Trace Of Home

Random 2012 notes

2012-01-22T11:24:00.000-08:00

Oh, my---I love January. The pressure to be jolly is finally over, and now we can be merely content. Which is actually good enough, thank you.

The new year brought good news on a family health front and after that, well, all other good things were just a bonus. But, mercifully, they keep coming, and we are so grateful.

My mother-in-law is still recovering nicely and has managed to do so without threatening bodily harm to anyone, which is likely how I would react after being couch-bound for weeks on end.

In the last couple of weeks both kids have had sleepovers, Sir Jack for Nate and the lovely Elaina for Liv. Both guests were excellent company. This weekend has been a tad quieter, with Nate nursing a cold. Olivia is at her knitting lesson today with Cousin Emma. This idea was hatched by the girls and a dear church member Susan. Twice a month they go home with Susan after church, have a snack and knit. I don't know which thing I'm more blown away by---the fact that my ten-year-old daughter who loves all things electronic is fascinated by knitting, or the never-ending grace and generosity of someone like Susan who offered up two Sunday afternoons a month to knit and share cookies with her. As I mentioned, the good things blessedly keep rolling in.

What's on the night stand: (Or should I say what's on the new Kindle Fire which was a Christmas gift from hubs. But it does rest on the night stand.)-- Traveling Mercies, by Anne Lamont. Awesome, awesome read. Anne Lamont is a recovered alcoholic who is now an associate pastor of a super crunchy granola church in northern California. Her courageous honesty about her struggles through addiction, getting sober and unexpectedly having a son at age 35 is nothing short of humbling. The fact that she's hilarious is just icing.

What's been on the menu: Aunt Sybil's chili, roast chicken, chicken and rice soup, beef tips. All in the slow cooker, my winter BFF. Oh, and of course chicken casserole, the kind with the stuffing on top (not a slow cooker meal but just as easy and delicious). I had to make that after overhearing Nate ask Emma one night "Hey, have you ever had my Aunt Sybil's chicken casserole? With the crunchy stuff on top? Oh, MAN that stuff is goooood." Emma and my Aunt Sybil, as far as I know, have never met. But maybe I should make the casserole for her one day--she will definitely want to meet her and get her autograph to boot. :)

State of winter so far: Still not much of one, although today the temps barely reached above 40 which was highly unusual. Aunt Beth's birthday is still coming up on Tuesday and that almost always brings some snow. Finger's crossed!
And fingers double-crossed that if it comes, it'll melt in about 8 hours. Heh. Sorry, that's how we southern gals roll.

Faking It

2011-12-23T10:14:00.000-08:00

Things feel a little off this year. We've decorated, made gingerbread creations, sent and received cards but for various reasons I'm just not feeling it this year.

Yesterday we discovered that something we thought we didn't have to worry about is, in fact, not quite over. It feels like a cruel joke was played on all of us.

Meanwhile, we all know that a big part of this season is for the children so for their sake I'm putting on music tonight, getting down my Christmas Eve coffee cake ingredients, and helping them wrap their gifts for eachother. Olivia has been working on something for Nate for weeks. Nate--well, he approved of the gift his mother purchased for him to give his sister. He really thought Liv would prefer Madden Football for the Wii but somehow I don't agree.

Oh, and did I mention it's nearly 70 degrees? I'm not complaining it's just that that is decidedly UN-Christmassy weather, OK?

The good thing is that Mark's brother and his family are flying in from Maine tonight and staying with us. The kids are beyond excited to see their cousin and it'll be great to spend time with them.

Sigh. . .meanwhile I'll try to get over my funk. Maybe the spirit will hit me sometime in February when perhaps the temperature will dip below 60.

Breathe In, Breathe Out

2011-12-21T10:26:00.000-08:00

Hmm, where to begin.
November sure did bring us a roller coaster ride that started out great and ended with a thud. But December mercifully had us back on track again, chugging along.

I'll post some pics soon from a wonderful trip to NYC that Olivia and I took with my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and niece. It was a much-needed girls weekend that included going to see "Wicked" on Broadway, a Central Park carriage ride, and skating for the girls at Rockefeller Center.

Soon after arriving home, my sweet sister-in-law received news that shook us all to our very core. After a lot of tears, prayers and support from our church family and friends (oh and a very successful surgery) she's on the mend and we're slowly creeping our way back to normal. Or at least normal for us. :)

MEANWHILE, my poor mother-in-law, who normally effortlessly maintains her status as Super Grandma, fell and broke her kneecap a couple of weeks ago (I KNOW--Owwww) and is reluctantly laid up on her couch. The knee is set and braced and so far it looks like she'll be able to avoid surgery. BUT!! She of course is so frustrated because she wants to help her daughter, cook, wrap gifts, decorate and basically do what Grandmas do.
Mark and I (mostly Mark, I have to say) have tried to help out with both households as much as possible. We still don't feel as if we're doing enough. Hopefully we made things a little more bearable for them. They mean so much to us, and we realize that now more than ever.

Back in Pinetown: My dear Uncle Edgar passed away on Saturday Dec. 17. He had been in declining health for months and is at last at peace. He loved football, chocolate, and his many nieces and nephews. He loved being an uncle, and it showed. RIP, sweet Edgar Paul.

Looking Back on September

2011-11-06T17:09:00.000-08:00

OK, I realize I'm going backwards here. The last post included photos from August, then I jumped to October and now I'm back to September. Sorry. I have to be me.
Just wanted to preserve some memories from my birthday girl's night in Charlotte with pals Dawn and Sharon, and also Aunt Ro's 90th birthday lunch at The Savannah Tea Room in Fort Mill.

We're too shexy for our gruyere popovers. Almost.

Morning-after French press at Amelie's!

Emma and Olivia with Aunt Ro on her birthday.

Random Recent Moments

2011-11-06T16:53:00.000-08:00

That title isn't entirely accurate, depending on how "recent" August actually is. Anyway, here are some photos of Benjamin's shower in August (we also took a side trip with cousins Holly and Rhynn to wait for one of the world's best hot dogs EVAH).
There's also some shots of the wedding in October, a snap of the view from Blue Ridge Parkway, and I also captured Olivia's 'do for the daddy-daughter dance last night. Also got one of her and Mark before they headed out the door. They both had a blast. This was one of the school's best fundraisers by far. Can't wait to break out the macarena for the mother-son dance in the spring! Hee. Just kidding. I'm much, much better at the robot.

That Girl

2011-11-01T10:21:00.000-07:00

I really need to post some photos soon so I can look back on events of the past few months. Meanwhile, a teensy vent.

Olivia and Mark are attending the school's first annual Daddy-Daughter dance this Saturday (uncles, grandpas and guardians welcome too of course). We first found out about it a month or so ago and she and I agreed (next time I'll get it in writing) that she would wear the cute little black sparkly dress she wore to Benjamin's wedding.

So last night while out trick-or-treating we ran into one of the other dads who said that his daughter, a friend of Liv's, bought a new dress this weekend and was very excited. We told him how excited Olivia also was, and she piped up, "When are WE going shopping for a dress, Mommy?"

Yeah.

After we walked on, I reminded her that she already had a dress. Remember? The one you wore to Benjamin's wedding? Then she did what it takes most women decades to perfect. She said, "Oh. It's OK." Then she sighed. Then she got quiet.

So naturally I went out at lunch and plunked down whatever money I've saved from brown-bagging my lunch this month for a new dress. A red one, with a cute little shawl thingy for the shoulders. Sheesh. I need my head examined. That thing that some moms are born with, the thing that makes you do ANYTHING to make your daughter smile, even when they're being a bit of a butthead? Yeah, I need to have that thing surgically removed.

Warm and Fuzziness on Friday

2011-10-14T11:07:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow we head to beautiful Boone, NC to see my wittle bitty baby cousin Benjamin get married. OK, so he's not so itty bitty anymore. That would be weird. He's all grown up, teaches high school and is getting hitched to a super-smart mountain gal who also teaches at the same school.
The kids are beside themselves with excitement. They've never been to a wedding before, so they're not sure what to expect. They've had their outfits planned for weeks. All they really know is they're going to get to see two people kiss in public, and at some point some yummy snacks will be involved.

It also doesn't hurt that Boone is smack-dab in the middle of the NC mountains, which should be gorgeous with autumn color right now. And, we'll also get to see some sweet aunts, uncles and cousins.

So today, with road trip plans swimming in my mind, here are the comforting words that keep popping in my head:

Tradition.
Family.
Pumpkin latte (you KNOW I will stop for one).
The team store, where I'm sure hubs will get an App State sweatshirt.
Fried chicken (From the Daniel Boone Inn---duh!).
Cinnamon Pear jam from Mast General Store. It will be mine.

The groove. And comic relief.

2011-09-25T05:26:00.000-07:00

I think I'm back in it. The groove, I mean. The kids long beat me to it. They hit the ground running when school and other activities began, and aside from a brief e-mail from someone's teacher about someone's excessive chattiness during work cycles (guess who), September and the school year got off to a relatively smooth start.

I just realized that a couple posts ago I mentioned a river tubing trip with no other details other than the scorching case of poison ivy I received as a parting gift. Oh, and hubs got it too. The trip itself, while I wouldn't say was a total bust was well. . . eventful. I think I can laugh about it now. Only a little.

The weekend before school started we decided to take a day trip to the mountains to tube down the Green River. For 8 bucks a pop, you get to leisurely float down the gently flowing water on your own little innertube-thingy while enjoying the breathtaking views. The website failed to mention the razor-sharp rocks, the fact that you're helpless against the current with no paddle and the weedy banks of the river which seem to have a magnetic pull with the ability to draw 41-yr-old Moms away from the group.

Mercifully, cameras and cellphones weren't allowed on the river, so there are no images of me getting caught in the weeds 49 times and requiring Mark to paddle back and rescue me, pulling my little tube-raft back into the current.

And me, stepping out of my raft to join everyone on the bank for a break only to step right into a hidden 20-foot drop-off and plunge into the water, finally emerging after what seemed like a year only to flail around, grab my blessed tube, sunglasses and desperately try to fight the current to get to shore. I remember seeing the kids out of the corner of my eye, pointing and yelling. Mark had to come help me then too.

Oh, and there was also me getting caught in some swirly part of the water in the middle of the river that didn't allow my raft to budge. I kept going around in a little circle, desperately trying to paddle my way out of it with my hands. Finally, one of the kids noticed that Mom was lagging behind (again) and once again my hero (although a sighing, eye-rolling hero), lugged his own raft over and pulled me back into the proper current.

Later that night, after the kids were in bed, I apologized for being a tubing spaz. He gave my knee a little patronizing pat and assured me it was OK. Normally I would've called him on the little pat, but I was so happy to be alive and sitting on my couch and watching a Law and Order from 1999 that I just patted him back.

This month I made it to age 42. No thanks to that dadgum river.

At Last

2011-09-02T10:21:00.000-07:00

September. Whew.

Another August Almost Gone

2011-08-31T06:51:00.000-07:00

For me, August is hard. I've mentioned that, I know. The absence of my parents is even more palpable during their birthday month, and this year was also the first anniversary of Dad's passing.

Also, I'm currently taking a prednisone prescription for poison ivy contracted during a river tubing trip (more on that later). The prednisone is only slightly helping---I've been sneaking into the bathroom at work to claw at my upper arms. It also has a tendency to cause insomnia for me, so. . .a slightly sad girl alone with her thoughts at 1 a.m.? Bad combo.

I just miss them. I miss the way my mom would say, "Oh, HELLO!" whenever I called. I miss the way my dad would say "Fairly middlin'" whenever someone asked how he was doing. The answer was the same whether he was having a great day, or bedridden in the hospital.
I miss watching them with the kids--my dad showing them the glorious ritual of making homemade churned ice cream. My mom putting her curlers in Olivia's hair. But mostly I just miss them.

There's good stuff in August, too: Olivia's adoption anniversary, which brings a celebratory dinner and family fun. The reminder of a never-ending blessing. Oh, and Mark's cousin Pam's birthday, which almost always guarantees a visit from her. And this year it did; she came down from Ohio with Aunt Ro and we had a great time together eating out, swimming at Grandma's neighborhood pool, etc.

School began last week and turns out I was the one least prepared. Back to crazy schedules and structured bedtimes? Bleh--do I have to??
But, I'm determined to pull myself out of this funk and get in the groove. Life is actually pretty good. Itchy, but good.

Things I've Learned This Summer

2011-08-08T10:50:00.000-07:00

1. I hate "recommended" summer assignments as much as the kids. Fewer things are more exhausting than watching an eight-year-old write five cursive sentences, all while simultaneously giving you the stink-eye.

2. My son Nate's name, when bellowed by an exhasperated sister, can have as many as three syllables: "Naaa-aaa--TUH!"

3. Going to an amusement park in a light rain is the best way to go. No lines, no suffocating heat. This gem I learned by accident.

4. Certain days in July and August will always be a little sad for me, no matter how I may try to ignore it. Feeling sad is OK. Eating every carb in sight, while certainly a temporary mood-lifter, is not.

5. Despite living in the south all my life, I continue to be amazed when we occasionally hit triple-digit temps in the summer. And I still find it fascinating conversation and I'm not ashamed.

6. Some frozen fruit + yogurt + almond milk + oatmeal+ a little Splenda whirled in a blender = a refreshing breakfast and no hunger pangs before lunchtime.

7. When a small home project takes about three times as long as it should, it becomes normal to have paint cans sitting in your foyer. One day they'll be gone, and I'm not sure what we'll do with the bit of empty space.

8. Ten-year-old girls, when they sneak into your make-up and apply mascara and lip gloss, suddenly look like fifteen-year-old girls. This makes me cry. And hide my make-up with the bathroom cleaning products. She'll never look there.

9. For some people, growing your hair long again in an attempt to recapture youth only makes one look like a puffy ex-cheerleader. Again, this is only true for some people. With names that rhyme with "Spacy Smellin'."

10. When making lists, it's OK to stop at nine even though your heart and soul screams out for a nice, round even number like---oh, hey look---TEN!

Too Soon For Aricept??

2011-05-23T17:01:00.000-07:00

Hey- have you ever been in the grocery store, pondered buying some vanilla Greek yogurt to go with your work lunches, but then decided you won't spend money on more yogurt until all the disgusting overly-sweet yogurt that your kids like is gone? And then, while packing your lunch later that night, frantically searched for the vanilla yogurt that you were SURE you bought?

Yeah. Me neither.

Oh! And have you ever purged your pantry, which included throwing out some old baking powder from 2002, and then a few days later you wanted to make this killer recipe for pancakes and then proceeded to turn your cupboards inside out looking for the blessed 1/4 tsp baking powder it called for?

Me neither. But wouldn't that be funny? You know, if someone you knew actually did that?

And have you ever driven into the parking lot at work and found a super-sweet spot extra close to the building, which is miles away from where you normally have to park, and then when five o'clock rolls around you're wandering around the parking lot trying to look nonchalant while you press the "panic" button on your key fob so you can find said vehicle??

Ahem. Me neither. But if I knew someone like that, I'd probably suggest that she stop watching lame-o LOST DVD's and get to bed on time!

I've Been Waiting Such a Long Time for Saturday

2011-05-14T17:27:00.001-07:00

Good day today. Blessedly uneventful.
Liv and I actually woke up in time to make it to the farmer's market today while it was in full swing. We got to visit the last two Austrailian Sheepdog pups that a local rescue group brings each weekend. I explained again why they can't come home with us, but in my heart I have named them Annie and Mable and they get along famously with Wally and no one minds that every available surface in the house is covered in their fabulous tri-colored fur.
Sigh.
So, yet again, we had to be satisfied with Baucom Farm eggs and a bag of kale, a head of baby romaine and a quart of strawberries. Not a bad consolation.
After Nate's baseball game (they lost 14-16 but the Natester got two nice base hits), we headed over to Matthews to pick up a birthday gift for Grandma.
We also stopped for a couple of DVD's, Ace Ventura for the kiddos and the last season of LOST for the oldsters. We are totally addicted to that freakin' show. We can't help but burst into giggles when we talk about it.

"Like, do you think Sawyer loves Juliet now that they've time-travelled back to 1977?"
"Well, yeah, but if John Locke turns the big wheel and sends them back to present day and they all get rescued, it could change EVERYTHING, man."

Yeah.

Good day.

A royal-tastic breakfast

2011-04-29T06:51:00.000-07:00

Congrats to Will and Kate. We celebrated at Casa de Pellin by having our juice in wine goblets along with our Multigrain Cheerios while watching the coverage.
It was good to turn on the morning news and see something fun for a change.

April is the cruelest &%$#ing month

2011-04-17T14:38:00.000-07:00

OK, so score one tiny point for me for letting my intuition guide me this weekend.

When Liv woke up with a generally achy tummy on Saturday I did what most mothers and grandmothers who came before me have done for generations. I asked: "When was the last time you went number two, Honey?"
When she couldn't recall, I gave her a Motrin and some hot tea. She felt better, and we proceeded with our day of picking up the house, getting a hair trim (mine) and other errands. She was able to eat a little lunch, but not much.

When we got home, Anna Marie came by and the two of them assumed their position on the sofa in front of the laptop with their heads glued together at the sides. At one point Liv stood up and doubled over in pain, clutching her right side.

That was it--after one phone call to run my thoughts by Mark and my mom-in-law who were out with Nate, we were on our way to the ER. My mother-in-law and I are both appendicitis veterans with the lovely scars to prove it, so we knew the signs.

After some brief examinations, blood tests and tears, Liv was in the operating room having a laparoscopic appendectomy. I became tearful only after the surgery was underway and Mark was with me in the waiting room. Honestly, it all happened so fast it took that long for the reality to catch up with me. Within 45 minutes after she entered the O.R., the surgeon came out with some digital photos of our daughter's intestine and the offending little, um, appendage. It had a little jagged black hole on the tip, the beginning of a rupture.

"Thank God you brought her in when you did," Mark said. And thank God the surgeon and his attending physician didn't listen to me when I practically begged for ultrasounds, CT scans and any other tests before they put my baby under general anaesthesia. In the end they stood firm and went with their gut (sorry), and for that I'm so grateful.

So, here's to over-protective moms and knowledgeable, slightly stubborn surgeons everywhere.

Today Olivia's much better, a little sore from the operation but eating, drinking and moving around slowly but surely around the children's wing of the hospital. Nate, her cousin Emma and her grandma have all been here making a fuss over her. Fingers crossed that we can head home tomorrow, that's the plan! Meanwhile, she'll have a great "How I Spent My Spring Break" story for next week.

Random April Updates

2011-04-03T10:57:00.000-07:00

1. I woke up early Friday morning to the unmistakeable sounds of Nate getting sick in the hall bathroom. Several high temp readings and one Dr.'s visit reminiscent of a hog-tying later, we were sent home with orders of fluids and rest. It's just a virus, but a wicked one. However, our boy is not so weak that he doesn't require one robust-sized mom and a seasoned nurse to hold him down while a strep test is being administered.

2. Today is day three of Nate's sickness and spring finally decided to arrive with gorgeous 70-degree temps and clear skies. Watching him stare out the window at the neighborhood kids playing basketball at the goal at the end of the street is heartbreaking.

3. Olivia and her cousin Emma are in our church's spring musical this evening. They each have several lines and have been practicing for weeks and weeks. My job is to videotape something other than my toes and the heads of the people sitting in front of me so Nate and Mark can watch it later.

4. I watched a Disney TV movie called "Starstruck" with the kids last night, starring Sterling Knight (please God that can't be his real name). Unbelievably horrible.
I found myself saying things like "Um, most girls don't care that much about cars, Honey." and "I'm pretty sure she's too young to go to a concert without a parent."
Anyway, somehow I've got this insanely catchy song from the movie burning a hole through my brain:
"Somethin' about the sunshine, bay-beee, seein' you in a whole new light!
LA's cool with the palm trees swayin', OOH it's so right!"

Help me.

By the way. . .

2011-03-09T08:15:00.000-08:00

Nate often begins his conversations this way. And even more often, it's something that's clearly NOT a "by the way" item. As in, "By the way, Mama, my diorama of an eastern estuary system needs to be turned in tomorrow." Oh, you mean the shoebox that has virtually nothing in it that's occupied one end of the dining room table for two weeks? This, as I was tucking him in bed at 9 p.m.

But sometimes his "By the way" comments are truly priceless. Last night, driving home children's choir practice:
"By the way, when the bus driver was early this morning? And didn't wait for us? Dad said a really, really bad word." Then he added,nodding emphatically, "But don't worry, I covered my ears. Because, whew! It was really bad."
This was followed quickly by,
"Oh, and by the way? Ms. Brainerd says I can say the 'A' word as long as I'm talking about a donkey."

OK. Good to know.

That's So Random

2011-03-04T10:50:00.000-08:00

That's the title of the sketch comedy show that Demi Lavato's character performs on Sunny With A Chance, one of Olivia's favorite shows. Not that her mother has ever watched it. Ever. Ahem.
Anyway.
It also clearly describes the thoughts that inhabit my brain on this particular Friday afternoon. You know, in addition to my work, of course.

Must remember:

1. Olivia's b-day party next month, possibly at indoor pool at the Y. Do all her friends know how to swim?

2. Order cake. Mmmmm. Cake.

3. See if M. wants to take advantage of sainted grandma babysitting tonight and go see a movie or just get a DVD, order Thai and pass out on sofa promptly at nine with mouths open. But preferably not still full of food. That would be gross.

4. Must. Clean. Entire. House.

5. Layer cake or sheet cake for O's b-day? Is 10 too old for a character cake?

6. Mmmm. Cake. My mom always loved devil's food the best. I want my Mama.

7. Gather tax stuff for meeting with CPA next week. Sigh.

8. Enter daily points on Weight Watchers site before bed. Double sigh.

9. How many points does movie popcorn have? 6? 5,000?

10. Will my hair dresser forgive me for forgetting to cancel our appointment that I don't even remember making, but apparently missed on Saturday when I got the strained, over-polite voice mail from the receptionist? Should I just move on to another salon? Or just relocate and change my name?

Random Winter Moments

2011-02-05T05:22:00.000-08:00

Here are some long overdue pics from December and January. They start with a couple of blurry shots of our beautiful church on Christmas Eve, followed by a few from Great Wolf Lodge at New Year's and lastly a shot of a gingerbread snowman made by the kids during our big snow last month. They were badly in need of a project by the second day of no school!

Twenty Eleven, A List

2011-01-10T10:22:00.000-08:00

1. My favorite part of the holidays was between Christmas and New Year's when several family members came into town to see us! My sweet aunt and uncle from Pinetown and my cousin (their daughter) from Atlanta all met up in a hotel here in Charlotte for a few days. Throw in an indoor pool and the kids thought Santa had come a second time.

2. My second favorite part was right after my family left, and I was feeling a little bummed. Then hubs surprised me by suggesting we round up the kids and head to Great Wolf Lodge for New Year's. Because he is spontaneous like that. GWL is a resort in Concord with a huge indoor waterpark. Not to be confused with the GTL (gym-tan-laundry) routine from Jersey Shore.

3. After a Whole! Entire! Week! of gruesome school and work we are now being rewarded with a bonafide snow day. About five inches fell Sunday night and it's still floating down in huge, feathery flakes.

4. The kids and I made snow cream at 10:30 a.m., one of the 8,947 ways to use condensed milk in your life.

5. Have you ever wondered how many times your average seven-yr-old can ask "Mama?" in a six-hour period? It's exactly 10,988.

6. Have you ever watched a What Not To Wear marathon with a straight dude who was seemingly waaaay more into it than you? I have. That happened.

7. Cocoa with skim milk = yums.

8. Cocoa with half-and-half = buh-bye resolutions. But it's totally worth it.

9. I went to Shari's Berries website last week and made a certain cousin of mine very happy on her birthday with a gift of chocolate strawberries and cherries. If I could've seen her face, I would've been even happier. I'm a little homesick. Sniff.

10. I'm off to make more cocoa with half-and-half. Now I'm happy again.

Sicky Saturday

2010-12-18T14:35:00.001-08:00

So I woke up today looking forward to a much-much needed Saturday in.
Icky weather, 38 degrees and sleet-rain-mix falling makes for a cozy, cookie-makin', doggie-napping-by-the-fire day.

And then.

Liv woke up with a 102-degree fever. Poor baby; she's spent most of the day in bed, watching movies and reading in between downing Tylenol and apple juice. Nate and I soldiered on with the cookie decorating but I promised to save Liv some dough so she can cut and make her own when she's feeling better.

Right now she's fast asleep and the boys are out getting haircuts. The weather improved after lunch and the youngest Pellin was getting a little stir-crazy.

Here's hoping for a healthier holiday.

Random Updates and Stuff I Miss

2010-12-03T10:29:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving 2010: Gorgeous, delicious turkey roasted to perfection by my awesome Bro In Law, Dan. As usual he and Beth were the perfect hosts and we brought along some sides. The highlight this year for my contribution was the cauliflower gratin but I'm sure the kids would say the Chex mix. Pam and Ro were also here and made it that much more special and fun. Poor Ro had emergency oral surgery the day before the biggest eating holiday of the year, but soldiered through and was as sweet as ever.

Blacktop Friday: This is what I call the Friday after Thanksgiving when you hit the road to visit family instead of hitting the stores. We travelled to Beaufort County and saw nearly all my extended fam and it was great. That, combined with an indoor pool at the hotel, well, for the kids it was some kind of nervana. We got to see their newest three-month-old cousin Josiah, at his smiley, bouncy best.

Monday after Thanksgiving: (I haven't thought of a catchy name for that one yet) We sort of came crashing down to reality. Everyone was kind of keyed up and couldn't get to sleep that night, especially Nate. He kept getting up and informing us of every bathroom trip, and every random little noise and finally he burst into sobs saying that he missed Grandpa, Uncle Dewey and Granny. He might've been just overtired but Good Lord my heart broke into a million pieces. Mark held him for a little while and told him we all missed them, and it was fine to cry about it sometimes. I rubbed his back and told him I knew how hard it was, but I promised things would look better in the morning. And, mercifully, they did.

What I miss: My dad carrying raw pecans this time of year in his pocket. I never really liked the taste of them raw myself, but I would still pick out a few when he cracked them for me. That was the most fascinating part, really. He would take two or three and crack them against eachother in his fist. I would try and try to crack them like that, but even into adulthood, I failed miserably. So, I would just hand them back to him and he would gladly oblige me.

Today I saw a fellow church member who lost her dad in early fall. I gave her a hug, and we commiserated on how kid-like, unprepared and orphaned losing a parent can make you feel, no matter how old you are. She was telling me about her little, unexpected "waves" of grief, how they always come without warning, just when things are going OK. She told me, "Yesterday I was out for a run in our neighborhood and passed some pecan trees--my dad used to carry pecans in his pocket. . ."
See, she's from the New Bern area so maybe it's a Down East Dad thing.

Those pecan-crackin' daddies were the best.

Ms. Tracy's Wild Ride

2010-10-29T18:00:00.001-07:00

My friend Dawn recently told me that for her 50th birthday her husband took her for a helicopter ride. Apparently in an effort to trump her gift I managed to get myself a ride in the ambulance in the wee hours of Thursday morning. I think she wins.

Around 4:30 or 5 Thursday morning I woke up with a stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. I hopped up out of bed to check things out in the bathroom because I guess that's where one checks such things and the room started to go black. I remember calling out for Mark. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back and Mark was kneeling over me telling me the paramedics were on their way.

Damn.

I'd have given anything not to have the ambulance come to our house and haul me out in front of the kids, but given the pain and the sudden loss of consciousness, well, it was the right thing to do. I'm so glad he was there. I remember thinking how comfy I was on my pillow and thinking, "Wow, how did Mark get me back on the bed? He's so strong," and then I got a look at the blue plaid fabric and realized I was on Wally the Wonderdog's bed. At least I picked a soft place to land, huh?

Mark told the kids what was happening and assured them that I was awake and OK and I yelled out something to them so they knew it. The medics arrived and whisked me off to the ER as my blood pressure was pretty low and continued to drop a few points on the way. After all that drama and a lot of tests and an ultrasound, it turned out to be a ruptured ovarian cyst---nothing serious.

My mother-in-law had come to the house and treated the kids to breakfast before school. Mark called the school as soon as I was released to let the kids know I was on my way home and that I was fine. When they got home they threw down their bookbags, piled on the sofa next to me and told me how much they loved me for the next hour. It was weird, and wonderful. Then Anna Marie came by to play and they immediately forgot I existed and ran outside. Ah, back to normal.

So now we're back to discussing the important things in life: Halloween costumes and who has the best candy on our street. As for me, I'm done with the scary stuff for awhile!

Last weekend recap

2010-10-24T16:32:00.001-07:00

Friday marked Olivia's first venture into wearing "real" earrings. She opted for these cool, colorful danglies.

A very poor photo of two very excited campers. This was the morning of drop-off at Chameleon's Journey, an overnight adventure camp sponsored by Hospice for kids who've suffered a loss.

Olivia hula-hooping at the drop-off/meet & greet. Homegirl can keep this up for about seven minutes straight. Amazing.

The view about 10 steps from the boys' cabin.

Olivia caught writing in her journal.

Nate chatting with a BFF he met within five minutes of arriving.

Thank you, Hospice. For everything.

Speaking of thanks. . .

We had to drop off the kids at an ungodly hour that morning, but I got up before anyone else and this lovely stuff was my breakfast, spread on top of an English muffin. It's my Aunt Sybil's pear preserves, and I was lucky enough to score a jar on my birthday the last time I visited. My Aunt Sybil is about 50 times more awesome than most people. She and my Uncle Bobby welcomed countless visitors into their home when my dad passed away back in August. She fed them, listened to their stories, entertained my children and smiled, all while quietly mourning her big brother.
Sometimes thank-you just isn't enough. But I plan to keep saying it, all the time.

This week. . .

2010-10-13T12:45:00.000-07:00

1. The kids go to Chameleon's Journey camp, sponsored by Hospice. It's a one-night camp and we drop them off on Saturday. They're just a tad excited and have already packed everything on the packing list. It is now Wednesday.

2. Olivia gets to change earrings. She got her ears pierced on Labor Day and Friday marks the last day she has to wear her starter studs. Pics will follow.

3. Someone swiped my pudding cup out of the work fridge. Today, actually. I'm still a little bummed about it. I can't believe I supposedly work with grown-ups and yet someone around here couldn't see fit to buy their own dadgum pudding cup. Sheesh. I'm telling myself that someone else brought one today and must've got it confused with their own. Which means perhaps someone stole THEIR pudding cup. Oh, my. Should I call 9-1-1?

4. Our first parent-teacher conference with Nate's teacher is Thursday. He has been scribbling stories like a little fiend in order to improve his creative writing, so we'll see how this goes.

Scenes From a Sunday

2010-10-10T13:18:00.000-07:00

Olivia sitting at my old childhood desk, which was fixed up by my Uncle Larry last Christmas. It's one of her favorite places to hang out.

Olivia's friend Mattie stayed over Saturday. They've been friends since Pre-K.

Nate tried to give the Panthers some extra mojo by wearing his Dad's old South Mecklenburg Sabers football helmet.

Reading my tea leaves at Zada Jane's. I see blueberry granola pancakes in my future.

Snapping Out of It, Slowly

2010-10-07T19:10:00.000-07:00

I dug out my camera and after silently scolding myself for the thousandth time for not taking photos more regularly, I decided to upload a few from the summer. Summer 2010 was pretty good up until the moment it wasn't, and now it's October already so I figured I'd better save some pics for prosperity to prove it even happened!

Kiddos and Grandma at Maggiano's

This was actually in the spring, when I got to meet my idol, author Elizabeth Berg, at a Catawba College book signing.

A lazy Saturday moment.

Playing nicely MUST be documented.

On a visit to Washington, NC to visit family. Luke and Nate enjoying themselves, just a little. These two knuckleheads sure do love eachother.

My dad's house is being renovated by the new owner, and he's been kind enough to let me tour the place. Wish I had some before shots, but trust me--HUGE differences, and all for the better. It's going to be a beautiful home for someone again.

A visit with sweet Cousin Corinna from Atlanta. Olivia's first night in America was spent at her house, after she picked us up from the airport. They share a special bond.

Happy cousins Luke, Nate and Olivia on the boardwalk in Washington.

Liv holding Uncle Larry's camera. Off camera, her mommy is holding her breath.

My little mermaid.

Pretty pink Washington sunset.

Back home in Charlotte, Ethan and Nate share an Ipod moment.

Nate's seventh birthday on July 1 started out with chocolate chip waffles presented by his sister. . .

and ended with chocolate cake at Counter Burger. Not bad.

Here's Liv at tennis class last week, working on her serve.

That's it for now! Onward with 2010. It's getting better.

Random Notes

2010-09-22T07:11:00.000-07:00

1. Feeling a little out of it today. As was the case with my mom, the intense part of my grief process was delayed. It's been about a little over a month and now the wave has really hit me. Crying into my pillow at night, the whole bit. I know I need to pick up the phone and call Hospice grief support but at the same time I know I need to just let myself feel it. I think the last five years are finally catching up with me. It seems that once I caught my breath over what happened to my mom, my dad's downward spiral started before I had a chance to look up. The unfairness of it all---the unfairness to my dad, my mom, my kids and myself makes me feel so unbelievably furious. And just sad. And utterly helpless.

2. Work is a killer right now; my boss is in the middle of a much-needed vacation and as usual, I have even more respect for what she does everyday now that she's gone.

3. Hopefully this weekend I'll get over myself and enjoy our neighborhood yard sale. The kids are jacked up about selling off some of their stuff to make some cash. I told them not to get too excited about the amount, because this is stuff that we were going to donate so anything we make will be a bonus. Olivia was rambling about buying a Barbie Dream House with her proceeds so I had to give her a little dose of reality. Sheesh.

4. We just had the floors in our downstairs den/play area redone and whoo boy, what a difference. We bit the bullet and went with hardwoods and I'm so glad we did. It warms the room and brightens it at the same time; makes coming home that much nicer.

5. Last night I made my Aunt Sybil's chicken casserole and we had my mother-in-law over. She loved it and of course I ate until I was miserable. That casserole just tastes like home to me---it made me miss my sweet aunts, uncles and cousins even more.

6. I'm torn between enjoying this "Indian Summer" and being so ready for fall I can't stand it.

7. More updates, long overdue photos from the summer and hopefully MUCH less whining will be coming soon.

Letting Go, and Goodwill

2010-08-29T13:03:00.001-07:00

Two weeks ago today I was blissfully savoring the last precious hours of our family beach vacation. My dad had finally been stable for several weeks, eating well (all puree, but still) and taking in adequate fluids.
Then, the next day, we got a nervous call from Jimmy, and then the Hospice nurse, who told us that she felt my dad was "transitioning."

We came home, and he was gone within two days.

I'm thankful to Hospice, who ensured his passing was peaceful, and of course to Jimmy and Jonas, who ensured his last months were lived with dignity.

We headed home to Beaufort County and a lovely service performed by my cousin. I got to meet so many of Daddy's high school classmates, co-workers and friends who came to pay their respects. The kids held up pretty well, but breaking the news to them that first morning was beyond difficult.
Silly me, I thought we had somewhat prepared them, considering how sick Dad was, but kids don't really know to brace themselves for something like this. So they sobbed, and we held them and told them how much he loved them, and that now he could be with Granny and not be sick anymore.

That night when they were saying their prayers, Nate said he hoped Grandpa could find a friend in Heaven who would show him around, since he was new there. Olivia said, "Grandpa, I hope you and Granny can continue your romance in Heaven."
I couldn't help myself.
"Uh, romance?" I asked her. "What made you say that, Honey?"
"Well, they're MARRIED, Mama!" she said.
Oh. Ok.
I didn't tell her how funny that was, because to most people the word "romance" is not what they think of when they think of my sometimes-stern, dry-witted Dad.

I returned to work last Tuesday but the past several days have still felt kind of surreal. Our neighbors and friends have been so good to us, bringing dinners and other treats. My sainted mother-in-law not only drove to Beaufort County with us but she and Beth pitched in Friday and took the kids off our hands--Nate and Ethan with Grandma and Olivia at Emma's. Mark and I seized the opportunity to go catch a movie (Winter's Bone) and have a cocktail or two.

Meanwhile, I've also been hopelessly indulging the kids, along with everyone else. I guess I'm just so glad they're here.
Anyway, they were along for the ride this morning when I dropped some things of Dad's at Goodwill, and they begged to go inside the store. Usually I say no, but that word seems to be escaping me these days so in we went. Fifteen minutes later we were the proud owners of a $1.00 plastic animal hospital toy, which they scurried upstairs to play with as soon as we got home.

I checked with Jimmy a moment ago to see how he was doing; he said he was OK, helping his aunt fix some things around the house today. It feels weird not to text him umpteen times a day to check my dad's status. At least we know he's agreed to be part of our lives, whether he likes it or not. :)

Tomorrow's Monday. Sigh. Baby steps.

Dennis Woodrow Boyd, Jr.

2010-08-18T18:18:00.001-07:00

August 14,1942--August 18,2010

The Embarrassment of Olivia, Part One of Many

2010-07-24T12:46:00.000-07:00

Today marked the second time this summer I've practically burst into tears at a kid's movie.
Toy Story 3? The little montage that shows Andy growing up dragging his beloved Cowboy Woody everywhere through the years? Couldn't handle it. I sobbed so loudly at one point that when the kids looked at me I tried to act like a piece of popcorn went the wrong way and started coughing and sputtering.

It didn't end there, folks. Today I took Olivia and her friend Elizabeth to see Beezus and Ramona.
A little background: Like most kids of the '70's and '80's, I grew up with Beverly Clearly (and also a little Judy Blume, but THOSE were hidden under the bed).
The Ramona series was laugh-at-loud funny but also interwoven with some hard life lessons that were written earnestly but magically just short of totally bumming out the kid reader.

One of my favorites was "Ramona and Her Father" in which Ramona's dad is forced to spend more time at home after losing his job. Ramona and her sister Beezus forge a deeper bond with their dad, but they're also keenly aware that he'd rather be working. They also try to get him to stop smoking by hanging "No Smoking" signs all over the house, which is something I tried with my own dad. It worked in the book. At my house, not so much.

The movie threw in a few scenes from nearly all the books, and I absolutely adored it. The film opened with showing the school bus letting off Ramona and Howie, at their stop on Klickitat Street, and I nearly lost it. I couldn't help welling up. For me, Ramona came at a time when I was coming into my own as a reader, finding a character I could identify with, laugh at and love. It was also a time when my mother's arms were tanned, smooth and capable, my dad was the strongest guy in the world and nothing could ever, ever happen to them.

This time when I choked out a little sob, I heard this very subtle, "Mom" emitting from my daughter. I looked over and her eyes were wide with horror. "Sorry, Honey," I muttered, and sucked it up. Because, experiencing Beverly Cleary's written words as a kid and then getting to watch it unfold in film with your OWN little girl- --well, that's a very, very good thing indeed.

Seven Things for Nate

2010-07-07T18:39:00.000-07:00

1. On July 1,2010 you turned seven!

2. And have I mentioned. . .on July 1, 2003 you finally emerged after being taken by force. You were eight days late. I forgive you.

3. Your party is this weekend, nine days after your actual birthday, because no one is ever in town the weekend of your actual birthday. You just HAD to be born the week of the fourth, huh?

4. Breakfast is your favorite, so your sister came up with the idea of surprising you with chocolate chip waffles and fruit kabobs on July 1. The same chick who calls you annoying 99 times a day also planned that dadgum breakfast for DAYS. Go figure.

5. You enjoy your corn cut off the cob these days, as you're a little front-tooth challenged.

6. You love Pinetown every bit as much as Charlotte.

7. We love you all the way to Pinetown a bazillion times and back.

Father's Day

2010-06-20T17:42:00.000-07:00

So, a great morning that started with M opening gifts from us and having a big waffle breakfast. Church was pretty wonderful too; Olivia got to show off her mad acolyte skillz last week and this week she gave Emma a little tutorial and she had her turn. Very sweet.
The afternoon, however, was a little. . .mixed. The kids and I went over to see my dad to give him a card and some homemade cupcakes. I also have a photo collage in the works to put by his bed but it wasn't ready yet. So we went over and he was dressed nicely as usual, thanks to Danny, the newest of our three caregivers.

But, here's the thing. Due to the Parkinson's, or the Alzheimer's, or whatever evil I can blame this thing on, my dad is losing his ability to speak. He can gurgle the occasional word or two, but mostly he just stares. He tries to smile when he sees the kids, and he reaches out for them---they still snuggle up to him, God bless their hearts. I love them so much it hurts sometimes, I swear.
I often think how this must be so scary for them, seeing someone they remember as being so strong and capable turn into someone they barely recognize.

Or maybe, it's just scary for me.

Because these two children that I live with, the same ones who can drive me straight up a wall, the same ones who I nearly offered up for sale yesterday at the Farmer's Market when they whined for a drink two seconds after we were out of the car---they're not afraid. To them, he's just Grandpa, and he's sick but he's still kissable and huggable and worthy of all their Sunday School artwork.

The fact that I may never hear my dads voice again---and God, right now I'd even settle for him on his grumpiest days, days when he was telling us all to go to hell---this makes me want to scream. But seeing these two munchkins climb on their grandpa like the old days, makes me think I can hold it in another day.

Leaving This Place

2010-05-29T09:08:00.000-07:00

Last October I visited my dad's house, the house I grew up in, to say goodbye. I've come across these photos in my camera dozens of times since then, but I haven't really felt like sitting down to pore over them just yet. It's still a tender spot.

I could be all dramatic and say that our family farm was one more sacrifice to the gaping jaws of Alzheimer's, you know, if I was into that sort of thing. If I was into saying that sort of thing, it would be true.

I hated doing this. Selling the house and surrounding farmland was necessary in order to ensure my dad has quality care for the rest of his life. More specifically, to ensure that we have Jimmy, and at least two others like him, for the rest of Daddy's life.

I know, I know. At least we had something to sell. At least we had a family member, also a farmer, willing to make a fair offer right away. At least I'll still get to go back and visit family, and drive by and show the kids the woods that I played in, and the backyard that they themselves also ran wild in until dark, gathering fireflies in jars. I wonder if they'll remember.

Here's what I used to envision: The kids would one day learn to drive a tractor, tutored by my dad. They'd also learn how to steer a fishing boat, and set flounder nets in the Pamlico Sound. I never really learned how to do those things; doing stuff in the kitchen with my mom was more fun. But they would have loved it. I know it.

But here's the kicker: they'll still get a chance. Even though I was an only child, my parents, mercifully, were not. I'm the grateful kin of many aunts, uncles and cousins who would be happy to show Liv and Nate all the wonders of country and river life as they grow older. They have so much to look forward to, and I can't wait to witness it all.

Here's a few pictures I snapped during that weekend in October.

My dad's workshop, the site of many family gatherings and holiday oyster roasts

The view from behind the shop

I love being home at harvest time.

During the Alzheimer's charity walk with Uncle Bobby and Aunt Sybil

Pop-up Baby Rhynn.

Feasting on Parker's Barbecue on our way home to Charlotte.

Random updates. . .

2010-04-03T12:44:00.001-07:00

Current state of Olivia: She's about to break her mother's heart by turning nine. Nine! How could she? She's about to pop a gasket with excitement. There's a sleepover party planned. (sigh--I finally caved). I've been avoiding the inevitable slumber party for a couple years now, but we figured we'd better go ahead and let this happen BEFORE having the carpet in the den replaced. Clever, huh?

Current state of Nate: Loving little league again this year. His team has green uniforms and they elected to call themselves the "Leprechauns"---heh. Not exactly a name that strikes fear in the hearts of their opponents, but eh, whatevs. They're adorable 6-year-olds, whether they like it or not. To his great relief, Nate's been invited to spend the night with his cousin Ethan during the Big Sleepover.

Current state of Casa Pellin: We're OK. As usual, we have grand plans for the yard that may or may not come to fruition depending on the bank account and whether or not we even remember what we'd planned. :)
Today we did some yard work, then we all showered and decided to go splurge on a nice lunch. We hit this new place called "The Counter" over at Southpark, where you can get burgers cooked to order, and awesome fries and onion rings. Deeelish. We sat on the patio and basked in the afternoon rays and soft breezes.

Tomorrow after church we'll swing by my dad's so he can see the kids decked out in their Easter duds. The kids have a little basket for him with various goodies that I know he'll enjoy. If nothing else, the chocolate will guarantee us a few peaceful moments with him. These days, a snacking Grandpa is a pleasant Grandpa.

Right now I'm trying to decide if we should have lettuce leaves for dinner since we had an unusually big lunch or if I should bother to put together an actual meal. Hmmmm. We went a little crazy with dyeing eggs---maybe egg salad? To be continued. . .at the moment the kiddos are furiously working on some artwork to leave the Easter Bunny, Hubs is banging out an article on his laptop and Jack Johnson is wafting from the stereo. Nice. Not a bad way to start the weekend before spring break.

Winter Dixieland

2010-02-13T08:20:00.000-08:00

Ahhhh, is there anything more gratifying than a full, piping hot cup of coffee, a fully charged laptop and a blanket of snow outside the window? I think not, people.

So yesterday at about 4 p.m. we actually started to get some more of the white stuff---when there is frozen participation falling from the sky outside a southern office building, well it's a hilarious site. Well-educated business-types clammer over to the window in their high-heeled pumps just to get a glimpse. Add to that the excitement over the fact that it was Friday afternoon, and you've got yourself a totally giddy atmosphere.

Last night happened to be the night that Hubs was an overnight host for Room In The Inn at our church, a program that takes in overflow from the men's shelter uptown and puts them up in church basements and such. It's usually a good time, he enjoys listening to the men's stories and sharing some of his own, and the other church volunteers feed everyone well. But when the snow continued to pile up the kids and I were a little concerned about how Daddy would get home in the morning.

I tried to keep everyone distracted, making popcorn ordering up a rare pay-for-view movie (Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs) and breaking out the Valentine's cookies a couple days early. After the movie, though, Nate was still fretfully looking out the window, asking if we could just go get Daddy. Poor kid. No matter how much he might be a total "mini-me" of his dad on the outside, on the inside he's a natural-born hand-wringer like his mom.

Eventually everyone settled down and we watched the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics. The kids were pretty enthralled with the Parade of Nations, but then poor Liv, who has yet another cold, drifted off early. The power started flickering a little before the lighting of the torch and we ended up tromping upstairs to my room, huddling with flashlights and books. We had our own sleepover, with me sandwiched between Kicks-a-lot and Snory, respectively.

This morning I started making breakfast at around 7, and got to hear "Naaaate! Mom's making her famous doughnuts!!" Heh. Funny thing is, she KNOWS they're made with canned biscuit dough, but I still get all the credit. Eight-year-olds rock.

Hubs burst through the door just as we were shaking the cinnamon sugar onto the fried wads of dough. He was bearing some leftover breakfast casserole and snow-crusted boots. Our boy climbed him like a tree.

I checked on Jimmy and Dad last night and Jimmy assured me they were fine, albeit a little stir-crazy like the rest of us. Hopefully the roads'll improve later so I can run to the drug store for him and bring Dad our Valentine's gift of chocolate cherries (his fave) and some cards the kids made.

Oh, and those dang roads better also improve so I can get to Deejai Thai tonight. Mama needs some coconut curry shrimp!

Snow! And. . .snot.

2010-01-31T07:02:00.000-08:00

Well, we finally got a snow day even though it came on an early Saturday morning. It's an icy, crusty snow- - -perfect for sliding down the hill in the backyard at top speed and making your mother nearly faint while she watches from the window. Visions of crashing into the back fence and a trip to the ER on icy roads flash before me---I can't help it. It's how I roll.

It's all lovely to look at, but I also woke up on Saturday with the worst head cold of my forties (okay I just turned forty in September but TRUST me, it's bad). Mark and the kids are hustling in and out, alternately piling on layers and peeling them off at the back door.

Lord, but I love watching the kids play in the snow. It's amazing to watch our Liv, with all her usual bossiness towards her little brother, turn into his faithful servant out there. She gleefully pulls him around on our little plastic sled while he beams and holds on with white knuckles.
We've also witnessed her tighten the velcro on his hat's chin strap so it fits more snugly, and help him up after he's sprawled like an overturned box turtle after snow angel making.

I'm getting a little stir crazy already but I have to admit since I'm sick it would be sooo nice if my office was closed tomorrow. The kids' school is almost guaranteed to close since there's no way the buses are gonna be able to get down some of our more rural roads in the morning. Gotta love a southern school district.

I've checked on my dad and Jimmy assured me they're fine. I brought over some groceries on Friday and Jimmy also made a last-minute run Friday night while Sherwin stayed with my dad. It's good to know that even though he might be confused and a little grumpy, at least he's safe and warm and has all the Fil-Am specialties he can eat. That's Jimmy's term for Filipino-American food---apparently my dad's new fave. :)

And so 2010 begins. . .

2010-01-09T18:45:00.000-08:00

Today I found myself in a strange, yet wonderful place. My dad is now in a one-bedroom apartment close to my house, after finishing up his rehab at the skilled nursing center.
My family, Jimmy and I all decided this was the best solution for now since my dad becomes so agitated in facilities surrounded by other residents and often there just isn't enough staff to ensure that he won't fall nearly every dadgum day.

So, last week I took a couple days off and had his furniture moved from a storage room at his former assisted living center to the new digs. Jimmy and three to four other caregivers will be caring for my dad around the clock in shifts. Today, Jimmy was there with Sherwin, a young CNA graduate, also from the Phillipines, who is Jimmy's apprentice of sorts. Sherwin has also worked with my dad at the skilled nursing center as well as at Sunrise, but this will be his first time working with a patient in a private home.

Today the kids and I stopped by to drop off some prescriptions and groceries and check in with Dad. Nate was still in his Tae Kwon Do uniform after his Saturday morning class and he proudly showed Sherwin some of his "moves." Turns out Sherwin knows a little karate, and within minutes, the two of them were playfully wrestling around, with Nate laughing so hard his face turned bright red. Guys just don't need ice breakers, I guess.

Meanwhile Liv chatted with my dad a bit, who was looking rather spiffy in one of Mark's old Nautica sweaters. I peeled a tangerine for him and he nibbled it while he calmly watched the kids play. Jimmy had some soup cooking on the stove and it smelled delicious; he told me it was mostly cabbage, with some carrot, onion and a bit of pork for seasoning. Maybe it was the pork, but it smelled pretty much like anything else my grandmother would've boiled on the stove.
I made a sandwich for the kids and Dad and while they ate Jimmy served up a bowl of the soup and put it alongside Dad's sandwich. He then slowly and deliberately ate every bite.

I watched this scene with a mixture of awe and amusement. Here was my dad, who in years past would never even touch Chinese food, now eating a Filipino-inspired dish with his peanut-butter and jelly sandwich in a little kitchen in Charlotte. Meanwhile, my kids were sprawled on the floor watching "I Robot" with Will Smith, with their new long-lost friend Sherwin, 20 years their senior and from an island 2,000 miles away.

Sometimes it just blows me away, the places life takes us. I mean, it really blows my freakin' mind. I'm feeling hopeful about this change, but as always, I have my fingers crossed. Always.

Christmas time ,and catch-up time

2009-12-24T12:58:00.001-08:00

Lots of things to journal about later; we've got some big changes coming up. But for now here's some random pics from November and December.

Here's Liv backstage at the American Girl show, waiting to go on.

Another backstage shot; that's about $3,000 worth of American Girl dolls in the background!

Time to strut! Liv showed a confidence I've never quite seen before; she was having a blast.

Exiting the stage with cousin Emma.

Here's Nate, er, enjoying the show.

Perusing the menu at Cabo Fish Taco.

One happy hot chocolate girl at Zada Jane's Cafe last weekend.

And oh yes she did drink every drop!

Our waitress noticed I popped a Sudafed with my water, and she brought me my coffee in this! Love that place.

Well that's it for now! Have a wonderful holiday!

Thanksgiving 09

2009-11-26T19:37:00.000-08:00

The good:
1. Dan's turkey, as always, was succulent and perfect.
2. My appetizers (baked brie, along with spinach-artichoke dip) were a hit, as well as the sweet corn and rolls that I always bring. There was also a buttery, crispy, custardy sweet potato casserole made by Pam, and my sis-in-law's stuffing and MIL's mashed potatoes and gravy. . .all scrumptious.
3. The company---Aunt Ro, Pam, my sweet MIL, brother and sis-in-law and our respective kidlets.
4. Surprise sleepover- - -Liv and Nate got invited to crash tonight with their cousins, one of their very favorite things in the world to do.
5. Watching Planes, Trains and Automobiles. . .or at least the first half-hour, before an impromptu mini-turkey-coma.
6. Talking with J, my dad's private aid today about the impending move to a small apartment with 24-hour care. It feels good to have a new plan, even though it might not be perfect. The kids gave J a Thanksgiving card and made my dad a paper turkey, which I put on his bedside table.

The bad:
1. My dad's back in the skilled nursing facility but now he has pneumonia. Last night they called to let me know he had a fever and this morning when I went by he was on oxygen and antibiotics. When his Thanksgiving lunch came J and I fed him little bites until he ate around half. He chewed very slowly without opening his eyes. I was so worried that he'd get dehydrated again; I kept feeding him sips of his iced tea and water with a spoon until they were both nearly gone. Tonight when I went by again his fever had gone down but they're still concerned about his breathing so they may end up having to send him back to the hospital by morning. Sigh.
2. I'm starting to wonder if the Lexapro that I'm taking has stopped working. . .or maybe I'm just naturally a little bummed and should just let myself feel it.
3. We finally got someone out to give us an estimate on getting laminate or hardwoods in our living room and were informed that the moisture level in our crawlspace is too high for them to guarantee the work; they're afraid the wood would warp or buckle. They recommended an inspecter to find the underlying cause of the humidity. . .yikes. I really don't want to know.

The ugly:
1. Did I mention the pneumonia thing?
2. Did I mention the social worker at the nursing home? Oh,yeah. Yesterday.

The uncertain:
1. Olivia announced she wants to get her hair cut very short TOMORROW so she can donate it to Locks of Love. That was the plan initially, but I thought she was going to wait until spring. Oh, well- - -a couple months ago I would've rejoiced at this decision but she looked so darned cute with her curly ponytail last week. But, the harsh reality is I don't have the time or talent to do the curly ponytail for her everyday, and she's so active and hates spending time on her hair herself right now, so. . .I guess we'll see!
2. I'm going to check on my dad's apartment application next week; I'm going to rehearse the phone call in my head so that I don't sound desperate.

Seething

2009-11-25T13:51:00.000-08:00

The last couple of days have not been the greatest. My dad is back in the hospital, after what seems like his one thousandth fall. It baffles me that this continues to happen, but the severe memory impairment combined with just enough strength to stand up out of one's wheelchair when one's legs are like Jello. . .well, it's a crappy combo.

Miraculously, he hasn't broken anything. I'm thankful for that.
The fact that he was slightly dehydrated upon entering the hospital, after being in a supposedly high-level care facility? So dehydrated that a low-dose of sedative to calm him down put him out cold for nearly 19 hours? Yeah. . . I'm feeling less than thankful for that.

So the hospital felt he could go home today but didn't want to release him to the skilled nursing center because they felt it wasn't safe for him after so many falls; they felt he needed to be in a secured memory unit.
You know, like the one at Sunrise. Where he also fell. A lot. Great.

So I told the nice social worker at the hosptial about my family's plan to move my dad to a retirement community apartment with round the clock private care. The problem is, the ground unit that we want isn't available until January.

I'm about to come out of my skin with impatience. I want him out of that facility YESTERDAY, but I'd like him to be in this particular complex since it's close to me, the utilities are included in the rent and he'd have lots of folks his own age for neighbors. So. . .we'll see.

In the meantime, the skilled nursing facility is willing to "let" my dad come back there IF he has round the clock private care because, as their social worker put it, "they just can't be liable for another one of your dad's falls." OH! And also, she also informed me that she knew the manager of these retirement apartments very well and she didn't think this lady would want to "take a chance on having someone who could have a serious accident on the property. In fact, Tracy, I'm not sure if our Dr. here will release him to go live there."

I'm not a yeller. I hate yelling. Frankly it makes me tired, and I feel terrible afterwards. But this poor nursing home social worker picked the wrong ticked off, over-caffeinated, sleep-deprived, only child to pick on today.

Someone, I guess it was me, but it didn't really sound like me, proceeded to tell this lady something like this: "REALLY?? You don't think YOUR Dr., who's seen him maybe ONCE will agree for him to live there?! Well, considering that my father showed up at the hospital yesterday dehydrated and with a slight concussion after being in YOUR facility, I don't think my father's REAL Dr. will have a problem with me taking him ANYWHERE ELSE BUT THERE."

Then, of course, I apologized. Like a wimpy,snivelling weasel. I told her that I knew she was just doing her job, but my family and I were just trying to do what was best and right now the best thing seems to be to take a break from facilities for awhile and just work things out between Jimmy and a couple other private caregivers.
She proceeded to babble about how she didn't meant to discourage me, she only meant to ENcourage me. . .she was suddenly Jesse Jackson. Whatever.

So now I'm at the mercy of shelling out more of my dad's once hard-earned money to pay for round the clock private care WHILE HE'S IN A SUPPOSED CAREGIVING FACILITY. Oh, and they all charge time and a-half for the holiday, naturally.

Damn. Sorry, Pastor Trevor. I hope you don't read this. Hell and damn. Also, shit. Also, crap. Also, cocksucker. That one's for the social worker. Encouraging enough for ya? Yeah.

There are so, so many things I'm thankful for, but the last 24 hours- - -well they just sucked.

I love you, Daddy. Please, please stop falling down, OK?

Now I'm going to go by the nursing home to lay eyes on my dad for a minute before going home, collapsing on the sofa and making hubs watch Moonstruck with me.
Watching Cher drink champagne by the fire after her little shopping spree always puts me in a better mood. . .

Ch-ch-ch-changes. . .turn and face the strange

2009-11-18T19:23:00.000-08:00

>
So, it seems that just because my dad may not be fully aware of every event in his life, his life still evolves and changes just like anyone else's.
Due to a series of recent falls, he's now in a skilled nursing facility until he's more steady on his feet and can returned to "an assisted living environment." His Dr., the hospital social worker and I came to this decision after the most recent tumble and subsequent overnight hospital stay. My dad had stood up out of his wheelchair unassisted, which is a no-no, and took a header on the bricks of the courtyard outside Sunrise.

He's in a wheelchair part of the time these days, but he can walk pretty well either with assistance or if he's holding onto the wall railing at the nursing home. My question is, can a person with severe memory impairment REMEMBER that he's not supposed to stand up out of his wheelchair and walk without help? Well, no. He can't. Sigh. Even my sweet, positive-thinking Dawn, who has years and years of experience with Alzheimer's patients, has told me that the falls are going to happen in nearly any type of caregiver situation as long as my dad's still ambulatory. Double sigh.

But, we still have our dear J, his private aide who comes a few times a week. And Dad and I still have our moments together; I bring him Pepsis and Little Debbie cakes and his grandbabies.

Meanwhile, we're in the midst of one of the more spectacular autumns that I can remember. I find myself looking up at the trees all the time, even when I really, really shouldn't (like when I'm oh, behind the wheel of the van)!

Halloween was fun, even though poor Liv was sick with what started as a cold but turned into pneumonia a week later. She had a slight fever and sore throat on Halloween night, and had to stay in except for a quick pity trip to a few close neighbors' houses for candy.

Here are some pics:

Very scary transformer with my husband's eyes threatens us with a Kit Kat in each hand.

The grumpy mermaid was not amused.

Wally the Wonderdog protects hearth and home.

Mirror, mirror. . .Liv gets her first salon up-do for the American Girl fashion show rehearsal (the actual big show is Nov. 21).

Why are my feet cold? And why are there wet, yellow leaves on my front steps? What? It's OCTOBER, you say?

2009-10-07T03:34:00.000-07:00

October is a perfect time to discuss September!

September '09 launched my body,however unwillingly, into its fourth decade on this fine planet. There were a few other milestones, too, and I managed to capture some in pictures. Of course, there were many moments that unfortunately were not recorded for prosperity. Like the five whole nanoseconds that my minivan was clean, September 14 I think it was. Or the day I was actually able to blowdry my hair the exact same way as my stylist. You know, the important stuff. OH, and one tragic incident involving Wally dressed in an Americal Girl nightgown. Let's just say the culprit was apprehended and dealt with. Our poor Wally, however, may still need some intense canine therapy.

This is how my birthday started. Yes, that's a diaper. On a balloon. My team's way of showing their love.

But there were also these. . .

and later, one of these. A Senor Tequila masterpiece.

And here we are together with hubs. Look out, Charlotte--oldies on the loose!

Other random September moments. . .

The most stubborn wiggly tooth in history finally succombs to its fate---in a bouncy house outside a BBQ restaurant while staying with Grandma! Mom and Dad were busy sipping the Midori Margaritas in the above photo. The tooth fairy still visited, but alas, the tooth itself was never recovered. We've since had to convince the Nater that the tooth fairy only brings FIVE DOLLARS for the first tooth. Hey, we've got to have something left for college.

Outside Barnes and Noble--photo by Grandma.

Perusing Grandma's purchases like possums.
One evening while the boys went camping, this lovely lady was my dinner date. She's cute, but she talks a lot.

I'll try to recall July. . .as we say goodbye to August!

2009-08-29T15:49:00.000-07:00

To say that summer whizzed by is a huge understatement. The hugest. Wait, is that a word? Anyway. It whizzed all right, and here I am, about to give a July recap when it dawns on me that it also happens to be freaking AUGUST 29th!! School has already started back (and the work-from-home dads and moms say whoop-whoop)!

July was a blissful blur that involved us joining the local pool,Nate turning six (complete with a bash at My Gym play center), making homemade ice cream, eating homemade pico de gallo and guacamole two or three times a week. Near the end of the month, my dad had a great visit with his new neurologist and then promptly went into the hospital the next morning after suffering a seizure. Turns out seizures sometimes occur in a small percentage of advanced Alzheimer's patients. Lucky him, huh? He was in the hospital for about a week and a-half, then returned to Sunrise.

After he got settled back in, we grasped the opportunity to go to the beach for a few days and reconnect. It was wonderful. We hit Brookgreen Gardens at Murrell's Inlet for the first time ever- -what a magical place. All that beautiful art existing with nature. Gorgeous. Our guide was named Millie, a lovely little pixie-haired lady with silvery hair, dangly turquoise earrings and bright red lipstick. When she was showing us the aviary, she stuck out her index finger and a luminous, blue-green dragonfly perched right on it. She smiled down at the kids. "He does that nearly every time." Olivia was enraptured, and so was I. We'd follow Millie anywhere!

The morning after the beach trip, a Sunrise nurse called to let me know my dad was having trouble breathing. Back to the ER; this time, pneumonia. Poor Dad. He hadn't had a chance to really recuperate yet, and here he was again, flat on his back in a place where every morning he was surrounded by strangers, even if he'd seen them a dozen times the day before. I had to chuckle one night when I was visiting and the Dr. dropped in. "Tracy!" my dad rasped. "Fix the man something to eat!"
"Um, are you hungry, Dr. Manet?" I asked, smiling.
"No,no, I'm quite all right," he answered.
"Well," my dad replied--"I just thought she might want to DO something instead of sittin' there."

Yeah.
I sure wish I could do something, too.

Anyway. This time he was in for a week and now he's back at Sunrise again, in a wheelchair for now, until his legs get stronger. He's getting physical, occupational and speech therapy several times a week to help him along.

This summer has also found me in the movie theater! Twice! Being married to Mr.-Wait-For-DVD, this is quite an unusual sitchiation. In July, Pam and Ro came to visit and Pam, Beth and I all went to see The Proposal. I'm usually not one for chick flicks but I have to admit this one made me laugh out loud. Then in early August my Dawn went with me to see Julie and Julia and I swear---one of the best films I've ever, ever seen. Nora Ephron might've taken some liberties with Child's actual history, but---who cares?? After watching it, I felt truly priveleged to have done so. And hungry. I mean, Beef Bourginon? Chocolate mousse? Maine lobster? Total tummy porn.

Random update time:
What's on the night stand: Earthly Delights by Kerry Greenwood. This chick is awesome---an Austrailian mystery writer, Greenwood conjured up one of the funniest, most fascinating characters ever. Corinna Chapman, a baker in Melbourne, who describes her 4 a.m. morning routine in such a way that actually makes the reader want to be awake with her, turning on the ovens, starting the coffee and mixing the raspberry white chocolate muffins.

What's for dinner: Shredded chicken tacos. Super easy for a busy Saturday. Four chicken breasts in the crockpot with a jar of salsa verde, cook on low for six hours, then shred with two forks. Taco time!

Current state of Nate: Growing, growing, growing. His legs are growing so much, they sometimes throb, something I remember going through as a kid. So, I rub them, and think of how they used to be little Michelin-man chunky baby legs.
He started first grade on Tuesday, and loves it so far. Tonight he explained compound words in between bites of taco.

Current state of Olivia: Lovely, tan, long-limbed and chatty. Loving third grade. Almost as much as we're loving her.

Our second adoption

2009-06-21T19:01:00.000-07:00

Despite our inner little voices telling us we should wait until "things calm down" a bit around here. . .

Despite the fact that we have two hungry little punks around here already. . .

Despite all that, we were simply in need of a few more smiles around these parts.

So, we started the paperwork process about a month ago and then, suddenly, we were fast-tracked into becoming a household of five.

What can we say? The heart wants what it wants. And life, with its never-ending twists and turns, will keep happening. There's never a "perfect time" for anything, and postponing joy is typically advised against, isn't it?

Our new little Pellin isn't a newborn; at two and a-half he's already potty trained! He also adores his brother and sister and trust me, the feeling is quite mutual. He's a blonde, brown-eyed cutie. Oh, and he has the cutest little beard.

Because he's part terrier.
And dachshund, too.

And did I mention photogenic?
Meet Wally. June just beat May by a landslide.

Farewell, May. It's been real. And fun. But not real fun.

2009-05-31T16:26:00.000-07:00

This past week has been a roller coaster and NOT the fun kind. My dad has been back at Sunrise (the assisted living center) since his release from the hospital about two weeks ago.
HowEVER. . . since coming back I've received countless phone calls to come calm him down for various reasons, and we've experienced one overnight hospital stay for observation, which left me crawling numbly into bed at 2 a.m. with a presentation to give at work just hours later.

With the advice of the Sunrise staff, we've worked out a schedule with another private aide who fills in the gaps when our wonderful J can't be there due to his other caregiving assignment. So, someone will be with him one-on-one from morning until bedtime for at least the next seven days or until he adjusts to his most recent medication change. An expensive proposition, but I have to say I've enjoyed the last couple of days with no nightly phone calls!

Things were starting to simmer down on that front when Olivia woke up Friday morning with a 103-degree fever. Hubs took her in to Dr. Will and he diagnosed her with the flu---the real deal. He gave her a nasal-swab test and it was positive immediately. Poor, sweet girl. She was so pitiful looking--her poison ivy still hasn't completely cleared up in some spots and now this. I'm guessing May 2009 won't go down as her best month ever.

She's taking an anti-viral prescription which seems to be working; she's been able to keep her fever down all day for the first time since Friday. She's currently up in her room watching Bedtime Stories on the portable DVD player, cackling away. I never thought I'd say this but thank God for Adam Sandler. Hubs got her a new Nintendo DS game today but we're saving it for tomorrow since she has to be out of school for at least a couple of days next week.

Here's hoping for a bright, shiny June!

Thank you, pushy-sweet flower lady

2009-05-16T12:04:00.000-07:00

There's a fairly large farmer's market on the corner near the hospital. I've visited many times, pre- or post-visit. I don't always buy something, but my favorite booth is one occupied by a Korean family selling some of the most beautiful flowers I've ever seen, especially the peonies. You just don't see peonies everday, and since their blooming period is so short I feel obligated to pay homage. Which is to say, I bury my face in them whenever I walk by- - -no one seems to mind. I can't resist. They pull at me with their moth-wing fluffiness, their light, yet heady scent of summer to come.

The other day I was doing my usual sniff and smile routine when the flower lady noticed the big plastic Carolinas Medical Center cup in my hand. "You sick? I hope not, right?" she asked--half sympathetic, half cautionary. "No," I assured her. "Just visiting my dad today." With that, she plucked one of the biggest blooms from her $10 bundles and thrust it at me: "You take! For your mama, OK?"

"No, I couldn't--it's actually my dad. . .you see, my mom is um," (meanwhile the lady looks puzzled and slightly wounded, a look I remember my grandmother giving me if I refused a fourth piece of fried chicken). "OH, THANK YOU!!" I finally blurted, grasping the stem. "Your flowers are so special," I told her.
"Special like mama, right?" she said.
"Yes, exactly." I replied. And this peony sure is.

Feelin' Thrifty

2009-05-12T20:11:00.000-07:00

Today I had to go to a totally bogus diversity training seminar. Wait, did I say that? What I meant, clearly, was that while I am grateful (SO grateful) to have my wonderful job, I didn't much appreciate having to drive across town to attend an all-day training on something that frankly, is simple common sense to most working adults these days. At least in my business, which is human services. I mean, if you're remotely Archie Bunker material then a life of civil servitude isn't exactly your can of suds, right?
Anyway.
Yesterday I was griping about how I was going to have to drive even farther than usual to visit my dad in the hospital after this seminar let out when my co-worker told me there's a cool bread bakery outlet near the training site. She said when she had to go for her training she went over there at lunch and got a lot of stuff to stock the freezer for when summer begins and her kids begin to eat the cabinets, walls and general framework of her lovely home. I sensed that Co-worker was trying to distract me from my griping,which initially peeved me because I was really on a roll, but hey--it worked! I latched onto this idea and checked it out.

Here's my haul: 2 huge bags of mini bagels, one plain and one cinnamon.
2 boxes knock-off goldfish crackers (I think they're whales)
1 loaf raisin bread
1 angel food bar cake (for all the strawberries we have lately)
2 loaves whole grain bread
1 box whole grain English muffins

My total: $11.72. Not bad for all the breakfasts, pizza bagels, desserts, snacks and endless sandwiches that will spring forth from this bounty.

Oh, and the hospital visit? Today = teensy bit better.

Abuse Of Blog As Therapy. . .

2009-05-11T19:12:00.000-07:00

In an effort, yet again, to record an all-time low so that I can look back next year when things will be undoubtably BETTER:

My dad is in the hospital. The assisted-living staff and I decided to admit him a few days ago so they can get his meds regulated and hopefully find a sedative that works best for him. His agitation grows worse in the evenings, which is typical of folks with Alzheimer's, so his Dr. is working to find something that will help my dad, who is a quintessential "sundowner."

I pray every waking moment that I am doing the right thing for him. I never imagined that I would one day have the responsibility of making his choices, at least not before my 40th birthday. It's hard to concentrate on work, kids, and general everyday life when your mind is repeating the same, perpetual mantra: "Please, Lord. Please. . .please. . .please. . ."

I feel overwhelmed with this reponsibility. I wish he could come back to me for just an hour, or just a few minutes so we could really talk and he could tell me what would work best for him. What does one do when the one they used to turn to for advice is no longer able to give it?

And it is a huge, all-encompassing thing, this responsiblity. I have a responsibility to him, certainly, but also to his mother, my Granny, who's been gone five years now. Over a half-century ago she used to hold him in her arms and rock him and protect him. She kept him from toddling out too far in the fields, when everyone was outside working. She tried to keep him in the shade to protect his fair skin and was so proud when anyone admired his reddish-blond ringlets. Would she approve of the "care plan" that we've come up with? And what about my mother, who was often in and out of the hospital and hated it, knowing that my dad could care for her far better at home. Yes, there are many graves spinning in Beaufort County right now.

OK, enough with the dramatics. Now, goodbye forever! Just kidding.

I'm visiting Dad again tomorrow after work. Here's hoping for a significant improvement by then (here that, up there)? Hubs is taking the kiddos to Wendy's so I know they'll only miss me a little.

Other random notes:

Poison ivy rash update! Because I know you couldn't wait. I called my doc today and begged for more Prednisone because my prescription from last week ran out today and the vile creeping death will not die. It has crept over from my left side across my stomach, and the patch that started it all, the one on my left arm, looks like someone spilled battery acid on it. Yes, it's as awesome as you can imagine.

What's even worse is that my poor Livvi has it too. We even kept her home from school two days last week because the poor child looked like an escapee from the leper colony. But her doc upped her prescription when the rash persisted after a few days and it has almost completely cleared up, which is what I told MY doc when I so subly hinted for the same treatment. So, she had mercy on me and did just that. So now I'm so pumped full of 'roids that I could probably lift my mini van. And eat my house. But I DO NOT ITCH for the first time in a week which is a little bit blissful actually.

The State of Nate: Doing fine, had a great albeit wet field trip to Patterson's strawberry farm today and he brought home a sweet-smelling, ruby-red pint of 'em for us. Can't wait for breakfast. His kindergaren musical is Thursday and I'm putting together a Goodwill-supplied "sad clown" costume for him. It will probably be sad on many levels- - -wish me luck.

The State of Liv: Gobbling up everything in sight, including my leftover collard greens at dinner tonight. She's my Partner in Prednisone, and we're out to devour the world! After dinner she had so much energy I asked her to put it to use and pack her lunch for tomorrow. She did, and she also packed Nate's and mine too! I can't wait to try my Scooby Doo yogurt tube.

The State of Casa de Pellin: We've achieved a new layer of filth. The dust bunnies and the crumbs are taking over. Hubs says he'll channel the kid energy tomorrow, with a little help from a bribe trip to the dollar store. Whatever works.

Because It's Mother's Day, and that means ME. . .

2009-05-10T16:48:00.000-07:00

. . . I started my day opening gifts from hubs and kids, some were sweetly homemade and some decidedly not, like the bottle of '06 Franciscan Cabernet. Mmmmm. I decided it would be bad form to crack it open before 9 a.m.

. . .I sat in church and breathed in the smell of polished wood, peonies, and love.

. . .I spent the afternoon planting two blueberry bushes, a gift to me from me. Now I'm giving them their privacy so they can go forth and cross-pollinate.

. . .I made a huge pot of collard greens for dinner, just the way I like them: shamelessly overcooked into silky, smoky goodness with the help of a hunk of salty bacon.

. . .I decided to adopt Ms. O'Hara's school of thought: That other worry will have to wait til tomorrow.

Happy Mother's Day to all you moms, and those of you are missing your mom, or who got to have fun with your mom today, or for those of you who just have a mother's heart. :o)

It Sucked, Then I Cried

2009-05-05T19:42:00.001-07:00

The above title is the actual name of a book I saw today at Books A Million. It summed up my day so beautifully, I almost cried. Again. Because my day did indeed totally suck.
Allow me to explain:
6 a.m.--I woke up to find that the teeny, minor poison ivy rash on my left arm had migrated all the way up my side spreading up to my left. . .bra area. I realized that slathering on the calomine wasn't going to work if I actually planned on wearing clothes to work. I made plans to call the Dr. as soon as her office opened.

7:45--Said goodbye to kids and headed out the door, grabbed a high fiber breakfast bar on the way out because yes, that's another purty issue. Realized after a few bites that it tasted like ass. The coffee was good, though.

8:30---Arrived at work and make appt. with my Dr., stood up to stretch and promptly rolled my left ankle, which instantly ballooned to the size and color of a ripe plum. I wish I had footage of me careening backwards, flopping in my desk chair and rolling out of my cubicle, though. Had to be a hoot.

9 a.m.---I actually had a good work groove going and I suddenly remembered that hubs and friends have been sweetly suggesting that if I happen to find myself in front of a Dr., I should maybe, you know, ask for a little "mother's helper" pill to you know, HELP me. I pondered this while elevating my bare left foot on the corner of my desk. I'm glad I went in for a pedicure last weekend.

1 p.m. (or, The Icing On The Crap Cake) --I'm sitting in the Dr.'s office and in the middle of her examination of my ankle and my rash, my cell phone rings. I apologize for having to answer, because it was the number from my dad's assisted living facility. It was the alzheimer's unit manager, and it wasn't good. My dad's behavior has been a little out of control the past few days and today was no exception. I tell her that I'll be right over after the appt. so we can, as she put it, "put our heads together about his future care plan." A few minutes after I get off the phone, my doc reaches for her prescription pad and introduces me to my new friend, Lexapro.

I wanted to record today's events because a year from now,I hope to look back and see that things have greatly improved. I may even laugh a little, things are so much better. Right? Right?

There were some good things too, otherwise I would've gone back to bed at lunch.
For one thing, we unintentionally celebrated Cinco de Mayo here at Casa de Pellin. I had been planning taco night anyway. Also, hubs got some excellent Pacifico beer to go with them. I like him. Also, Uncle Dew from Ohio called to say hi and when we passed the phone to Nate he sang a hilarious song on request. Something about "24 robbers at my door. . ."--I guess you had to be there. Trust me. Hilarious. Liv was also happy and we're all happy to be around Happy Liv.

But mostly? I am happy that May 5, 2009 will be history in about 45 minutes. G'night.

Random Notes From April '09--and a birthday!

2009-04-28T09:18:00.000-07:00

1. Liv shocked us all on the 20th by turning yet another year older. The great number eight was celebrated with a day at Kate's Skating rink. She had a great time with friends and family and has developed a hilarious speed-skating "hunch" when she zips around the rink. Impressive.

2. My dad is still adjusting to his new digs and after a stretch of peaceful days last week he started another roller coaster ride two days ago of bad moods and general ill temper. I'm trying not to go there with him, but it's hard.

3. One of the great things about last week was that my dad actually joined in one of the group activities(OK, he was kind of dragged by his private aide) , watching a guy who plays and sings oldies on piano. I got a text message from the aide that read "HE LIKES IT! HE HAS SMILE ON HIS FACE!"

4. The current state of Olivia: Loves Hannah Montana (or is it Miley that she loves? Can't tell), wearing dresses whenever she can, digging in the school garden, playing with Anna Marie and looking up her friends' numbers in the school directory so she can call them. She's still a little beanpole no matter how much or what she eats. I'm curious to see if that'll last through puberty! But, I can't complain--her snacks of choice lately are skim string cheese with either strawberries or grape tomatoes.

5. The current state of Nate: Still firefighter obsessed. But, since Mark and I have been watching DVD's of old "Rescue Me" episodes, I'm not so keen on the idea of my baby one day knocking down doors and getting a face full of flames. We'll see- - maybe signing him up for one of the hugely expensive science camps this summer will sway his desires. He also loves digging in his classroom garden, playing with best buds Jake and Rowan, and reading his beloved Bob Books. Oh, and playing T-ball on his league. In fact, there's a game tonight---go Knights!

6. General state of Casa de Pellin: We're OK, gearing up for the end of the school year and summer activity. Trying to decide if we have enough cash and time for a vacation this year. We're jonesing for a mini-getaway, maybe Carowinds or a weekend camping trip. Time and finances will tell.

7. What's on the nightstand: Just finished "Sleeping Arrangements" by Laura Shaine Cunningham. Moving, hilarious memoir, albeit a little too honest at times (what sometimes happened to little kids in the streets of 1950's NYC is so disturbing). The author shares the tragedies she suffered prior to age 6 that landed her in the apartment of her two sweet, intellectual bachelor uncles. These guys had no idea how to raise a little girl, but they doted on her shamelessly, often making popcorn for breakfast at her bidding. I was sad to see this one end; it was a nice escape at the end of a tough day. Next up is an offering from my cousin in Ga- - getting a passed-along book in the mail is one of life's great pleasures, I tell you. Can't wait to dig into it.

What is, is.

2009-04-11T18:52:00.001-07:00

Lately I've been thinking a LOT about things I would change, if given the power. That pesky, olive-drab carpet that came with my circa 1971 house? Poof!
Gone, replaced with lovely hardwoods. Cost? Zippo. The giant, overgrown crime-against-nature "natural area" in our backyard? Poof! Instantly, it's a lovely, weed-free garden, bursting with FREE organic tomatoes, blueberries and Dove dark chocolate bars (it's MY fantasy, OK?)
But the biggest, most important thing I would make disappear is the cruel, ugly, heartless disease that keeps stealing bits and pieces of the one thing that really, really mattered to my father. His mind. More specifically, his memory.

I can barely bring myself to use the A-word---this thing is too hideous to have such an innocent name. It doesn't deserve one. One name doesn't remotely encompass how cruel this thing is. It steals from people who deserve everything---people like my dad, who are generous, dry-witted, hard-working and capable. It doesn't care who it hurts. And so it hurts everyone. The grandchildren who don't understand, the grown children who ache for their lost parent, the friends who miss their old pal, even when he's sitting right next to them.

It's taken me months and months to realize that, unlike the carpet or the state of my lawn, this thing that's stealing my dad from me is beyond my reach. I can't totally defeat it, even though the medication that he takes can soothe the edges a bit. I needed help, and so did the extended family members who'd been caring for him back home.

My dad recently moved into an assisted living facility about two miles from my house. The experience has not exactly been smooth, but I dare say it's getting a bit less rocky. We have a private aide who comes in each day to help him get acclimated. J does everything from kindly coaxing my dad to take a shower and shave in the mornings to driving him out for ice cream in the afternoons. The other day I asked if he minded bringing my dad to meet me for lunch at a favorite seafood place.
He obliged, and even though all through the meal my dad kept calling J by the wrong name (he seems to think he's an old co-worker buddy of his) I was relieved to see he's finally treating him like a friend instead of an ever-present annoyance.

About an hour later, as I was driving back to work, I found myself wiping away tears. Again. Not an uncommon occurance for me these days, but this time something was different. I felt weird. What was it? Then it hit me. They were tears of joy. All I'd prayed for in recent weeks, if God couldn't take away this illness, was for Him to grant my dad some precious moments of peace and contentment. For so long, I'd felt my prayers had gone unanswered. But for a few splendid moments, as my dad ate his hushpuppies and smiled at me while I told him about Nate's baseball game, there it was. I recognized it. Peace.

He still has his bad days, and I'm sure there are many more to come, unfortunately. But now, I don't feel so alone anymore. And more importantly, neither does my dad.

A little Q&A for the day

2009-03-26T19:51:00.000-07:00

Q: Should you ever buy a kid a child-size set of gardening tools that have real, working metal parts?
A: Why, NO! You shouldn't. Even if they're brightly colored and kid-like and looking sooo cute out in front of the hardware store. And your kids beg for them and even pitch in some of their own money for them.

Q: Can a child-size hoe, when being used by a 7-year-old to whack a wayward piece of bamboo in the backyard, actually make a dent in the bamboo?
A: No. Not a bit.

Q: Can that same hoe create a half-inch gash in a 5-year-old's head if said 5-year-old happens to be running by during the bamboo massacre, and falls down right in the path of the adorable child-size hoe?
A: Why yes. Yes it can.

Q: Exactly how much blood spouts from a half-inch gash in the fuzzy hairline of a 5-year-old child?
A: Approximately 89 gallons. It helps if he's wearing a mostly white t-shirt, too.

Q: What do you purchase a 5-year-old out of a hospital vending machine, after the ER doc has placed two tiny staples in his head?

A: Anything. He. Wants.

Pass the Bandaids. And the wine.

2009-02-28T10:00:00.000-08:00

Work has been soooo crazy. So crazy, but I feel almost guilty complaining about it, given the state of the economy right now. What defines "crazy" in my world is being asked to do not one, but several things that are far, far out of my comfort zone, and to do them incredibly well. Then yesterday, there I was, feeling good about the fact that it was Friday and I had at least overcome the panic of having to do the other things, I get asked to do yet another incredibly uncomfortable thing- - -and at the same time as the other thing!
Once I had splashed myself in the face with my coffee (not really) and had a little cry in the ladies' room (true, but quietly)and vented to poor Mark after I got home and stomped up the stairs to change clothes (also true, though not so quietly), I finally processed through it all. Now, NEXT Friday is dangling in front of me like a carrot- - -all the bad work-related stuff will be out of the way by then, and believe me, this donkey can't wait for it to get here!
Work isn't the only hyper-nutso thing; there's also my dad's illness back home, and various other ickiness here and there. In between juggling these 900-pound balls of life, I've comforted myself with many merciful Band-Aids or quick-comforts:
Cuddling Nate in his fleece PJ's every morning.
Snuggling with Liv in the big leather chair reading American Girl books.
Watching Trust Me, The Closer or Damages with Mark after the kids are in bed.
Sipping hot coffee with half-n-half while watching the above DVR'd masterpieces.

I sure will be glad when this "hump" of triage mode is over. Band-Aids are great for the short-term, but I'm ready to be boo-boo free for awhile!

February---keepin' in real

2009-02-01T10:58:00.000-08:00

I realize I left my poor journal hanging with my last post---and yes, it actually did snow that night. We got around 3 inches in these parts and the next day was everything a snow day should be. The kids managed to sleep until a little past 7, which is miraculous considering how ramped up they were. I had already been up for nearly two hours, having sat bolt upright at 5:15 a.m. and called my work's inclement weather hotline, to see if my office was closed. And mercifully, it was. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I put on my slippers and headed downstairs to enjoy a cup or three of coffee in sweet solitude.

Later, I managed to convince the kids to postpone the sledding and micro-snowman making until after breakfast, which was indeed French toast thanks to my panic-driven trip to the store for eggs!

We dragged our little plastic sled over to the our neighbors', since their backyard has a nice slope. We had a blast for a good 45 minutes until poor Liv went down on her tummy, head first, and plowed right into the fence at the bottom of the hill. I raced down there, convinced that we weren't going to escape a winter without a trip to urgent care, but her cheek was just a little bruised. She was ready to go inside after that, though---her pride was also bruised from wiping out and then wailing in front of her friends. Poor baby. Nate went inside with us, but after a quick warm-up and some hot chocolate, he was ready to go back out. He went in and out about 49 times throughout the course of the day, determined to make the most out of every flake out there. Thank goodness Mark didn't mind going back out with him; after my feet thawed out I was reluctant to poke my tootsies back out onto the tundra.

It's hard to believe that was nearly two weeks ago, and now Februrary is here! Before I flipped the calendar page this morning, I took one long look at January. I really love January- - -it's typically a time of fresh starts, warm stews and our best shot at getting some snow. I also took a minute to reflect on how my resolutions have been holding up. Here's the short list.

Resolution: I will eat salmon and/or flax cereal at least three times a week to get more Omega 3's in my diet.

The reality: I gulp two huge fish oil capsules every morning.

Resolution: I will get up 30 minutes earlier every morning to exercise.

The reality: I bought a new comforter for the bed as a belated Christmas gift to hubs and me. It's poufy, oversized and snuggly. Also, I am apparently trapped beneath it until the snooze button has been pressed no less than 17 times.

Resolution: I will volunteer more often at the kids' school.

The reality: THIS one I can check. I have shown up three times to be "reading buddy" for some kids in Nate's class, and once in Liv's. There's nothing like seeing the teacher's face when you show up to help. Makes you feel like the calvary.

Resolution: I will figure out a way to resolve a family health crisis back home, one that will benefit everyone involved.

The reality: Fortunately, it's only February. This one could take awhile.

I smell (smeyull) snow!

2009-01-19T13:30:00.000-08:00

As a born-and-raised southern gal, I grew up fairly snow-deprived. Hubs had his share in Ohio, where, in fact, he DID actually walk to school in the snow, and often. Ask him. He'll tell you. Many times.

But now I get to watch my kids slowly realize that living below the Mason-Dixon ain't what it's cracked up to be if you want to see some white stuff. It's kind of heart-breaking.

But today. Today! Today we actually heard a bonafide forecast that includes one of those low-pressure thingies coming down from Canada, combined with just the right amount of moisture and if the planets align with Mars and the moon is exactly 3/4 full we might actually get up to FOUR INCHES OF SNOW TONIGHT, PEOPLE!!

And, of course, living up to my southern roots, upon hearing this forecast I totally freaked and bolted to the supermarket. I honestly couldn't help myself. Did we already have milk in the fridge? Yes. Bread in the breadbox? Yupper. But alas, the force was too strong. We needed eggs, because what if we were totally snowed in and wanted French toast? Huh? What then? We also needed little juice boxes because what if work closes and I want to lay in bed an extra 30 minutes and one of the kids wants juice? What then?!!

So, I went. I conquered. And now it's all put away and the kids and I are waiting. And waiting. Liv and Nate have gone from playing games to playing cards to nearly killing eachother to playing again. As for me, I don't know what's more exciting, watching the snow actually fall and stick to the ground or the sheer anticipation of its arrival.

I'd better go make some cocoa to calm my nerves. I bought some of that too.

January-The month in which everything gets organized, except my thoughts

2009-01-12T09:56:00.000-08:00

Somehow, over the last few years, January became the month when all the magazines and home shows urged us to "GET ORGANIZED!" and "CLEAN OUT THE CLUTTER!" I always seem to think they're talking directly to me, so I feel guilty if I don't at least make an attempt.

This year, however, Hubs is the one who heard the charge. One day right after Christmas he completely revamped the hall closet. I had grown so used to various hats, gloves, and old purses falling on my head whenever I opened the door that I don't quite know what to do with all the newfound space in there.

We did steal an idea from a neighbor and put a large basket in the bottom of the closet to deposit our shoes in when we walk in the door. This was more an attempt to corral everyone's shoes in one spot so they could easily be found, rather than an attempt to keep the floors clean. So far, it's working! No more searching under beds and room to room looking for SOMEONE'S Hannah Montana sneakers.

As much as we love the holidays, it does feel good to be back in some sort of a routine. The winter days have also prompted me to make the slow cooker my slave.
Here's what's been on the menu lately:

1. Creamy potato soup, done in the crockpot. Fed us all for two meals plus a lunch or two, for around $10 total. I found my recipe on Allrecipes.com, but my good friend the innernets has lots of other great ones too.

2. Pork loin, cooked with onions, a little water, and a packet of Knorr pork gravy mix (my special secret). All the gravy needs is a little stir when you get home, and you've got wonderful, fork-tender pork loin to go with it.

3. Chicken vegetable soup- - -this one wasn't done in the crockpot but instead I cooked it up one night after the kiddos were in bed, then cooled it down, froze half for a future meal and stuck the rest in the fridge. It's basically like any other chicken soup recipe except I add lots of cut-up veggies plus petite-diced tomatoes,a little okra and wide egg noodles. Delish.

4. This one's in my near future (like this Tuesday night): My Aunt Sybil's chili. She served it the day after Christmas and I observed one Nathaniel Pellin slurp up two bowls of it, so I had to have the recipe. It was good to see Mr. No-Sauce-On-My-Spaghetti eat cooked tomatoes in some form.

What I've been reading lately: "Change Me Into Zeus' Daughter" by Barbara Robinette Moss. This book was loaned (given, maybe?) to me by my cousin over the holidays and I couldn't put it down for about four days. It's an absolutely heartbreaking memoir, but so beautifully written.
And Cousin, please let me know if you need the book back because I want to pass it on!

I'm currently on the waiting list at our library for "I Was Told There'd Be Cake"--the name of the author escapes me right now, but I've heard it's funny and I could definitely use a giggle or two!

I Laugh, Then I Cry. It Must Be Christmastime. . .

2008-12-21T17:45:00.000-08:00

The Smiles:
1. Starbuck's peppermint mocha. And it tastes even better in the little red cup.
2. Playing A Charlie Brown Christmas on the stereo while decorating. And seeing Nate learn that crazy Peanuts shoulder-shrug dance from his dad, the master.
3. Watching Liv and Nate sing in the choir; I sure wish my mom could see them.
4. And a smile soon to come: seeing Mark and our brother-in-law, Dan, play wisemen at the Christmas Eve service. Complete with headdress and robes. Excellent.
5. Opening all the cards from faraway friends and seeing how their kids have grown.

The Tears:
1. Knowing that this will likely be the last year we have two firm Santa-believers in the house.
2. Sitting in the coffee shop recently, I saw a 60-ish woman with her daughter at a nearby table. At one point the daughter pulled a red sweater out of one of her shopping bags and held it up to the mom, admiringly. The mom reached over and brushed a crumb off her daughter's chin, as natural as breathing. I had to leave before I started blubbering into my mint mocha.
3. Finding Zoe's little empty stocking in a box of decorations.
4. Watching A Charlie Brown Christmas---yes, the CD is on the "smiles" list, but I just can't take seeing that sad little Christmas tree! And yet, I can't look away. . .:o)

I've been shown so much love and mercy in '08, not the least of which has come from my friends and family. I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday and may '09 be the year that we all resolve anything we've struggled with in the past year. Merry Christmas, y'all!

Thanksgiving 08: The Good, The Bad, The Turkey

2008-11-28T10:04:00.000-08:00

UUUUUGH. I'm still recovering from stuffing myself stoopid last night, but I wanted to go ahead and list the faves and raves that made last night so special. Oh, and there were one or two items that I'll definitely vote "no" on if theyre on the Thanksgiving ballot next year.

The Good:
1. Uncle Dan's turkey---roasted to perfection for hours, scarfed down in nanoseconds, as it should be.
2. The creamy brussells sprouts. A new twist for me this year, but surprisingly easy and especially enjoyed by our resident veg head Liv.
3. The company---my sweet MIL, sis-and-bro-in-law and their kiddos can't be beat.
4. The after-dinner-offer: My sis-in-law temporarily lost her mind and invited Liv and Nate to spend the night, so I didn't have to break up the Wii party that was still raging at 7 p.m.
5. The Thanksgiving night selection on cable. Moonstruck for the grown-ups, and Home Alone being DVR'd for the kidlets.

The Bad:
1. The stinking, rotten cold/flu virus that wouldn't go away. Mark relapsed just in time for Turkey Day, leaving him home with nothing to look forward to other than a Nyquil-indused coma. He did resort to the Afrin so he could taste the big plate of food I brought home for him.
2. My attempt to crisp-up the graham cracker crust for my pumpkin cheesecake backfired. I pre-baked it about 5 minutes too long and it was hard as a rock. The filling was yummy, though, so I wasn't completely mortified.
3. The distance, illnesses and financial strains that kept some people we love away, and we from them. Next year will be better.
4. That second- -or third- -loaded plate of food, that left me having to sleep propped up on three pillows. What? Was? I? Thinking??!

Et Tu, October?

2008-11-14T09:24:00.000-08:00

I haven't stopped to journal anything going on in awhile; there's been a lot going on but not much I can really put out there on the innernets.

Let's just say October, which is normally one of my favorite months of the year, was not very kind to Casa Pellin in the year 2008.

But, moving forward, we still have our health, our children, our home, and our slightly intact minds, so we're soldiering onward. And November, which is already almost over, gives us lots of good excuses to get our eat on, among other wonderful things.

So, my mind has gratefully turned toward food. Isn't it great how food is always there to comfort us? Um, I guess that's a good thing, right? This year for Thanksgiving I'm thinking of trying something different with sides; I've seen a recipe for creamy brussels sprouts with bacon and another for cauliflower au gratin that I want to try. And I'll give Mr. Nate $5 if he tries even just a taste of them!

Other random, POSITIVE updates:
1. Liv is taking an "Acro-dance" class this year and really enjoying it. She was getting bored with the tap/ballet routine but didn't want to stop going to her regular studio. This was just the shot in the arm she needed to stay interested. The format is all floorwork, with the kids mainly doing handstands, somersaults and other tumbling exercises to music. Fun for Liv, fun for me to watch.
2. Nate has two best-buds, Rowan and Jake, that he talks about all the time. And get this---he always uses their first and last names whenever he refers to them. Very formal. Like we don't know WHICH Rowan he means, after he's told us the story about how he and Rowan planted pumpkin seeds in egg cartons for the 99th time?
He also made his first phone call to his friend Elena yesterday after school. Hi-larious. Mark and I tried not to die of cuteness overload when he said, "Hello. This is Nafaniel Pellin. May I speak to Elena please?"
3. My dad has two invitations to Thanksgiving dinner back home. One pre-Thanksgiving meal at my aunt's the night before and then a restaurant buffet lunch the next day with another aunt's family. I am super relieved about this and also a tad jealous!

Happy Thirty-Everything Day To Me!

2008-09-14T19:00:00.000-07:00

Flowers, compliments of Cousin Holly. Variety-slice cake, by Harris Teeter. Plastic fireman hat that magically appears on kitchen table every night, compliments of Nate.

My Thirties In Review Thus Far, A Prayer List of Thanks

1. Thank you for my babies---I wanted them much earlier, but the timing, when it came, couldn't have been more perfect.

2. Thank you for letting me turn thirty-nine. I haven't been taking care of myself lately, and I rush around through life all too often not thinking or looking or stopping nearly as often as I should---I'm amazed I've made it this far!

3. Thank you for my sweet H, and for helping us become homeowners (twice), and for somehow allowing us to continue to listen and hear eachother over life's everyday noise.

4. Thank you for my dear friends and exended family---the Daddy who sent me a sweet card and called me after the kids were in bed, the mother-in-law who knows the greatest gift of all is to keep the kids overnight once in awhile (thanks again!), the uncle who e-mails beautiful photos of butterflies, bears and riverfront views that make me homesick, the cousin who never forgets to send me a silly card, the other cousin who sent me gorgeous, autumn-colored roses. They inspire and sustain me.

5. Thank you for all the other people in my little speck of an orbit that make my world keep spinning around: my hilarious co-workers, our kind, ever-generous neighbors and fellow church members.

6. And, oh, thank you for my big cup of coffee every morning. Of which I'm gonna need a double dose of if I don't get to bed.

Happy School Year!

2008-08-28T10:16:00.000-07:00

My resolutions for Aug. 2008- June 2009:

1. I will make sure that each child's bookbag is thoroughly checked for forms that need signing each night.

2. I will NOT give in to last-minute requests of a packed lunch as I'm heading out the door to work. The school menu is on the fridge and is discussed approximately eleventy times per day. It is not my fault if you decide at 7:59 a.m. that, although you're not sure what dumplings are, the thought of them makes you heave.

3. I will allow enough time each morning to get two kids adequately prepared for their school day before I head to work. Whatever amount of time I think that will be, add another 25 minutes.

4. I will ensure that there is a breakfast alternative to Pop-Tarts available each morning. I'm just over the Pop-Tarts in general and they leave the kiddos hopped up and starving 30 minutes later. I don't mean to hate on the Tarts, and we may very well resort to them later, but for now I've gotta try to do better.

5. I will start preparations for bedtime at least a half-hour prior to the actual bedtime, thus allowing time for a relaxed storytime and toothbrushing routine, instead of turning into Mrs. Yeller McYellington from Yellville.

6. I will graciously thank my husband each day (or at least weekly) for agreeing to be the Bus Stop Dad on our corner for the second year in a row!

Bye-Bye Bobby: The End of an Era

2008-07-31T18:24:00.000-07:00

It all started at around 10 a.m. July 2,2003. That's when my sweet sister-in-law, Beth, came into the hospital room where I was snuggling with Nate, who was just under sixteen hours old.

She placed a 12x12-inch square of velvety,baby-blue fabric in his hospital bassinet. It was a brand-new "lovie" blanket; her daughter had one as a baby and as comfort objects go, she assured me it was the best. Because of its size, it was totally portable and could easily be stuffed into a diaper bag, and the material was so silky and soothing that it had an almost magical effect on a cranky baby.

She encouraged me to cuddle with it a bit so Nate would pick up my scent on the blanket. When I did, I could see what she meant- - -I remember all too well the calming sensation of the satin trim of my childhood blanket between my finger and thumb, how it made the world just slip away. I gently laid the lovie on Nate's chest.

Here was our first sign: he clutched it right away, and fluttered his tiny eyelids as if in recognition of an old friend. Newborns are so between two worlds anyway, so maybe that blanket just reminded his soul of its previous heavenly home. Who knows, but from that moment on they were darned near inseperable.

That blanket, named "Bobby" by two-year-old Liv (we still don't know why) was dragged everywhere with Nate and got him through the transition from crib to big-boy bed. I hate to admit it, but we relied on ol' Bobby as much as he did at times. Concerned about how Nate will handle sleeping over at Grandpa's for the first time? No worries, we've got Bobby. Afraid the baby will get restless on the five-hour road trip? Pack that Bobby. NOW.

Nate referred to Bobby as a "him," a living, breathing best bud. Bobby couldn't be left outside because he might get cold. Bobby can't be left in the hamper all night because he might get scared. Bobby's dirty and needs a bath. Bobby was almost part of the family, and eventually became a permanent fixture on Nate's pillow, ready for nighttime duty.

Until two weeks ago. That's when Nate decided that as bonafide five-year-old, he didn't need Bobby anymore. He instructed Mark to "take it to the Goodwill store so another baby can buy it." Mark nodded in agreement, then came downstairs and gingerly handed the tattered piece of blanket-trocity over to me and said "We're supposed to be taking this to 'Goodwill.'" He used air quotes. I love it when he uses air quotes.
"I think Goodwill will ban us from ever donating anything again if we drop that thing off." I said. We decided the top shelf of the guestroom closet, waaay in the back, would do for now.

It hasn't been an ultra-smooth transition. Nate has asked for an extra hug or two at bedtime "Because I miss Bobby," but for the most part he's really moved on. But this means that our baby has taken one more giant step to big-boyhood. Maybe it's us, the parents, who aren't truly ready.

I want my Bobby.

A real summer beauty

2008-07-31T18:13:00.001-07:00

. . .and the sunflower's kinda pretty too.

Note: mini pottery vase handmade with love by Dawn

I want some cheese with my whine.

2008-07-28T12:04:00.000-07:00

Monday at my desk, 3 p.m.

OK, it totally should be 5 by now. . .

Wishing I was on vacation like last week, visiting my dad and other extended fam.

I miss my babies and wonder what they're doing right now. Husband included.

I don't want to cook when I get home, but that would mean succombing to pizza, fast food or subs and I dropped $109 at the bright, shiny overpriced grocery store yesterday so I know I gotta.

Nate is currently on restriction from TV until at least Wednesday (too much emulating what he sees on Spongebob---don't ask). Must shoo children outside while I cook. Maybe I can throw a bag of Skittles under a shrub and start a scavenger hunt? Hmmmm. . .

I want to play with the kids but dinner is top priority when we walk in the door at 6, so play comes later. Also, N just got a super cool set of plastic handcuffs (they click open with no key, my mama didn't raise no fool) complete with police badge and ticket book from the dollar store, the retailer of shame. It was his treat for being good at the dentist last week. We've certainly gotten our money's worth out of it, though; he's played with little else since he got it. But dinner preparation will be quite prolonged unless I get him out of the kitchen, or else I will be placed "under arrest" about 49 times. Olivia, Mark and I have all been dragged in to jail (which is currently located in the laundry room) by Deputy Nate at least twice a day each in the past week.

That dentist trip reminds me: No Skittles. I wonder if they'll go after a bag of Baked Cheetos. . .

Homemade pizza, an experiment in budgeting

2008-07-14T19:33:00.000-07:00

I use the term "homemade" very, very recklessly here; this pizza was homemade in a very Sandra Lee-inspired way. Frequently when I'm visiting my good friends the innernets I come across a lot of budget-smart blogger moms who make their own pizza at home and rave about the "tremendous money savings" and how much "fun" it is to do with their kids.

Dadgum it, they're right again.

Now, most of the recipes I've found use the real deal when it comes to dough, starting from scratch. There's a lot of covering and waiting for dough to rise for an hour or so and then punching it down and blah, blah, blah. But some of us had a loooong rainy Sunday evening yesterday and couldn't be arsed with such nonsense.

I started hunting for a recipe shortly after the last time we called our local Papa Domino's Hut. For a large pizza for our family of four, it was close to $25 with tip. But my time is very precious to me too; I mean, all that time in the kitchen jabbing at dough and such could be spent sprawled in the beanbag chair eating Pirate's Booty crumbs off my t-shirt. Anyway.

After I perused a few recipes I realized I had most of the stuff I needed already on hand: parmesan cheese, some leftover bolognese sauce from Friday night,ricotta cheese, and olive oil. So, not counting the stuff I already had in my pantry and freezer, I ended up spending only about $14, and there's still lots of ingredients remaining for future pizzas.

A quick roundup of my grocery list:
Two bags of Martha White pizza crust mix, $2(This was the real time saver! My home girl Martha always comes through for biscuits, cornbread and now pizza crust. That chick is something else. )

One jar of Ragu Pizza Quick sauce, $2.89 --Please don't judge me. I've tried a lot of fancier pizza sauces over the years and they were either cloyingly sweet or just tasted like plain tomato puree. This one fit the budget, doesn't have a lot of added sugar, and has a good blend of spices.

Small can of black olives, $1.89 - Maybe it's because it's part of her name, but our Liv loves her some black olives. We let her mark her territory with a ton of them when we were adding the toppings.

Turkey pepperoni, $3.79

Mozzerella cheese, $3.19 --sliced, not shredded

The process was so stoopidly simple, but much more fun than wringing our hands waiting for the pizza delivery guy.
First, I used my two packs of dough mix and followed the package directions, which just calls for adding about a cup of hot water and mixing with a fork. And the covering and wait time? Five minutes, people. I told you Martha's my kinda gal.

The dough turned out very pliable and stretchy enough to cover a fairly large square jelly roll pan, and I pinched the edges to make a lip for the sauce. Next we brushed a thin layer of olive oil on the dough to keep the sauce from seeping through and to help crisp up the edges. Then we spread only about four or five tablespoons of sauce so the crust wouldn't get soggy.

Next we slapped on the cheese and got down to the businesses of adding our individual toppings. Olivia chose the top right-hand section for her olive-palooza. I picked the left section for sort of a lasagna-esque deal with the meat sauce and ricotta. I added a few pepperoni slices too. The picky boy child, well, he went a little crazy and added some extra cheese to his section.

The baking time was only about 15 minutes, but about halfway through I noticed the cheese on the right-hand side was browning faster than the rest, so I tented it with some foil. This turned out super yummy, and the kids were very impressed with their efforts. This is definitely something we'll work into the regular rotation because it offered a fun activity plus a dinner that pleased everyone's individual tastes. Ah, success- - it smells a lot like garlic. And olives.

Impulse buy, forgiven

2008-07-13T11:16:00.001-07:00

Hello, BOGO Planters Peanuts from the Wal-Marts!! Nice to see ya.

Friday evening I walked in the door after work to find these guys on the little side table in my kitchen. They are the epitome of what sometimes happens when I sent my hubby to the store. But, given that they are cute and they bear a ton of crunchy salty goodness, they are more than welcome at Casa Crazy. Plus, they made me smile at the end of a long day when they greeted me at the back door- - - said hubby and children were glued in front of Animal Planet. I think I'll go see if my new nutty pals want to talk about the coming week's menu plan. A peanut sauce is definitely in the picture somewhere.

I was also quite grateful for all the things H did remember to pick up at the store, not the least of which was this new cereal I've been wanting to try: Kashi Honey Sunshine. It looks and tastes kinda like Corn Pops but with a lot more fiber and a lot less sugar. While he was waiting for dinner, my youngest managed to tear himself away from observing Meerkat Manor on AP to forage for a snack. Then something amazing happened.The little stinker managed to scarf down two little dry cups of it before I put the kibosh on his munching so he'd actually eat some dinner. I tried to play it all cool on the outside, but inside? Inside? Inside, I was joyously screaming "HE'S EATING CEREAL OUT OF A BOX THAT DOESN'T HAVE A PICTURE OF A TIGER, A TOUCAN OR AN OBNOXIOUS LEPRACAUN ANYWHERE IN SIGHT!!" Thanks, Kashi---y'all are miracle workers.

You Gotta Try This!

2008-07-09T16:59:00.000-07:00

My cheap-o camera doesn't do this justice!

Last night I was suffering from FMG, or Farmers Market Guilt. It's what happens when you have leftover, slightly shriveled produce in your fridge that was picked at the height of its deliciousness by someone's loving hands and simply Must. Not. Be. Wasted. The modest cast of characters included: A few small pods of okra, one ripe tomato, two ears of sweet corn and half a vidalia onion. So, I searched my good friends the innernets and came up with a slight variation on something I found on allrecipes.com.
Here's what I did: I chopped up a few slices of bacon and threw it in a skillet with about a tablespoon of olive oil, then sauteed until it was just turning crisp. Then I added the diced up onion and stirred it around until it wasn't brown but just translucent. Then I added the corn (after scraping it off the cob and supplementing with a small bag of frozen white kernels) and the okra, chopped up. I stirred it around for a minute or two, just until the okra started giving up some of its lusciousness, which more unappreciative folk might call "slime." Then I added the cored, chopped tomato and gave it a few more stirs until it was just softened. A little course salt and pepper and voila! Summer in a skillet.

This was Soooo good, y'all, and so darned pretty you almost don't want to shove giant spoonfuls of it in your mouth while standing over the sink. But, maybe you can't help yourself after sitting in traffic in a thunderstorm with panicky kids and a growling tummy. Or, maybe that's just me. Anyway.

I kept thinking how excellent it would be as a side with some grilled fish, chicken or maybe some shrimp skewers. But last night, since the tiny punks needed to be fed too, I found it paired beautifully with Gordon's fish sticks and red grapes.
Try this sometime this summer. Okra lovers rule!

Forgive me, but this is cheaper than therapy. Cooking also helps.

2008-07-06T13:22:00.000-07:00

The other day marked the anniversary of my mom's sudden, untimely death. My dad and I sent eachother our usual daily e-mails, never once mentioning it. Then, at around lunchtime he called me at work and said, "Uh, Honey?"
"Yeah, Daddy?" I responded.
"Never mind," he said. "You're at work."
"It's OK, Dad---what? Are you OK?"
"Yeah. But, you know what today is, don't you?"

I knew. But, unlike Dad, I have the luxury of a full-time job, two jacked-up little kids and a husband to occupy my time and my mind. So, we chatted for a few minutes about how we couldn't believe it'd been three years and how, for him, it still feels as recent as last week. I so wish I could change that for him. For me, mercifully, it doesn't feel that way anymore, but it still smarts.

The graciousness and goodness of people still amazes me every day---our neighbor brought cookies with a note that said, "Thinking of you this weekend," and several of my co-workers came by my desk that day with hugs. I also got e-mails from friends and family. I don't know why that date sticks in people's memory; perhaps it was because it was over a holiday weekend.

Over the last few days I've taken comfort in all the nice folks we know. I've also found solace in my good friends Ben and Jerry, so I need to watch it 'cause those guys are bad, bad influences.

Yesterday the kidlets, H and I went to one of our local farmer's markets and my haul included some yellow squash, zucchini, vidalia onions as large as softballs, dark red cherries, tomatoes (both ripe and green) and sweet corn. I came home and threw myself into cooking every bit of it the best way I knew how, with a few twists. I threw some parmesan and cream into the sauteed squash and onions. I added horseradish to the dipping sauce for the fried green tomatoes. The corn was so sweet and juicy it needed nothing but a quick dip in some boiling water and a shake or two of salt. And, yes, we can say we had "just veggies" for dinner even though there was cheese, cream and frying involved. Hey, this is the south. We're allowed.

First Day of Five-ness

2008-07-02T08:08:00.000-07:00

Another installment of "Abuse of Blog as Baby Book."

Our resident five-year-old really loves:

1. Doughnuts. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, bedtime--who cares when, just bring 'em on in bulk. He'd rather have Krispy Kremes than any other treat, including ice cream. I'm seriously thinking about ditching the birthday cake for next year (he just licks the icing off anyway) and picking up a couple dozen chocolate-glazed KK's with sprinkles and call it a day.

2. Fire trucks. Since he could walk, this kid has made woooo-woooo siren noises that made our windows rattle and our dog head for under the bed. He once came down our stairs dressed for preschool in last year's shorts (which were now short-shorts), a plastic fireman's helmet and cowboy boots. In February. He totally looked like a tiny Chippendale's dancer. I should've booked him for a bachelorette party and put some cash in the college fund.

3. His grandpa (my dad). They have been tight since day one, and one of the first "real" sentences out of his mouth at two years old was "My pa-pa is my best friend." My dad happened to be within earshot at the time, so I'm pretty sure that kid is getting a new car one day.

4. His sister's nail polish, jewelry and ballet outfits. We have pictures that will one day surely get him to do my bidding lest I show them to his friends.

5. Going to Pinetown to visit. He's a displaced country kid, for sure.

6. Going to Ohio. He's only been once, but frequently asks when we're going to "The Ohio" again to see Uncle Dew, Aunt Ro and Pam.

7. Watching the "Here Comes a Fire Truck!" DVD. See #2.

8. Playing with Anna Marie, our little eight-year-old neighbor. She's a lanky blonde beauty, but Nate loves her for her video game collection and acrobatics on the swing set. Technically she's more his sister's friend, but don't tell him that.

9. Swimming in grandma's community pool. He just made it to the other side of it without water wings the other day! It wasn't a pretty sight---a lot of flailing and splashing but he got there.

10. His grandma. For her generosity, constant gentle sweetness and, like any good grandma, she ALWAYS has gum.

Maybe I'm Amazed

2008-07-01T06:20:00.000-07:00

June 28: "Is it here yet, Mama?"
"No, not yet. Today's your party, though."

June 29: "Is it today?"
"No,not yet."

June 30: "I'm never gonna be five. Only four all the time.
Everybody's five but me."

"Sighhhh. . ."

July 1: "Mama?" (Pointing at the calendar)

"Yes, it's finally here!"

Happy birthday, little Tater. Today's your day! Tonight it's hot dogs and cupcakes and some serious pinata bustin'. I can't believe you're five! I know for you it's been an excruciating wait, but for me and your dad it feels like we were just smelling your feathery, chocolate-brown newborn hair and then we blinked and now we're here! We love you---you'll be our Baby Nate 'til you're 80.

Things that suck, things that don't

2008-06-22T19:43:00.000-07:00

The rear section of my dad's current, and my former, backyard. Yep, that's a cornfield back there.

I visited Dad last weekend for Father's Day with the kiddos in tow. Part of the visit entailed having scary, albeit necessary conversations about doctors, legal documents and what the future may hold for him and for us.
Put that in the "what sucks" file. But in the blessed, in-between times, there were many, many gracious gifts.
O.K.--I can't fight it. I was gonna avoid putting everything into lists, but I cannot help myself.

What Sucks Lately
1. Having scary, necessary conversations about your one remaining parent's health and what he wants for his future.
2. Thinking "Someone else should handle this--someone you know, grown up"- and then you realize that grown up is you.
3. Having to leave people you love, all the time. . .whether its leaving the kids at day camp to go to work, or leaving Dad to return to my real-life grown-up home. Sometimes it just bites.
4. Having to explain to a new, inexperienced supervisor all the ways you have your duties covered while you take one day off out of your humongous amount of saved vacation time to visit an ailing family member. Then having to re-explain it.

What Decidedly Does Not Suck
1. Stumbling upon my Late Great Aunt Polly's neglected, overgrown flower garden. Liv and I crept back there when we saw the nodding blooms of a few deep blue French Hydrangeas peeking out from the side of her house across the road. We discovered about six of the shrubs, all with dinnerplate-size blossoms hanging low and heavy, in shades of indigo, lavender and baby blue. There were also gardenia bushes with blossoms glowing white in the dim light of dusk. We greedily clipped as many of the beauties as we could hold and put them in little vases and jelly jars in nearly every room at my dad's house.

2. Watching Nate and Liv splash in the wading pool in the backyard. I can almost hear the time ticking away the moments when they'll be just too big and waaay too cool to play in that thing.

3. Immersing myself in the stack of Southern Livings bestowed on me by a co-worker before I left on my roadtrip. While sitting "poolside," of course.

4. Watching the kids gleefully careen around with their older cousins on a homemade slip-n-slide (big, wet plastic tarp) while Holly controlled the hose action.

5. Tossing bread crumbs to the swarm of turtles living in the Pamlico's estuary marsh at sundown every night. It's just something you don't see everyday in the big city.

6. Coming home to the other super dad in our family, and telling him all about it.

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

2008-06-10T19:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Mama-
I finally, finally dreamed about you last night. Remember how I used to have little "dream visits" with Granny---she would be doing nothing special, just being herself, and it was like I was with her again, just for a fleeting, fuzzy moment. Last night was sort of like that. I couldn't sleep at all at first; work is really stressful right now and I eventually came downstairs to get some water and then went back up to read for awhile instead of tossing and turning. I finally put my book down and drifted off at around 1 a.m., and before I knew it, there you were.
We were in a rented car, flying down the highway together and I was trying to figure out where the cruise control was located. The car was packed with luggage and Dixie, our long gone oldie-goldie dog, was in the back seat panting away.

I was able to piece together that we were headed to a vacation house at the beach, and Daddy and Mark were coming later. You were clutching an envelope in your lap that contained the keys to the place--I could even hear them jingling around when you moved it. We didn't say much in the dream, but there was that glorious, palpable excitement of the first day of vacation--there's nothing like it. Even though virtually no words were spoken, I knew our plan for the day: We'd arrive and get settled before heading out to the store so we could stock the fridge. When we drove up to the house, we walked around the back to check out the pier. That was it, or at least, that's all I can remember. Thanks for the visit, Mama. I needed that. xxoo

Happy Anniversary to ME! I mean, us.

2008-05-24T08:12:00.000-07:00

Exactly eleven years ago today, Hubs vowed to keep me in coffee(both hot and iced), Diet Dr. Pepper and Burt's Bees lip balm forever. And he's done a mighty fine job. In addition he managed to have a couple babies with me, maintain steady employment, and listen to every single one of my whines about work, traffic, my weight, the pimple on my chin and the tepid temperature of my morning latte at the StarMegaBucks without once donating me to the Goodwill or committing me. Thanks, Honey. Tonight Grandma's got the kiddos. Thanks, Grandma! Life as a married lady is sometimes too good to be true.

Little Woman

2008-04-24T17:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Olivia--
Last Sunday you shocked us all by turning seven. Seven! I gotta sit down.
Five minutes ago you were all chunky arms and legs,riding on my hip like an adorable chimp. Now, you're sporting all kinds of Hannah Montana gear and your limbs are lanky and slender; willowy even!

Monday morning while you were getting ready for school, I noticed you were a little bummed. The day after your birthday can seem a bit like the day after Christmas, huh? So, I took a minute in between helping you comb the back of your hair and chasing your brother into the bathroom to interview the new seven-year-old you.

Me: So, now that you're seven, what's your favorite thing to do when you're not in school?
You: I like to play with Anna (our neighbor) and Emma. And go to Chuck E. Cheese (the scene of your party---only your second time there ever).
Me: What's your favorite food?
You: Macaroni and cheese, tomatoes and strawberries. But not mixed up together.
Me: Describe your brother.
You: He annoys me. But he's fun until he has to go in time out.
Me: How would you describe Mommy? (I cannot help myself. I am an insecure quivering mass).
You: She smiles a lot and has two big teeth in the front. She smells nice. She's always in a hurry. (Owwwwwwwch. That's me. Conking myself in the head V-8 style)
Me: How would you describe Daddy?
You: He likes to play games and take us places. He's funny and kind of gross like when he burps.
Me: OK, Thanks for talking with me. How does it feel to be seven?
You: The same, I guess. You're welcome.

Here's some other stuff I already know about you:
-Your favorite color is purple. Blue is still for boys in your opinion.
-You like reminding me, and everyone we know, that I am thirty-eight.
-You love capturing bugs and observing them, even the creepiest ones, which is decidedly un-girly. But I won't tell anyone.
-When you were two, you used to tell me you loved me no matter what I'd say to you. For instance:
Me: "What do you want to drink?"
You: "I wuv you, Mama."
Me: "Milk or orange juice?"
You: "I wuv you, Mama."
Me: "Which book do we want to read tonight?"
You: "I wuv you, Mama."

Sigh. I miss those days. But you find other ways to tell me, and even better, to show me and the rest of us, all the time. Even that annoying brother.
Tuesday night, when we all got home from school and work, I was cleaning up in the kitchen when Nate said he had a tummy ache. You informed me that you would handle it. You took him over to the couch, propped him up on a pillow and brought him some ginger ale, then came back to the kitchen to report "He's feeling a little better now. I think we should let him rest until storytime." I had to document this because the next time you're ready to kill your brother, I'll have to show it to you. And, when you're a teenager and you hate me, or when you've grown up and moved away, I can read this and know how profoundly lucky I was to share every day with you.
xxooo

Zoe's Story

2008-03-31T18:06:00.000-07:00

So I should explain how Zoe came into my life, or rather, I came into hers. She started out as Hubs' dog, back in our early courtin' days. He decided, after living in a river town for a couple of years(my hometown, BTW) that he should own a black lab like each and every one of the other inhabitants. Except he thought he'd go a little wild and get a yellow one.

One Saturday we perused the place where EVERYBODY goes looking for a pet, the hunting supply store, of course. This particular store was known for posting the names and numbers of beagle, lab and various hound dog breeders. After jotting down a few phone numbers we heard the sound of irresistible cuteness coming from behind the register. A mixed-up jumble of whimpers, soft grunts and smacks that could only come from a pile of puppies. The guy at the counter proudly pointed to a big wooden box and said the adorable babies inside were all spoken for except for one, and he 'spected she'd be gone before the day was out.

The dude behind the counter was big, but I nearly leveled him to get back there and scoop up Ms. Available. The pups were English Setter/Brittany Spaniel mix, but the end result was sort of a lanky, dainty Springer. The one in my arms was black and white, with freckles on her nose, back and belly. She had a sweet, newborn-baby smell and deep, navy blue eyes. When I rolled her on her back, she yawned, stretched and gently licked my thumb, no matter how long I held her there.

"Fifty bucks." said counter guy. "Just to cover the first shots."

"Nah." said Hubs. "I really wanna lab." I made him smell the pup's head. He obliged. Then he winced and said, "I gotta go to work in an hour. Let me think about it."

This would not do. I knew as soon as we left some hunter would claim her. He'd probably make her sleep outside. In the cold. Probably keep her chained up at night. Probably make her earn her keep chasing squirrels. Or fetching dead ducks. Or something.

On the way back to H's neighborhood, my mind raced. Somehow, over the next several hours, I had to get that sweet bundle of awesomeness into my life. And I had to convince Boyfriend that it was his idea. But the magic of puppy love was already at work.

About ten minutes after I dropped H back at our place of business, The Daily News, he called me up and said, "If you come by and let me give you fifty bucks, will you go get me that little speckled pup?" Victory.

I wish I could say that her name was the result of some well-thought-out process, but we actually saw it on some Lenny Kravitz liner notes and thought it was cool. It was a song called "Flowers for Zoe," which Lenny write for his daughter.

We played her the song on her first night at H's apartment. She liked it. She also REALLY loved The Grateful Dead, and bites of grilled hamburger tossed her way, and having her belly scratched. And most of all, she loved us.

Over the years she's endured four moves and the humiliation of sharing her home with two human babies who took years to potty train and occasionally yanked her lovely, fringed tail. But she loved them for their perpetual trail of crumbs and because they loved her. She also enjoyed their lullaby CD's, and would often drift off to sleep at my feet while I rocked them.

Another song she liked was an excruciatingly corny ditty that I used to twang to her in the mornings:
"Even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with you, Honey---everything will bring a chain of looooo-ove. In the morning when I rise, bring a tear of joy to my eyes and tell me everything's gonna be all right."

And that is what I whispered to her in the vet's office today, as she left this world with H and I by her side. I loved that damn dog. We all did.

Goodbye, sweet girl. You were the best.

Unexpected

2008-02-29T19:01:00.000-08:00

Cutest President and running mate ever
A few weeks ago I was performing one of 1,000 nightly rituals, cleaning out the kids' bookbags, when I found a note from Liv's teacher. "You should congratulate Olivia," she wrote. "She was elected president of our first grade class today."

She hadn't even said a word about it.

After I congratulated her, I asked her why she hadn't told us the good news herself."Well, it's not what I was expecting," she said. "I don't actually get to make any rules or anything, Mommy."

I'd wager that 100% of our U.S. presidents have woken up a few months after the innaugural ball with those exact same sentiments: "It's not what I was expecting."

Regardless, we are proud of Olivia. And, in so many ways, she's not what I was expecting. I had expected, at 29, to get pregnant. I did, almost immediately. Then, I expected to have a blissfully perfect pregnancy. It wasn't, and it was very short-lived. It ended in about ten weeks. Eighteen months and two more miscarriages later, I expected that my husband and I would begin learning a little about the adoption process and maybe give it a try in a year or so.

What actually happened was that within eight months of our first baby steps into the process, we found ourselves on a plane to Ukraine, where we were told to expect to bring home a little boy.

Not only did we not expect a sweet baby girl, but we didn't expect her to toddle right to us after only a few visits.
We didn't expect her to somehow, incredibly, have my mother's eyes, Mark's cousin Pam's smile, my cousin Holly's complexion and my dad's silly sense of humor.

We had given up on finding a miracle, but then she found us.

The other day she told us this president thing has turned out pretty great, because she gets to announce when it's time to line up for lunch AND she gets to help with role call in the morning. See? Sometimes what you least expected turns out to be better than you could've ever imagined.

What I'm reading and admiring so far in '08

2008-01-28T18:20:00.000-08:00

I like winter---in small doses. (I have to add that because if I don't I will wake to seven feet of snow blocking the front door, which will cause me to turn into that guy from The Shining quicklike).

So, suffice it to say that I appreciate some seasonal chilliness once in awhile, I mean it IS January, for Al Gore's sake. (Love you, Al! Call me!) Also, it gives me the perfect excuse to curl up with a book and my $29 down-alternative throw from Cosco. Both are best enjoyed while making sweet love to a huge mug of sugar-free Swiss Miss.

We're a happy library family here at Casa Pellin, although sometimes I find the trip a tad frustrating. Much like wandering the video store aisles, an aimless search among the stacks can often prove overwhelming for me. It must've been all those nights in the early 00's reading "Here Comes The Truck!" and "How A Princess Gets Dressed"---for a while there I wasn't sure what the grown-up me liked to read anymore.

But now I get the pleasure of finding out all over again.

Don't get me wrong. I still love to read to my kids. Ramona Quimby, Junie B. Jones and that blessed farting dog, whatshisname, are alive and kickin' around here. But, since most of my friends have little ones too, I needed some suggestions on some good hibernation material that doesn't include colorful illustrations or an accompanying sing-along CD.

Recently I was flipping through a "Good Housekeeping" magazine while waiting for my oil change. It was the ONLY remotely female mag in the tiny little waiting area. The guys there already know I don't know nothin' 'bout fixin' no cars, so I'm not about to put on any airs by thumbing through Car and Driver, OK? Anyway--so not the point! GH has a piece in every issue now called "A Good Read" with a list of books recommended by their staffers. Guidance! I obediently marched down to our local branch that afternoon (um, well, this is Charlotte, so I zoomed over in my mini-van, found a killer space, THEN I marched). Here's what I found:

"Here If You Need Me" by Kate Braestrup. I found myself reading aloud to Hubs a lot from this book, which he usually hates, but he forgave me for this one. That's how good it is! This is an autobiography of a young widow and mom of four who also happens to be a chaplain for the Maine Wildlife service. She brings home the bacon, fries it up in a pan, and then gets called out to encourage, console and pray with the families of people and children lost in the Maine woods. Yes, we do need you, Kate!

"The Myth of You and Me" by Leah Stewart. This one was written by a Carolina girl, and if that's not reason enough to go out and grab it, it's won a couple of fancy awards, too. Because it's so effin' good. For anyone who's ever had a bestest friend who totally crapped on you once or twice but you loved them anyway, not in a pathetic co-dependent way, but an unconditional, kill-or-die,love-you-even-if-you-write-run-on-sentences way, this is for you. She also published a mystery called "Body of a Girl" that's currently on request at my library; I think I'm fourth on the wait list, so get in line, ladeeez!

Those are the only ones I've had time for so far, and GH is two-for-two on their picks!

I just adore books. Growing up in a three-channel-TV house (and one of those was fuzzy), books were of grave importance to me. If I can just get all personal-growthy for a minute, they became part of who I am. It's such a treat getting to see my kids discover what they love to read and have read to them. I can proudly say I know every word to "Here Comes The Truck" by heart because I read it eleventy-seven times to one Nathaniel Pellin from the time he was one year old until oh, about two months ago. That's when he discovered "Here Comes The Fire Truck!" Sigh. I sense a pattern.

As for Liv, she's actually started asking to cut our nightly storytime short so she can read a little of her favorites by herself in her room. This makes me want to beam with pride and burst into tears all at once. It's the gradual end of an era, of snuggling with her in bed and reading and re-reading "Dora In The Lost City," and "Bear Stays Up For Christmas" (even in August).

She's got new pals like American Girl Stories and A to Z Mysteries. I swear, she is like a garden. Every single day, every minute, there's something new and amazing there that you didn't notice before. Like little crocus shoots breaking through frozen soil. Or the first, finger-shaped daffodil bud, destined to be a yellow beauty.

Or a girl becoming a reader.

Ah, recovery. And Christmas movies that aren't so Christmassy.

2007-12-29T17:28:00.000-08:00

We had a fabulous holiday of Beaufort County travel (me and the kids) mingled with holiday time here at home with my dad. I loaded up the kids to take them to Eastern NC the weekend before Christmas so they could meet my cousin Erica and her family who flew in from Oklahoma for a few days. It was so good to see her, and I also got the bonus gift of seeing my friend Renee who now lives in NYC.
Renee and her husband Stu were visiting her folks, who live just up the road from my dad. ( Now, in rural Eastern NC, "up the road" means about five-ten miles away.) Anyhoo, once I realized she was nearby, I arranged to stop by her mom's house after the kids were tucked away. Man, is there anything that's more of a deja-vu overload than sitting in your friend's mom's kitchen? Renee's mom, Ms. Dorothy, puttered around in the kitchen the entire time, putting together a pecan pie while Renee and I chatted. We sat at the same little kitchen table where we used to swoon over Rick Springfield and eat Manwich sloppy joes that we'd occasionally whip up after school. I felt fifteen again for the first time in a long, long while, and it was one of the coolest gifts I could've received.
We headed to Charlotte on Sunday, with my dad following behind. The next night he got to see the kids sing at church on Christmas Eve. Nate's group sang "Away in a Manger," complete with occasional swaying, and Liv's choir sang a rousing little ditty called "Dance and Sing." They went to bed immediately after church----is there any better bribe out there than Santa's pending arrival? The next day, after the dust had settled from the ripping open of a foldaway doll house, a robot, two guitars and yes, a set of bongo drums (if you see Santa tell him I'd like a word or two), we lounged and played for awhile, then headed over to Mark's mom's for an early dinner of beef tenderloin and all the trimmings. Delish. The days preceding and following that day have been sprinkled with my dad's peanut brittle, various butter cookies, egg nog and chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. Awesome holiday. My pants are tight, but my heart is full.
Now it's the 28th, and the kids are watching their "Jungle Book" anniversary edition DVD (thanks Grandma!) and football's on the other tube. It's been a great couple of days. Last night hubs and I got the unexpected treat of having the kids stay at Grandma's while we went out for spicy Asian food and a cold cocktail. After that we even managed to stay awake during a real, grown-up movie. It was called "No Country For Old Men," and hubs wanted to see it because he'd read the book. It was pretty good, a tad violent for my usual taste, but I was so excited to be conscious after 9 p.m. on a Friday night I didn't give a hoot.
Aside from last night's outing, there have been several really good movies on cable lately, and a few of them, even though they aren't really "Christmas" movies per se, are must-sees for me nearly every year around this time. Oh, you feel a list coming on, don't you?
1. "Because of Winn Dixie". This movie came out on DVD in December of 2005 and Olivia watched it repeatedly until about March. It was also the last movie she saw in a theater with my mom. In the movie, ten-yr-old Opal often says upon meeting someone, "The first thing you should know about me is that I don't have a mama." And now I often feel like saying the same thing. I guess that's called "irony". Or, "shit-on-a-stick", but whatever.
2. "Moonstruck." It's wintertime in New York, and Cher gets her hair done big as a house and puts some lovin' on a crazy-haired, wild-eyed Nick Cage. Can't you just hear those jingle bells?
3. "Fight Club." Mark and I watched this with his friend Bernie Vogel when he came to visit at Christmas about eight years ago. I like to replace the guest soaps after watching it. Heh.

Turns out that's a pretty short list! And now, for the shows that drip Christmassy goodness. . . or badness, depending on the mood.

1. "Scrooged." Bill Murray with a still almost-full head of hair gets scared into a serious 'tude adjustment by a ghostly Buster Poindexter, among others. In the end, he gets with that cute girl with the freckly nose.
2. "A Christmas Story" Believe it or not, I'd never even seen this movie before I met Mark. My first Christmas with the Pellin clan included a late-night viewing of this one with Mark, my brother-in-law and his girlfriend. Hence, "frag-eee-lay" has been part of the household vocabulary for 14 years.
3. "A Charlie Brown Christmas" My kids don't understand why I cry a little bit during this one. It's just, that poor, sweet tree must symbolize how we all feel sometimes until someone shows us a little love. And because---oh, the holidays!
4. Any "Little House on the Prairie" Chrsitmas episode. My kids seriously need to see other kids who get deleriously happy over a skinny little stocking with an orange and a penny in the toe.
5.Little Women--the '90's version with America's favorite five-finger-discount girl, Wynona Ryder. Susan Sarandon is radiant as Marmee, and there's a lot of gorgeous period costumes swooshing about. And more swooning over little Christmas miracles like oranges and sausage stuffing.

Hope ya'll had some poigniant viewing moments this holiday! See you in 2008!

Thanksgiving rocked!

2007-11-30T03:43:00.000-08:00

Best Buds Nate and Uncle Dew
Snow what fun!
I am thankful. And apparently eleventy feet tall.

This year we travelled to Ohio for Thanksgiving to see Mark's sweet aunt and uncle. I was more than a little apprehensive about the drive, but the kids handled it beautifully. Mark and I were more than a little amazed. In fact, I'd say that was probably the greatest blessing of all!
This was the first time I'd been out of state for Thanksgiving in.. .well. . .my lifetime. But we'd been itching to get up north and visit and around Halloween we decided this would be the best time for everyone. My Mom-In-Law Extraordinnaire, Barb, travelled with us. She sat up front and I sat in back between Liv and Nate, an arrangement we worked out somewhere around Beckley, W. Va. when the "He's looking at me!!" stuff started (hey, we still had our standard sibling moments). Mark took command of our massive rental vehicle the whole way up and the whole way back, for which I am also truely grateful.
There were many cool, almost magical things that occurred on this trip that made it more than a worthwhile way to spend the holiday:
1. The kids got to see the street where Daddy grew up, an idyllic little stretch of Boardman, OH with one beautiful,Norman-Rockwellesque house after another.
2. The hotel we stayed in was simply awesome. It's called the Dutch House, and although it has 100-plus rooms it had a very country-inn feel. They were already decked out for Christmas, with two huge trees in the lobby and several decorated fireplaces. The buffet straight from their own bakery every morning didn't hurt either.
3. We got to see Mark's dear friend from high school, Bernie Vogel. At one point he told Nate, while pointing to Mark, "I would kill or die for this guy. Do you have a friend like that? That's important in life." Nate paused for a moment and said, "My Grandpa. And also Uncle Larry." I beamed.
4. Mark and Uncle Dew got to celebrate their birthdays together, with two adorable cakes presented to them by the kids. And nobody dropped one!
5. Four letters: S-N-O-W. The real stuff, people. It started coming down late Thursday night and by Friday morning we had a gorgeous 2-3 inches. We were the only yahoos out sledding in it, but we didn't care. Mark said I was as bad as the kids; my nose was pressed to the hotel window, watching each little miracle float to the ground at 7 a.m.
6. Mark's cousin Pam, a walking piece of awesomeness who happens to be a teacher too, brought scads of leftover Thanksgiving crafts from her classroom so the kids could get their creativity on while the adults visited.
7. The coffee. Oh, the coffee---Seattle's Best, specifically, at the hotel. And the scrumptious Peppermint Mocha from the drive-thru Starbuck's in West Va. on the way home. Just the eye-opener Mama needed. Thanks, Mark!
8. Watching Nate and Olivia gleefully push Dew in his wheelchair. His new way to roll is pretty cool in their eyes.
9. Playing Apples to Apples with Barb, Pam and Mark after dinner.
10. Stopping at Cracker Barrel on the way home. Oh, and making it home in under the estimated time. Hey, I'm Woodrow Boyd's daughter---it's all about making good time. Right, Dad?

The plague of the potty-mouths

2007-11-11T05:05:00.000-08:00

I think every parent I know (except maybe Pastor Trevor) has a story or many, many stories about how their child once blurted out a curse word at the most inappropriate moment.

It usually turns into one of those I'd-kill-you-if-this-weren't-so-GD-funny times.

We've had one particularly horrifying/hilarious gem lately, and I wanted to jot it down before I forgot it. Also so I can return the torture to my children one day by telling the story to their prom date.

So we're in the van the other day, me at the wheel and the kids in the backseat in their boosters. Nate had two pieces of his Halloween candy clenched in his hands, so of course the moment I'm strapped in and backing out the driveway, he immediately drops them. This hasn't really occurred to me until now, but the kid pretty much verbalized what his mommy was thinking: "GodDAMMIT!"
Apparently, having your prized dumdum-pop and roll of Smarties plummet from your hands requires a choice selection from the sailor's handbook, in my four-year-old son's opinion.

I sort of froze, about to look up and deliver one of many Sermons From the Rearview Mirror, when Olivia held out her hand to stop me, as if to say she'd handle it. Then she turned to her brother and said, "No, Nate, remember we say GOSHdammit."

At least our mini war on Olivia saying "OMG" was working. There's just something so obnoxious about a little kid saying "God" in that way. The dammit part, well. . .obviously we're a work in progress at Casa Pellin.

There was another, much sweeter Olivia-ism that took place a few months ago. I was chopping up an apple for the kids to munch on while I cooked dinner. Olivia came into the kitchen and asked if they could eat it before dinner. I said yes, that's what it's for. Then she yelled up the stairs, "Nate---come on down---Mommy made us an apple-tizer."

That girl.

Other random, impossibly cute, non-cursing things they say and do:

Nate has called our minister, Pastor Trevor , "Patrick Trevor" since he was about two. He really thinks that's his name.
Olivia recently told Nate's young, very pretty teacher "You smell just like my Grandma!" and she meant it as one of the highest compliments one can receive.
Nate refers to his Bobby, his ratty, much-loved lovie blanket, as a "him," a living being with thoughts and feelings. For example, Bobby cannot be left in the car overnight because he might get cold.
Olivia once told my dad, after he'd just gotten dressed after emerging from the bathroom in his boxer shorts, "Um, I'm glad you have a shirt on now, because before I could see your boobies and it was so disgusting." Just a side note, Dad---you look just fine. "Disgusting" was a new addition to the vocabulary at the time and absolutely had to be worked into every possible sentence.

That's all I can think of for now. Hopefully we'll have more moments like the ones above and fewer backseat swear-a-thons.

They were angels at the pumpkin patch--what happened?

2007-11-06T18:00:00.000-08:00

On a more peaceful day

Have I said that I love my kids? I'm sure I have, and believe me, I do. I love how they accept everything as it is, including their deeply-flawed Mama. I love how they argue over who gets to snuggle next to me on the sofa----hey, working all day and living with a workaholic man (albeit very cute) who works nights can feel pretty isolating, so it's nice to come home and kick back with two people who actually nearly come to blows over who gets to sit next to you!

BUT!! (You know you saw the but coming!) Sometimes I don't think I'll be able to take them into a restaurant until they're about 25. I was really looking forward to this evening; I was going to treat my dear friend Dawn to dinner at one of those burrito places (her pick). Dawn, addition to being super smart, funny and kind, has suffered through about three funerals in the past month and a-half, and I wanted to sit and catch up with her while also celebrating her belated birthday, which was last week.

One of the things that makes Dawn so special to me is that she appears to genuinely love spending time with my kids. Even when they interrupt our conversation 89 times in one hour. Even when SOMEONE *cough*-nate-*cough* accidentally pokes me in the eye with his drinking straw and causes me to scream in pain, thus losing my train of thought AGAIN. Even when they announce they have to go potty immediately after we sit down with our food and I end up spending the next 20 minutes in the bathroom with Olivia, um, I mean someone, who for some reason does no longer likes to do "the number two" in her school's little girls' room. Even when they, when it's finally time to leave, accidentally go out the patio door, then run delightedly around, ignoring their mother's demands that they follow her out the correct door to the parking lot.

But I did manage to squeeze in a couple of updates about my life, and I think I heard Dawn say that she's holding up OK. OH, and she's lost about 70 some-odd pounds in about six months---you look smokin' hot, Dawn! You the hotness! Thick or thin, I love you all the way through. And so do those little monsters of mine.

Anniversaries

2007-09-23T20:33:00.000-07:00

Today I have anniversaries on the brain, of both the wonderful and horrible variety. About one month ago we celebrated five years of being the parents of Olivia, our precious bundle from Ukraine. In May my hubby and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary. In July we helped our little Nate the Great blow out four candles on his Carvel ice cream cake. And, also in July, I thought of my mom, who passed away in July 2005. I still think of her every day, but in the summer, just when the heat starts to suffocate and the asphalt is enough to make every TV reporter fry an egg on the sidewalk, her presence is stronger than ever for me.
Society tells us that two years is plenty of time to be over a thing, but I think for my dad and me, and possibly Olivia too, it took at least a year to go through the cycle of shock, anger and disbelief, and now we just plain miss her. I just think it's so unfair that she didn't get to see the kids grow up (um, did I say I was over the anger part?) but I'd like to believe that she still sees us every day. And I hope we make her proud.