The Gift That Keeps On Giving

We’ve all done the white elephant, but this time it is about something different. It’s about connecting and sharing life with others. It’s about reaching out beyond home and being a part of a community. Whether it’s your neighborhood, your town, club, church or online, it’s important.

Unlike most moms that I connected to, I had a different approach to life. Life found me. As much as I thought myself a planner, I wasn’t. I embraced experiences and ended up learning more from them than I thought. My husband and I got married with one kid and then promptly had two more, moved twice and started a business. I started staying at home after pre term labor with my second child. The first four months were bliss. During that time, we sold our house, packed up and moved our household. Then I was thrust into the world of being a stay at home mom.

I was younger than most moms in the local community. To my two, most had one. I was desperately searching out a new routine when I went to a local park with my two year old and two week old baby. I remember the feeling of exhaustion as I pushed the two year old in the swing with the baby securely attached with a Snugli. When it came time to go home, I remember distinctly the crying of my two year old and my two week old as we went back to the truck. Fully engorged, needing to nurse and dealing with a meltdown, I wondered when mom got a chance to meltdown as well.

I joined some local mom’s groups and checked out a few, but the desire to connect with other real moms wasn’t really satisfied. I got discouraged, realizing that what I wanted and what was presented weren’t the same. My kids came into my life to compliment my life, not to complete my identity. As I struggled to find the balance between the two, I talked to my mom. I would cry, wondering where all the normal people were: the ones that taught function, not just paid for entertainment.

As I spread my wings and pushed out into the community to find out if there really was life out there, I found more friends along the way. One came in the form of a consignment shop. I lived to stop by there for not only the friendship, but also the amazing spread of secondhand maternity clothes and kid’s clothes available. Some of my greatest friends came through visiting the store out of a need to just GO somewhere.

I also joined a local Yahoo group for moms, but I wasn’t prepared for where it would take me. We had one gal that was a very motivated recruiter. She introduced me to the people I would share coffee with for years later. Little did I know these women would shape my years of transitioning from a working mom to a stay at home mom. With some of them, I have developed such deep friendships that I have either met them or I have shared our most private moments and many hours with for the entire time since my introduction.

I have shared several different milestones with these amazing mothers: from graduating from college, several births and a couple of grandchildren to fresh marriages, losing homes, Kindergarten, middle school and the things that no one ever told you about being a mom. All of it meant more and felt more normal shared with other women. It took a while, but through many different avenues I finally found the normal that I was looking for in raising children in real life.

It was a slow start easing into the forum that I would soon call home. I based my norm off of these women I shared my life with every day. Some of us would chat every Friday and Saturday night which was a relief from the transition of fun girl to motherhood. The only other example I had besides my mother was a co-worker I worked with for years. When you are stumbling into a new frontier, the best thing you can have is allies.

Many of these women have become real to me through our relationship online. One from Wisconsin regularly sends a Christmas package from her kids to mine. Our family has sent packages to others as well. We’ve gone to a wedding and spent our family vacation with some that live a couple hours away. We have shared so much more than pictures and our deepest secrets in this place. It is a true example of relationships forged through adversity and small every day victories.

When we moved back to Bend a couple years ago, I was sad to say good bye to our small community in Redmond. I was reintroduced to the yahoo group that I was a part of. Having three kids under three was often overwhelming and made it hard to get out. Many of the women that I was unable to connect with before were now available. I spent many a happy coffee hour with someone that I had previously connected with online. I also met new friends through giving away or selling baby items.

Feeling connected and having conversations with adults throughout the day is so important for stay at home moms. It can turn one of the worst hours of your everyday life into a story you can later laugh at. There is insight, sympathy and suggestions for the tight spots. Most of all, there are hugs and warm words when you need them the most. The company is especially appreciated during the hours that everyone else is sleeping or at work. Our circumstances in our household have changed so erratically during the last couple years. I wouldn’t be able to smile and share this story without the support of our family and these wonderful friends.

Although we are busy throughout the day, it is so easy to pop on and chat for five minutes, making it less monotonous. Mommies need time out too sometimes. This holiday season brings a rush of shopping, programs, parties and baking. In the middle of all of the commotion, it is easy to feel alone. Take some time to talk to a friend, to be there for someone else. The holidays are made to enjoy family and friends, to be together. Reach out; share the love, there really IS life out there!

My heart goes out to some of my local mom friends who are mourning the loss of a friend this week. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

Christmas Time’s A Comin

A couple weeks before Thanksgiving, I was looking at the schedule, realizing how fast it was going to pass. Snow had begun to flirt with the holiday cheer and according to Caitlin, Christmas was near. Our schedule was booked. So, I booked buying a tree in the middle of that. In years past, we have spent fuel and money on a Christmas tree pass to go cut our own. This great tradition in Central Oregon produces some of the funniest, most interesting looking trees you’ve ever seen. Charlie Brown has nothing on the forest up past Sisters.

Before we had three kids, a mortgage payment and other expenses to worry about, going out to find a Christmas tree was all about getting out in the woods. I remember many years when my dad would fire up the beast (the 1986 Ford extended cab pickup) and take it out with my mom riding in the middle of the bench seat, to get a tree. The beast rests peacefully in our driveway this year with the crew cab. After a couple of sparse years, repeatedly burning fuel and funds we didn’t have, we decided that it was worth going to Big Lots to get a $20 fake tree. I had perused the ads for a month and figured that was the best bargain to date. Craigslist was a little discouraging in the tree department. I was still a couple of weeks off from NEEDING a tree, but I wanted to make sure it was taken care of. 

When we arrived at Big Lots to purchase our tree, the kids were exclaiming in glee at the displays.  They wanted one of everything. The selection of trees available only confirmed my expensive taste as I was drawn to the ones that cost the most. When we finally got to the $20 tree, we were a little put off. We circled the aisle again, re-evaluated our choice, and then decided that it was worth the effort. I figured that the staff didn’t share the same enthusiasm towards Christmas. Whoever set it up pry didn’t fluff the tree out right when they put it on display. It would look fine when I got it home and set up. We still had a week and a half until Thanksgiving. 

I got the tree home and set it up. A $20 fake tree is about the equivalent of the permit fee that they charge to cut your own tree. The ironic part is, it is just as Charlie Brown as the ones you cut down yourself. I had told Wayne that I knew I had enough stuff to fill it in. With some effort on my part, it would be okay.  I set out to accomplish my task using greens from the dollar tree that I had bought years ago for decoration. I added some garlands, too, that had a filling effect as well. I felt like it would suffice for Christmas after my additions to the tree.  Wayne was impressed with my effort. Finally satisfied, I had him put it in the garage, waiting for the day after Thanksgiving. 

Thanksgiving day, before we went over to join the rest of my family, I saw the best Craigslist posting ever: a nine foot tree from Costco, with lights not working. If you know Wayne, you know he can fix about anything. He always surprises me with his natural ability to make things work again. I kept thinking, “Oh, it’s only three feet taller than the tree we bought.” I was disappointed when I got the email that it was taken within the first few moments of being posted.  

The day after Thanksgiving, I was just thankful that I’d made our six foot tree fit. I was able to keep the bench that provides enough seating to have many people over comfortably. As I chatted with my mom, drinking my morning coffee, I received an email. It was from the people with the FREE Christmas tree. They wanted to know if we could we come pick it up. Pre-lit, from Costco, it was only three feet taller. I knew the quality had to be excellent. With sheer bliss, I told Wayne to answer his phone when they called to give directions. He was slightly irritated, being in the middle of a website upgrade, but still accommodating. I was kind of confused at why they were so eager to be rid of such a great tree. 

Being the good sport that he is, Wayne agreed to go pick it up. They had stated in the ad that you would need a truck or a van to pick up the tree. As he was leaving, I remember hearing some grumbling, because it was imperative that he pick it up NOW. I immediately messaged my mom, urgent with the need to share. After ten minutes or so, Wayne texted me to tell me that it would be a little big for our place. I took a quick glance at the bench, using it as a reference in size.  It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. We can just take the bench out, like I had planned before. 

A half an hour later, I heard the diesel pull up to the garage and went with glee to meet Wayne as the garage door opened. His expression was still a tad grumpy, but I chose to ignore it. I looked in the back of the truck and there were THREE big boxes! I was really impressed, because the boxes themselves were twice the size of the box our tree from Big Lots came from. We unloaded them into the garage and Wayne coolly passed by me and resumed his post at the computer. 

Feeling a bit elfish, I asked him if he was eager to set that bad boy up. He said no and ignored my excitement. He went back to what he was doing before he was so rudely interrupted. The kids, knowing that dad had gone to pick something up, ran into the garage. They immediately exclaimed “Dad brought home three Christmas trees!” Feeling rather proud of myself, I said “No kids THAT is ONE Christmas tree!” 

Unable to contain the enthusiasm, I broke open the box labeled base. I pulled out the bottom and with a great tug, it came loose. I handed it to Anthem to take into the house. It landed with a thud and she dragged it into the living room. Feeling boisterous by my big score, I decided to grab the bottom of the tree. It was a lot heavier than I realized and I kind of got a hint of why Wayne was so irritated. 

Dragging the bottom of the tree in to set up, Wayne politely ignored me at his computer desk. It was bulky, but I figured, eh, no big deal. It was wrapped up in a conical shape deceptive to its true girth. When I sat it down on the base, I realized WHY Wayne was politely ignoring me. It unfolded into six and a half feet diameter of a tree. It took up the whole living room space between the couch and entertainment center.  My eyes the size of saucers, all I could do is say “WOW”.  The warm feeling of a Christmas miracle began to flood through my spirit. 

Determined to see the tree in its full glory, I went about bringing out the next portion. I went to lift it out of the box and it was a lot heavier than the first part. Shocked, I drug it through the house and gave Wayne the pitiful “help me” look. Casually trying to ignore me, he couldn’t get away from it. That’s when he decided to show me the full effect of my ambitious intention. Ever so helpful, he put the rest of the tree together. It was as tall as the ceiling fan in our living room. You could barely squeeze past it by the couch in our living room. I sat in my chair with my laptop in awe of it. I laughed. Then I laughed even more. Wayne hid himself on the other side of the obnoxious tree, at his desk. He continued to ignore me as nicely as he could while I laughed uncontrollably.

My exuberance about the tree hit full peak. I called everyone I knew to tell them about the massive tree in the middle of our living room. It was the most beautiful fake tree I have ever seen. All put together, only half of the lights worked, but when the remote was on, it rotated too! The tree was so large we had to take out the bench that accommodated guests. It blocked the entire view from the kitchen to the living room. Every time I looked at it, I felt a bit like Clark Griswold. It was a sure sign it would be the best Christmas ever.  I laugh whenever I think about the tree. It reached the little kid in me. It felt like having the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree in the middle of my house. 

The joy of Christmas isn’t necessarily in the tree, or the presents that go under the tree. It’s about the time we spend together as a family. The hysterical story of the Swearingen Family Christmas tree will be one of my favorites for years. The tree did finally grow on Wayne. He had to endure hours of laughter as I sat and rejoiced in my marvelous find. He did remind me that he had the chance to email on the tree as well, but HE knew it wouldn’t fit.  The story of the extravagant gift given away for free is common during Christmas, but this year I will appreciate it so much more.

Investing in Success

A couple of months ago, I was so excited to share how our family was finally recovering from the recession. We had made it through losing a home, a business and living with my parents for a year to recover. The whole year was an amazing journey and beautiful story of how things finally started going right. Wayne had landed a job that quickly promoted him. We went through some music classes that ultimately led to him doing some sound stuff for concerts in Bend. We found a rental home that was perfect to start over in. My gardening took on a whole new level of success with hydroponics and worms.  In November, we were all going to go on Wayne’s health insurance through his work. It felt like we were finally back on track with our lives.  It felt like we could live and dream again.

Wayne and I used to joke that we started out in a full run at life together: got married on the fly, had a kid per year and moved three times.  Our family and our life developed so quickly, we didn’t have the time to build solid roots. It was in the resting and rebuilding time, living with my parents, that I felt we were able to establish those roots after establishing a family. During that journey, we had some of the best family and friends surrounding us, supporting us and cheering us on. They cried with us, they laughed with us and we even lived with some of them.  I felt like we came out of it even stronger than before.

In October of this year, Wayne came home early one day and told me he lost his job. It was so disappointing. However, after a whirlwind year of goodness, I knew the ability to dream and hope was still alive in me.  What I didn’t realize was that we were presented with the chance to walk out one of the most important times of our lives. The joy from the momentum of the beginning of the year would be meaningless if we didn’t continue to carry it through the rough spots.  This has been one of the most significant lessons of my life.

In the past, I preferred to hide from the issues.  I spent the days wishing the problems or situations away instead of dealing with them head on. I didn’t want to share with others or participate in their joy, because I felt so deprived of mine. It felt like we were failing in life. I would retreat into our house, turning off the phone, turning off the computer and not answering the door. For the sake of our pride we would put on a wary façade of making it when we did go out.

However, this time, it is different. I am surrounded by so many fresh reminders every day of how great our life is. We live in a wonderful home that I have fallen in love with every morning that we wake up in it. We live in a neighborhood that has become more than just houses, but alive with people that we love and share lives with. We have a family that is filled with people that are related by blood and others that are just as precious because of the things we’ve faced together. We have a love and a passion for life reflected by the vibrancy that we approach each day with.  I have enjoyed our children, our home and the time we get to spend together so much more this past year.

My husband has inspired me every day with his persistence. He works hard every day that he can, taking each job offered, to make things work. He hasn’t ever complained about any of the jobs handed to him. It would be easy to feel over-qualified and under-appreciated based on his previous experience, but instead, he comes home happy that he is still providing for our family. On the days that he is home, we’ve been able to enjoy and appreciate each other’s company.  He is such a good husband, a wonderful father and a faithful friend. He continues to build my admiration in him through his dedication to doing excellent work no matter what the task.

I feel like when we started appreciating the process of growth, instead of just waiting for the outcome or arrival, we truly began to value the most important pieces of our lives. Every friendship, every trial, every day, is just one more line in the story of who we are and were created to be. The time we invest in the people around us contributes to the success of that story. We’ve been so blessed by all of the people that have been willing to invest in us from past to present. Those seeds of faith we place in others through our daily contact, our friendships and our words, are so important.

It’s the time of year to be thankful and reflect on all of the blessings we’ve received. This year it is so special to me and it is my joy to appreciate every moment of it. Our family has grown through so many challenging seasons. As I look around, I see how beautiful our life is through each of them.  We haven’t really ever been rich according to what other people judge by, but we continue to grow rich in love and relationships.

One From The Archive

I cannot believe how quickly time has passed. We're on to new things and different lessons, but some of the themes stay the same. I am so thankful that I no longer have 3 kids under 3. All of them are now successfully potty trained, but still retain their witty little ditties they do. I laughed out loud, remembering writing this.

August 16th, 2008

Treasures and Terrors

In these great days of raising three healthy, bouncing children, I am beginning to wonder if there is something wrong with my programming. I think I was born without one very important gene: the MOMMY gene. I thought moms were warm, cozy enveloping sweaters of comfort, ever enduring love that always smelled and looked nice. As I look around at the craziness that has become my life, I am pretty sure that I don’t remember my mom yelling at us frequently or looking permanently like she was going to blow her lid. Some days I wake up just not ready to wrap my head around the new mini mind battles that are about to take place. They’ve been happening with greater force, with less and less time in between them. My kids have had a serious case of pushing boundaries often reducing me to tears through the last week. As they torture each other, I find myself wistfully dreaming that I had gone back to work for that $500 a month after paying daycare and let someone else go crazy with a bunch of kids almost the same age.

While dealing with a brutal force of allergies that I can’t remember dealing with before, Carson, 15 months, has been waking up a couple times a morning with high loud pitched screams of torture for the last week or so while he tries to push some monster teeth through his little gums. He woke me up at 5.30 am the other day. Anthem, the three year old mouth, spent a good part of that day in the corner for not listening. Tristen, the two year old exhibitionist, wouldn't keep her clothes on during a play date. Then she came in with a mouthful of just dirt, acting a little odd, so I was positive she ate something she wasn't supposed to. Only a day later, Anthem woke up at the crack of dawn and took it upon herself to wake everyone else up. Through my morning fog I had an intense desire to scream, kick and cry as I heard her go wake her sister, then creep in to her brother’s room, ruining any chance of waking peacefully and blissfully rested at 8 o’clock in the morning.

I am pretty sure I busted one of their little mastermind operations today. This all started when my kids discovered the snap peas that were growing through the garden fence. They took delight in their own private buffet outside. Being the little vegetable enthusiasts that they were, they KNEW that there were better treats inside the fence. Because it was just a bit too quiet out there, I walked around the back yard towards my garden. Anthem, being the wise coordinator that she is at four years old, took off running from the garden fence, yelling “TRISTEN DID IT”. I see my little blonde haired terror bolt from the greenhouse, tomatoes in hand, trying to scale the fence quicker than I get through the garden gate. Carson is just standing there, taking it all in, wondering why he didn’t get his tomato. Sitting on the fence, in a tidy little row, is all the ripe cherry tomatoes that the little grubber could find. The trail of green tomatoes coming out of the greenhouse was more evidence leading to what I really didn’t want to find inside. My only ripe tomato plant had been limbed in search of the greater treats.

Two years ago, I had a similar experience with my first garden. My children have this love for anything and everything vegetable. I was just beginning to cultivate my green thumb. The green onions that grew and grew and grew boosted my pride and confidence in gardening. Every morning I would go outside, tend to my garden and watch the girls play happily in the yard. In the afternoons, I would let them run in and out of the house while I prepared dinner. One evening, I went out to find that they had uprooted almost my entire prized crop and had savored the ends of them as well. GREEN ONIONS! What kids eat green onions? Apparently mine do. I was crushed. My husband, being the loving kind man that he is, had gone out there and gingerly placed the remaining bulbs back into the ground; reassuring me that they would still grow. The next day, my dog took the liberty of digging them up as well. That is when the garden fence became a must.

My kids have impressed me lately with their climbing abilities. The garden fence was cake compared to what they learned to scale first. We have a kennel out in the middle of the yard. It’s fairly tall and pretty impenetrable to other critters. It started out a dog kennel, and then we started housing the new chickens in there. Their roosting box and their food is also in there temporarily until we get the chicken coop started. Right now, they free range in the yard. My kids really enjoy the chickens. They also enjoy the kennel. I started locking it, because it was just gross to look out there and see the kids eating the produce discards that I threw out there for my flock. My husband started a “roof” of sorts for the kennel months ago, in hopes that it would become the floor for the ultimate playhouse. As most of these grand intentions start out, they soon fizzle out when the funds do or another project gets started and there is usually a fair amount of work left undone. My kids think it is really cool regardless, because the floor/roof, whatever you want to call it, isn’t completely done and doesn’t cover the whole kennel. They learned that since I locked the door in front, they could just climb the kennel, drop over the other side and climb down. It’s a little disturbing to look out there and see my children running around in the kennel knowing that they didn’t open the door.

In the whole theme of the insatiable hunger, because I obviously do not feed my children frequently enough, I have been discovering that food disappears rather quickly in our household. Not at the normal rate for starving children, but like I had a tour of preschoolers come through and ravish the snack shelf of my pantry. The other day, while searching for dirty laundry, I found shriveled up grapes under the girls’ bunk beds. They weren’t quite to the raisin point yet. This morning, I went out to get the chickens some cracked corn and found that my children had noticed that we store the food in there. There were three little granola bars, still in wrappers, lying right next to the food bag. I am not sure if they were tucked away there for the chickens, or in case the kids needed a power snack to push their poor shriveling limbs back up the wall of the kennel to get out next time.

Climbing hasn’t been the only problem I have had lately. In addition to the climbing, nudity has become all the rage at my house. It hasn’t really bothered me much as long as I am not required to participate. I figure that you only get to wish you could do that when you become an adult. We are fortunate enough to live on a place with more than an acre for my kids and animals to run on. It’s fantastic. Though we have a busy road that backs up to the pasture, the place has been fenced really well. The pasture is L-shaped and impenetrable for deer, random critters and unwanted visitors. We also have some really good trees to pretty much block the view from the traffic that zips along blissfully unaware that our little place is tucked in here. It’s when the nudity and climbing combined that it really started becoming not so fun or cute.

One day, Anthem came in to let me know that Tristen had climbed the tree next to the hot tub. I figured she was stuck or something, so I rushed out to see what the problem was. She was in a pine tree with nothing but her birthday suit on. As soon as she saw me, she hopped down and said “HI MOM!” That was a little odd. It was more disturbing, though, to look out while doing my morning chores and see the girls playing nude out in the pasture with the dogs. At one point, Tristen decided that it was time for business. That is when her world turned into one great big outhouse. I am not really thrilled with this new point of view. Since then, I have seen her drop her panties on the deck twice. It’s become this new adventure to her. My husband, being a pole barn builder, often takes the kids on ride a longs out to a job site. After this week, of dealing with the peeing wonders, I was leery of the excursion and told him to watch her like a hawk. Thankfully, we had no incidents while out on the job. I thought boys were the ones that you had to worry about that stuff with. I am on girl number two that thinks that is one great trick and I am not even sure I want to start thinking about potty training the little guy.

My kids’ athletic skills are not the only things that they have been showing off. Anthem has a pretty keen mind and has great radar for picking things up. In the same trip out to the job site, we were patiently waiting for lumber, sitting in the shade during the record setting heat wave of this summer. Anthem turned and looked at me, saying “Whew! It’s hot out here! I’m sweatin’ like a pig!” She must have picked that one up from a movie. My all time favorite display of understanding this week was when I was in the other room, getting ready to leave and I overheard Anthem say “Daddy, my attitude stinks sometimes.” After having a challenging week of wondering whether or not my children have hearing problems or I am not being clear enough, there was a bright window of hope that opened. Of course, there was a glimpse of that earlier in the week, when Anthem told Tristen to stop doing something because it was irritating her. For a four year old, her diction is very impressive. Not only that, but she definitely gets an A on verbal application. I wish the same application was dedicated to listening.

Tristen, on the other hand, is still learning to master the art of parroting. She’s got a couple of phrases that are down really well. Try not snorting when your two-year-old turns to you with a twinkle in her eye and starts counting, “1…2…3…” then asks “Do you want a spanking?” or I really found this one funny, “You want a whoopin?” I am guilty of threatening the first one, but I am not quite sure where the second one came from. Tristen’s best phrase right now is one that will forever be dear to my heart. My kids’ John Deere wagon is one of their most prized possessions. It is only natural that it would be used as a reference point in Tristen’s ever expanding vocabulary. The other day, Wayne called her a ragamuffin. Immediately, she turned around and looked him in the eye and said adamantly in her little Tristen voice, “I not a wagon muffin, I TISTEN!”

As I have faced all of these challenges in a week, I am much more thankful that I have great parents that are still alive to tell me that I turned out okay and that they are proud of me. I keep telling myself that's why it is worth all of the insanity. That one day, the child with incredible obstinacy and an obvious hearing problem, will be a mother just like myself and my mother, with incredible wit. I will be able to offer complete sympathy and comfort in my ultimate wisdom of all things. They provide living proof I will make it. I will most likely have an even greater cultivated sense of humor in addition to tons of lovely examples to pass on to my children one day when they face similar trials.

Space Invaders

DISCLAIMER: If you think you are annoying, don’t read this post. The perspective expressed is from the writer, not presented as fact. My counselor says this is normal. She offers temperament training that can further explain this on terms that are friendlier and more conducive to constructive communication of stated views. Let me know if you would like a referral.

Annoying people love me. It doesn’t matter what I do. Really. They LOVE me. I never knew it was possible to have your space invaded so many ways. Personal space, cyberspace, they will find you. It’s one of these things that you just can’t escape sometimes. It’s not really that you want to upset them or burst their bubble, but really, sometimes you’d just like to politely be left out. Then there are other times when you wish you could beg for an invitation but are too reserved to butt your way in.

I am the first to be accused of being the person that you don’t see for years or months at a time that you see again and pick up where you left off. I have no problem with that. I have many friends that I have had for years that I love dearly even though I don’t communicate with them more frequently. Facebook has been fabulous for keeping caught up with everyone. I love it and I do treasure my friends.

But then, there are the space invaders. It doesn’t matter how much space and time you try to put between you, they want to be closer. Space is a healthy thing. I like it very much, almost to a fault. I would wear a space suit out in public if I had one. I worked for a doctor once that was a leaner. It took me a long time to get used to it. It was kind of creepy in the beginning because if he would converse with you with only a couple of inches between your faces. I never quite understood it. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but he was rather tall. He’d bend over and invade your space like patio umbrella that’s too short.

I understand that there are many types of people in this world and I am okay with that. I really enjoy people watching. Sometimes, though, I feel like my world is a little too similar to a fishbowl. I always get the ones that want to press their face up against the surface with their nose making steam on the glass. My kids do that on the patio door and leave smudges all the time. It drives me crazy. Cyberspace seems to have created a false intimacy to the space invaders giving them access to a world that is usually locked behind a brief smile and a casual hello.

You know the ones. When you are standing in a line to get into a concert, they are the stranger that bumps and nudges you or accidently touches your butt because they have no concept of personal space. They don’t apologize for it, either. Even though the line isn’t moving, they are eager to maintain a forward motion.  Or they are the fox hunters: the ones that work overtime to corner you for a hug and then hold on too long. If you choose a different route, they will jump hurdles to tackle you for the contact. If you are like me, you always like to think that you would hug them, but most of the time you don’t. You don’t want to invade their bubble or are too busy maintaining your own bubble. 

There are some people whose constant invasions don’t bother me one bit. I thank God all of the time that I have a husband that LOVES the space invaders and me! When people hug him, he doesn’t get the hamster squeezed too tight look, he just melts into the embrace. In a crowd, he actively searches for people he knows. I like to be hidden. Just not in the folds of some stranger’s sweater or backside.  People’s lack of boundaries doesn’t seem to bother him, but they drive me crazy. I wanna slap a striped shirt on them and ask “Where’s Waldo”?

I always feel bad, because I display my space loving behavior even in my sleep! My husband’s mom made such a great snuggler. He loves to cuddle. I cuddle as long as I can, but then, I move away and stretch out, taking up as much of the king sized bed as I can. I love the cold spots! The kids always sneak into the bed on his side of the bed. That usually pushes the dog to my side of the bed, where he gets inadvertently kicked as I assume the star shaped sleeping position.

This week, I think I would rather be a space invader. I’ve been cooped up a little bit too long, reading historical novels to pass my time between kids, walks and cleaning. I’d gladly take one of those hugs or go have coffee just to listen to some idle chatter between friends. Maybe have someone to go take a walk with or watch a girly movie.  Instead, I think I’ll finish my blog and resume reading my book.

The New Coffee Break

Apparently, this Monday morning, I don’t have anything better to do than to play cat and mouse. Literally: I am the cat. I have a mouse. I have been stalking a mouse for a couple of days now. I don’t know why this is so entertaining. Armed with my camera, I have been determined to shoot this mouse. Preferably as he rests under a green pepper plant leaf. I am a world class photographer and that is what we do. (Not really, but it sure sounded good.)


Last week, the patio door was open while the kids were napping and I heard a scratching on the dog’s dish. The mouse was stealing dog food! It was a hefty load for a mouse of his size. Then yesterday, my husband told me that we needed to put the dog food back inside because the WHOLE bowl, filled up the night before, and was gone. That would have been an all night heist for my tiny little friend. I am assuming that it is the lazy neighbor cat that stalks my birds under the feeder in the back yard. I don’t know what is up with that cat. That was a bowl of expensive dog food. The least it could do is top it off with a side of mouse.


As I was on my conference call this morning, I glanced out to see the brazen little mouse leisurely strolling about my patio like he owned it. What’s worse, he’s been exploring the patio for about an hour and half now. With no fear! He runs and hides in my pepper plants that are still growing next to the house. He’s really not cool like Ralph, he doesn’t have a motorcycle. And he doesn’t seem to be a vegetarian, because he rejected peppers and the tomato that was on the ground. He really liked that dog food. This isn’t a surprise, because it is one of the best foods for small dogs. They tell you this at the store. Its twenty bucks for a tiny bag, but the returns are great. Well, minimal I should say.


So after observing the brazen mouse, I decided to sic Lewis on it. Because you know, he IS a Chihuahua/Rat Terrier kind of dog. Isn’t that what they do? I put the dog out. Anxiously I waited for the great hunt to begin, only to see Lewis walk out to the grass, spin three times, do his duty and then scratch at the door to come in. Whoa! Are you kidding me? Lewis made it abundantly clear that hunting is a lost art in his family tree. They have no function except to wear cute sweaters and curl up on your lap.

Next, I went for the photo op. You know, how fun! Cute little mouse in the garden. Very Beatrix Potter-esque, right? It does have cute ears: round ones. When it hunches it up, it is almost adorable. But I am really not sure how I feel about this creature. You’ve seen Ratatouille! Where there is one, there are millions. I waited and took a few pictures from behind the sliding glass door. It ran off into my garden bed after seeing the movement. Then it stepped out, did a cruise around to see if maybe he’d missed the food dish by chance. It was getting pretty bold coming up to the carpet next to the door, really scrounging for some crumbs or something. I decided to really go for it and stepped out the door.

After chasing it back into the garden bed, I willed it to pose. I had my pink camera clutched in my tight little hand. I realized in a panic that I had left the door open to the house. I dashed across the patio, confounded at my stupidity in leaving the door wide open! The mouse is outside! That’s a great place for it! It was about that time that I realized that. Even though leaving the door wide open wasn’t my brightest idea; neither was playing real life cat and mouse with a mouse.When I came up with the Facebook status: "Note to self: when stalking said mouse, for crying out loud SHUT THE DOOR! Mouse: outside: good." I recognized this had gone a little far.It’s been about two hours of stalking this mouse, taking its picture like paparazzi. I think that it’s time to give it a rest. Coffee hour has really changed, but it still is entertaining.

Legacy of Love

On the way back from Lowe’s today, I listened with glee as my second daughter told me that this was HER plant and SHE rescued it.  She was so emphatic about the ownership, pride emanating from her big grin. When we got home she ran into her bathroom, where she was going to keep it and watered it.  My husband, rolling his eyes due to the crazy amount of plants already existing in our home, strained to see the value of another dollar spent on a plant. However, my heart soared, seeing my passion alive and lighting up my daughter’s face!

I have had a fascinating span of reading this week that took me from pioneers to penthouse apartments in New York. The ironic theme seemed to be survival. The alarming issue was more the prioritizing of what made you a survivor. I suppose it isn’t necessarily fair to put them in the same category with hundreds of years separating the eras for which they were written. However, one was primarily based on money and getting something for an insane price, the other was based on starting a new life based on adventure and experience out of necessity. Alarmingly enough, the arrival of their success or at their destination wasn’t the end. Most people were dissatisfied and still faced the need to obtain something more or deal with other issues. Some were content to just exist in less than satisfactory situations as to not interrupt their new life style or status. Are we really making a living off of this stuff?

In the New York books, artists, writers and actors were shown in an excessive light of constantly being dissatisfied after having gained TOO much. Most of the things that we strive for as regular people would not even be considered good enough for them by their standards. I find it so overly sensationalized that my own desire to go and visit and view New York has significantly been jaded. Having been born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, I find myself reminded that most of us that have been born and raised out here for several generations are the descendants of pioneers, frontiersmen and the lawless. What I found significant in this was the distinct difference in what is important to me versus what is important to those struggling to maintain their lifestyle in the big Apple.

Hope springs eternal in the mind of the romantic. Where do I fit? I ask. Because of my passion for gardening, my home and taking care of my family and friends, I feel as though it is my legacy to leave a romantic's version of life and of love, encouraging people to live their passions. There is no finish line, no arrival point, only living with one hundred percent of what your abilities and ideas are. I have been constantly amazed by the fact that even though the lifestyles differ so much, no one seems to have gained anything different or better than anyone else.  They still face life and lack and desires. I know as families we get caught up in the money dance, thinking we’ll make some, work hard for a few years and then live or have fun or enjoy the kids. Truth of the matter is, we only have one shot at this. We are shaping our future and what we leave behind RIGHT NOW. Money does make the world go around, but this is it.

I thought, working my way up through the medical clinic, that I was building my success. Five years into giving it completely up to be a stay at home mom, the world has another message for me. My experience in the medical from five years ago doesn’t mean anything to anyone right now. It doesn’t better qualify me to get a job.  We get so wrapped up in what we think success and wealth look like. This morning, I saw what it looks like. It looks like love.  It looks like a passion that transforms one ordinary day into the best ever, just in doing what you love.