your happiness. they keep alive the things that are aren't really alive anymore. often times, the temptation comes over me to think of those times with sadness, of the disappointment. the disappointment that i didn't know that the last time would be the last time. in the movie, you always know when it is the last time, and they make a big deal about it, like carve a tree or something (ok, i'm being hokey). disappointment that we were all such different people, and we won't ever be those people again. frustration even, that it seems like those things are not being replaced with newer versions, instead they are just sort of being pushed out, slipping away, and we're not putting up a fight. no one is fighting.
but i don't think that is the right way to look at it. i think things will always change, and they might get worse, or they might get better. maybe they are just different, and how are we ever to judge? but the things i have filed away, those should just be allowed to be, not to be disturbed or distorted, or compared. they are then, and then was, then. i must push myself to be able to simply look back and smile, to appreciate how much fun we had. i am getting there. i am training myself to find contentment for what it was, and who we were.
the upcoming weekend is memorial day. in high school, we were all in band. i played the french horn, and trumpet for marching, jazz, and pep. we were usually let out of school the week before, on wednesday, and we would have to show up on sunday and march. most of us acted like we didn't like it, because school was out, but i think we really did. i did anyway. it was such a gateway into the summer, such a tradition.
my parents would come to the parade, and afterwards our whole family would pack up a lunch and go to a little lake that is seven miles north of the house. we had a canoe that we brought, and soon graduated to a little two man sailboat. the afternoon would be spent relaxing on the water, or in lawn chairs, or playing catch. all of us had played softball (or baseball), and we would be sure to take our gloves along. my grandpa played some mean catch, after all, he was only in his 80's. my siblings and i all had friends who lived on this lake, so sometimes we would sneak off to see them, and sometimes they would come by to say hi.
it's just one of those things that is different now. i don't know exactly what it is, what's changed. i suppose it is all of us, we have all changed. i have been gone for eight years, and in eight years, we have all changed. i miss it though. i want it to be that way. in my mind, i think that if we just went back to the lake again, it could be the same. we could have the relaxing day, the one etched in my mind. it can't be though, and it's kind of sad. you can recreate the situation, but you can't recreate the past.
memories are such a powerful tool, i think. they carry your happiness. they keep alive the things that are aren't really alive anymore. often times, the temptation comes over me to think of those times with sadness, of the disappointment. the disappointment that i didn't know that the last time would be the last time. in the movie, you always know when it is the last time, and they make a big deal about it, like carve a tree or something (ok, i'm being hokey). disappointment that we were all such different people, and we won't ever be those people again. frustration even, that it seems like those things are not being replaced with newer versions, instead they are just sort of being pushed out, slipping away, and we're not putting up a fight. no one is fighting.
but i don't think that is the right way to look at it. i think things will always change, and they might get worse, or they might get better. maybe they are just different, and how are we ever to judge? but the things i have filed away, those should just be allowed to be, not to be disturbed or distorted, or compared. they are then, and then was, then. i must push myself to be able to simply look back and smile, to appreciate how much fun we had. i am getting there. i am training myself to find contentment for what it was, and who we were.
5.19.2008
groggy monday
There are times when I want to sit down with Emma and explain some things for her. Reason with her, and shape her little will to mine. Today is one of those days. I would kindly explain that the night is for sleeping, and although I understand completely how frustrating it can be to wake up and have a hard time getting back to sleep, the correct behavior is not to yell about it. There will be no yelling before 7:00. Unfortunately, there is no such luck. I have to just stick it out. It's hard to be truly upset with the little thing, she is so sweet and lovable, lucky for her. Between her and my crazy pregnant body, I may have some very restless nights. Oh well, I can always get up at 4:30, have some cereal and read a little of my husband's magazine. So many things I have to be thankful for, cereal, air conditioning, Tylenol, and a whiny daughter to keep me in line.
My husband rocks. I must have won the cosmic lottery to have claimed him. He made me eggs on Sunday as I slept in, out of exhaustion, not pampering (that was last weekend), and brought them to me. And as I came downstairs, I see the coffee :) He doesn't even drink coffee. I hope I am able to love people like he loves me.
A few weeks ago our vacuum died. So yesterday we went vacuum shopping. There is little chance that I am going to pay for a vacuum that costs nearly what our couch did, unless it is guaranteed to add years to my life or sleep to my nights. That narrowed it down a bit. We found one that has the option of popping the canister out and carrying it, so you can do your stairs, or tights areas, or whatever. We went back and forth a little bit, because it was quite a price difference. But I have heard a few people say if you get the cheapest one, you'll have to get a new one anyway. And a well timed phone call came, and it was confirmed that the canister option was worth it. We loaded it up, we carted it around, and we brought it home.
When I was in fifth grade, we got a new kitchen. My parents live in a farm house that is a hundred years old or so. We moved into this house while my grandpa was still living there, and although many renovations had been made, he was a simple man who lived, well, a simple life. I distinctly remember laundry day with my mom and my brother. The washer was an automatic, but it didn't have a spin cycle. It must have been 30, 40, 50 years old. So the clothes would wash, then you would put them in a big tub, and the was a ringer that you used to ring out the water. Some car washes have them for your shammies. After the ringing was done, we would hang them on the clothes line to dry, because there was no dryer. He must have had an indoor clothesline for the winter, but I don't remember that as well. He was simple.
So the kitchen was equally inadequate for a family. There was this weird green carpet, and a little sink on a stainless steel counter, and a table against one wall. I don't know that there were any cupboards or real storage. A big pantry is located right off the kitchen, so I suppose he kept everything in there. After a time living there, the time had come to update. So, out went the sink, in came some cupboards, and a new fridge. And, alas, the weird green carpet was replaced with a beautiful laminate floor. We had it delivered, and it was a big day when the men carried it in and sat it in front of our couch (which we won't discuss here). My father put it in, with the help of his children, and my grandpa, I suppose. I don't remember a lot of that, other than a blue line that was put on the floor by a long string that came out of a thing like a tape measure, and you would stretch it way out and then snap it, and the line would appear, showing them where to cut. It was truly a work of art.
So months later, christmas came. Although we never really celebrated christmas, we usually got a few gifts. I think my parents were really conscious of not wanting us to feel odd when we went back to school. There was this long package for me. It was wrapped and standing upright, leaning against the buffet in the dining room. I was a bright girl, and it didn't take me long to figure out what it was. Oh, they knew me well! I humored them, of course, and went along with the ritual of "what can it be?", "what is it?", "just tell me!". I "settled" on a pogo stick, yes, it must be a pogo stick. Of course, when the time came, I acted very surprised when I opened it, and found a new mop. A brand new nice mop for the beautiful floor. Now, it was of course a gag gift, meant to get a few laughs. But I really liked it! I have always had a little mutation that allows me to enjoy cleaning, and things being clean. So on this day, I was tickled to get a mop for "my" new floor. I would bet I didn't go to school and announce that I had gotten a mop, however.
That feeling of delight was revisited when our new vacuum arrived in our living room. Although I had decided that Sunday night was no time to vacuum, it wasn't much time before I dug into the box, put it together, and took it for a test drive. Oh, it was glorious. The brush that is so strong that it feels self-propelled, the light (that I once scoffed at) that allows you to see into the dark and dirty corners, that raw power of clean. Nothing prepared me for the canister though. I popped that baby out and went for the stairs, and I vacuumed them with such elation! Because my husband was still outside busy with something, I took my new apparatus to the garage and embarked on the van. I'm telling you, there is little else like the feeling of really cleaning, and seeing the results. I folded seats, I moved jumper cables, I crouched, I stretched, I found a tape measure belonging to my father-in-law, hidden away. (Both an excitement, and a feeling of uh-oh, we thought we didn't have that) I momentarily forgot I was carrying a child. The van, the van is very clean too.
So I am reminded of the days of youth, when I would get so bent out of shape when I had just mopped the floor and some lug would come trampling dirt, or muck, all the way across it. I believe some siblings of mine would remember those days also, although they may have a different rendition of it entirely.
My husband rocks. I must have won the cosmic lottery to have claimed him. He made me eggs on Sunday as I slept in, out of exhaustion, not pampering (that was last weekend), and brought them to me. And as I came downstairs, I see the coffee :) He doesn't even drink coffee. I hope I am able to love people like he loves me.
A few weeks ago our vacuum died. So yesterday we went vacuum shopping. There is little chance that I am going to pay for a vacuum that costs nearly what our couch did, unless it is guaranteed to add years to my life or sleep to my nights. That narrowed it down a bit. We found one that has the option of popping the canister out and carrying it, so you can do your stairs, or tights areas, or whatever. We went back and forth a little bit, because it was quite a price difference. But I have heard a few people say if you get the cheapest one, you'll have to get a new one anyway. And a well timed phone call came, and it was confirmed that the canister option was worth it. We loaded it up, we carted it around, and we brought it home.
When I was in fifth grade, we got a new kitchen. My parents live in a farm house that is a hundred years old or so. We moved into this house while my grandpa was still living there, and although many renovations had been made, he was a simple man who lived, well, a simple life. I distinctly remember laundry day with my mom and my brother. The washer was an automatic, but it didn't have a spin cycle. It must have been 30, 40, 50 years old. So the clothes would wash, then you would put them in a big tub, and the was a ringer that you used to ring out the water. Some car washes have them for your shammies. After the ringing was done, we would hang them on the clothes line to dry, because there was no dryer. He must have had an indoor clothesline for the winter, but I don't remember that as well. He was simple.
So the kitchen was equally inadequate for a family. There was this weird green carpet, and a little sink on a stainless steel counter, and a table against one wall. I don't know that there were any cupboards or real storage. A big pantry is located right off the kitchen, so I suppose he kept everything in there. After a time living there, the time had come to update. So, out went the sink, in came some cupboards, and a new fridge. And, alas, the weird green carpet was replaced with a beautiful laminate floor. We had it delivered, and it was a big day when the men carried it in and sat it in front of our couch (which we won't discuss here). My father put it in, with the help of his children, and my grandpa, I suppose. I don't remember a lot of that, other than a blue line that was put on the floor by a long string that came out of a thing like a tape measure, and you would stretch it way out and then snap it, and the line would appear, showing them where to cut. It was truly a work of art.
So months later, christmas came. Although we never really celebrated christmas, we usually got a few gifts. I think my parents were really conscious of not wanting us to feel odd when we went back to school. There was this long package for me. It was wrapped and standing upright, leaning against the buffet in the dining room. I was a bright girl, and it didn't take me long to figure out what it was. Oh, they knew me well! I humored them, of course, and went along with the ritual of "what can it be?", "what is it?", "just tell me!". I "settled" on a pogo stick, yes, it must be a pogo stick. Of course, when the time came, I acted very surprised when I opened it, and found a new mop. A brand new nice mop for the beautiful floor. Now, it was of course a gag gift, meant to get a few laughs. But I really liked it! I have always had a little mutation that allows me to enjoy cleaning, and things being clean. So on this day, I was tickled to get a mop for "my" new floor. I would bet I didn't go to school and announce that I had gotten a mop, however.
That feeling of delight was revisited when our new vacuum arrived in our living room. Although I had decided that Sunday night was no time to vacuum, it wasn't much time before I dug into the box, put it together, and took it for a test drive. Oh, it was glorious. The brush that is so strong that it feels self-propelled, the light (that I once scoffed at) that allows you to see into the dark and dirty corners, that raw power of clean. Nothing prepared me for the canister though. I popped that baby out and went for the stairs, and I vacuumed them with such elation! Because my husband was still outside busy with something, I took my new apparatus to the garage and embarked on the van. I'm telling you, there is little else like the feeling of really cleaning, and seeing the results. I folded seats, I moved jumper cables, I crouched, I stretched, I found a tape measure belonging to my father-in-law, hidden away. (Both an excitement, and a feeling of uh-oh, we thought we didn't have that) I momentarily forgot I was carrying a child. The van, the van is very clean too.
So I am reminded of the days of youth, when I would get so bent out of shape when I had just mopped the floor and some lug would come trampling dirt, or muck, all the way across it. I believe some siblings of mine would remember those days also, although they may have a different rendition of it entirely.
5.15.2008
none
today is my husband's birthday. i made him some brownies, and we are having pizza for supper. it's fun to take care of the people you love. i enjoy all the times that allow you to look back and reminisce about the time that has passed, as well as look to the future, and try to imagine what we will be thinking next year.
one year ago, jess started his job. i seem to remember him starting on his birthday, but it may have been the day before. we had a very small baby, she would have been close to three months old. we moved at the beginning of may, so we would have been here for a couple of weeks. we were looking forward to the memorial day weekend, when our Seattleites would come to visit, and would meet our little one for the first time! i was exploring our new city, and learning where all the essentials were, like target, and barnes and noble. it was all so fresh and new, it was as though we were starting our lives as grown ups.
one year from now, we'll have two babe's. we'll be continuing to get ever closer to turning the big...well, you know. jess will have been at his job for two years, and i'll have been at home for that long. all of our siblings will be married. our Seattleites will be closer to completing masters, and will be oh so smart. jess might be looking at bikes, or maybe already have one.
our baby will be two and a half in a year. eek! i can handle babies. i don't know about actual children, much less toddlers. they're easier when you can sit them down, and the look at the ceiling fan and think it's miraculous...there goes an hour or so. this business of teaching them things, and parenting them, that kind of freaks me out. i haven't taken any classes or anything! ;) it's a good think emma is tough, the oldest probably gets the brunt of it. then the youngest comes along and breezes through, no problem. ahh...it's fun to be the youngest.
i am exhausted. i believe the laundry in the dryer will take a rain check, and the dishes will enjoy their place on the counter, and this lady is going to take a nap.
one year ago, jess started his job. i seem to remember him starting on his birthday, but it may have been the day before. we had a very small baby, she would have been close to three months old. we moved at the beginning of may, so we would have been here for a couple of weeks. we were looking forward to the memorial day weekend, when our Seattleites would come to visit, and would meet our little one for the first time! i was exploring our new city, and learning where all the essentials were, like target, and barnes and noble. it was all so fresh and new, it was as though we were starting our lives as grown ups.
one year from now, we'll have two babe's. we'll be continuing to get ever closer to turning the big...well, you know. jess will have been at his job for two years, and i'll have been at home for that long. all of our siblings will be married. our Seattleites will be closer to completing masters, and will be oh so smart. jess might be looking at bikes, or maybe already have one.
our baby will be two and a half in a year. eek! i can handle babies. i don't know about actual children, much less toddlers. they're easier when you can sit them down, and the look at the ceiling fan and think it's miraculous...there goes an hour or so. this business of teaching them things, and parenting them, that kind of freaks me out. i haven't taken any classes or anything! ;) it's a good think emma is tough, the oldest probably gets the brunt of it. then the youngest comes along and breezes through, no problem. ahh...it's fun to be the youngest.
i am exhausted. i believe the laundry in the dryer will take a rain check, and the dishes will enjoy their place on the counter, and this lady is going to take a nap.
5.12.2008
5.07.2008
and the rain came down
5.05.2008
monday monday
This weekend was good.
I got two new pairs of shoes last week. I tell you what, it feels pretty luxurious. One pair of running shoes, one black pair of dress. On Saturday we went shopping for me, and found a dress for me to wear for the upcoming wedding. It is amazing how stressed out I was getting. If only I could go in black lounge pants and a nice t-shirt...and of course my new kicks.
I am tired today. I feel like I shouldn't be, but am.
I had a doctor appointment today. Everything was good. After my next one, I will go every other week. Today I was measured for the first time! I think I am 24 centimeters, whatever I am, it was right on track. The heart sounds good, and everything is ok. The next visit I will do the glucose test, which I am not looking forward to. Last time I did two in the office before they sent me to do the three hour one. Ugh. I hope I don't have to do that again. This time I will get to get blood drawn in the morning, which may help. The blood lady is this awesome black lady who told a story about how she took her kid down, or something. She was pretty funny, in a no nonsense way. She did a really good job though. In Lincoln, the people who drew blood were young peep's who didn't do such a good job. So it sucks when you have to get stuck four times, and they aren't especially smooth.
I have had some introspective days lately. They are kind of hard for me, sometimes I just want to forget about all the things I think about. Usually something starts me thinking, and I really have to work through it. I am learning to accept that there are things that I really want to change, but am just not going to be able to. I am trying to figure out the way to be gracious, and forgiving, and loving, and mature. It is hard to be those things when you have things that you hang on to, not because you are out for revenge or full of spite, but because they have almost become a part of your identity. After you get offended, or hurt, or whatever, so many times, you learn that is how it is going to be, and you just have to deal with it. I just have parts of my life that aren't how they should be, and it isn't my fault, but that is how it is. So I need to figure out how to allow God to fill that part of me, and be the best I can be, for me, for my husband, and for my family. My kids don't need to inherit my baggage.
Emma has her asthma kicking in again. I wonder if allergies can cause that to act up. It isn't as bad as it was when she was little, but she gets these fits that I hate to listen to. I feel so bad for her. We give her a breathing treatment and that seems to help. It makes me grateful for the medical care we have available. Without her treatments, I hate to think how bad she would cough.
Last week we had storms. There were a few tornadoes, and very strong wind. We got some good pictures of the sky before it hit, I'll have to put them up.
I got two new pairs of shoes last week. I tell you what, it feels pretty luxurious. One pair of running shoes, one black pair of dress. On Saturday we went shopping for me, and found a dress for me to wear for the upcoming wedding. It is amazing how stressed out I was getting. If only I could go in black lounge pants and a nice t-shirt...and of course my new kicks.
I am tired today. I feel like I shouldn't be, but am.
I had a doctor appointment today. Everything was good. After my next one, I will go every other week. Today I was measured for the first time! I think I am 24 centimeters, whatever I am, it was right on track. The heart sounds good, and everything is ok. The next visit I will do the glucose test, which I am not looking forward to. Last time I did two in the office before they sent me to do the three hour one. Ugh. I hope I don't have to do that again. This time I will get to get blood drawn in the morning, which may help. The blood lady is this awesome black lady who told a story about how she took her kid down, or something. She was pretty funny, in a no nonsense way. She did a really good job though. In Lincoln, the people who drew blood were young peep's who didn't do such a good job. So it sucks when you have to get stuck four times, and they aren't especially smooth.
I have had some introspective days lately. They are kind of hard for me, sometimes I just want to forget about all the things I think about. Usually something starts me thinking, and I really have to work through it. I am learning to accept that there are things that I really want to change, but am just not going to be able to. I am trying to figure out the way to be gracious, and forgiving, and loving, and mature. It is hard to be those things when you have things that you hang on to, not because you are out for revenge or full of spite, but because they have almost become a part of your identity. After you get offended, or hurt, or whatever, so many times, you learn that is how it is going to be, and you just have to deal with it. I just have parts of my life that aren't how they should be, and it isn't my fault, but that is how it is. So I need to figure out how to allow God to fill that part of me, and be the best I can be, for me, for my husband, and for my family. My kids don't need to inherit my baggage.
Emma has her asthma kicking in again. I wonder if allergies can cause that to act up. It isn't as bad as it was when she was little, but she gets these fits that I hate to listen to. I feel so bad for her. We give her a breathing treatment and that seems to help. It makes me grateful for the medical care we have available. Without her treatments, I hate to think how bad she would cough.
Last week we had storms. There were a few tornadoes, and very strong wind. We got some good pictures of the sky before it hit, I'll have to put them up.
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