Fire Wife Katie

Releasing the wee little kraken.

2013-05-21T11:34:00.002-07:00

My daughter's class had the joy of tending to live crayfish in the classroom. Then my daughter had the joy of me saying "yes" when she asked if she could bring one home for us to keep or release.

I told her she could keep it for a few days, but that we would need to release it.

This week we took her crayfish, affectionately named Lobster, on a walk to release him. We went down to the stream, formerly known as the lake.

Lobster must have been thrilled; he was becoming very tired of the constant show and tell with the neighborhood kids. Too much stress for one little crayfish.

It was a gentle, beautiful evening when we walked to the stream.

The kind of evening where each phase of the setting sun, orange through deep purple, lingers in the sky for a really long time.

The days are getting so long. It's good that this is the last week of school, I'm having trouble getting the kids to go to bed since it's still light outside.

"I hear a plane! A plane!" "Where?"

Kind of hard to believe that the days will start getting shorter again in a month. I actually look forward to the days getting shorter. I know, I'm weird.

Bye, Lobster!

Enjoy your fresh flowing water and lack of poking fingers!

The sunlight was in the peach phase when we left the house, and was still in shades of orange when we returned home. I guess I can allow there to be one good aspect to the extra long hot days.

And if any of my children ask, Lobster lived happily ever after in the stream.

In which we build a stairway to the garden.

2013-05-10T22:25:00.001-07:00

The new house came with some old stairs leading down to the garden. I just went through all of my pictures, trying to find a photo of the dilapidated steps. This is the closest I've got:

Apparently the top section of steps were so unimpressive that I managed to never take a picture of them, not even when we removed them last week.

The steps were formed by two planks of wood that at one time were attached to the runners. But over time, they just became loose boards — portals to the black decaying bug condo beneath them. Blech! If you didn't step very carefully, the board at the front of your step would wobble off. Not only were the planks shifty, but there was no railing to hold onto should your ankle give way. No one was allowed down the steps without supervision.

My husband and his dad (and the occasional helper) spent the week building the new staircase and fitting it into the old slot.

My job was to stain them. I tried to choose a color that worked with the existing steps and pavers further down.

These are actually interim steps, until we can do what we really want to do with the slope — create a gradual path down to the garden that cuts in front of the little patio with the chairs. A path that is less stair-y, and more wheelbarrow-y.

I like the new stairs. Every time I go down to the garden, I think "Oh, hey, new stairs!" It's a good thing.

Speaking of the garden, it's really exploding.

Here's the before shot, two months ago:

And here it is now:

I can't believe that this is what the package of seeds that arrived in the mail turned into. Science is amazing!

The tomatoes are going crazy. This is a shot of them two weeks ago.

And now, 14 days later, they've grown over the top of their cages!

Now when I do my daily stare-down of the garden to gawk at how much it has grown, I can stumble on the way there and it will be okay because there's a rail to grab.

Hi, new stairs and rail! I like you.

A handmade present from my 6 year old to my 1 year old.

2013-05-06T15:50:00.000-07:00

When it came time for the baby's first birthday, my daughter went into her typical 8 year old wanna-be mother mode and decided that she needed to make a present for her baby brother. Not only that, but her other little brothers should make presents, too.

They were excited to go along with her grand schemes this time.

One night, they went into the boys' room with paper and markers. I'm not sure what went on in there, but when they came out, my 6 year old had produced this for his baby brother (with help from his big sister):

It's a coloring book! Awww!!

"Dinosaurs are cool and scary." It's a guide to dragons and dinosaurs. Everything a little brother should know about such beasts.

They're mean, and they're nice.

(The meat-eater looks much happier. Just sayin'.)

And, a few important notes about dragons.

This is the last page of the not exactly finished product.

The picture on this one has not been drawn yet.

It should be — um — informative!

A year full of healing and smiling.

2013-04-25T21:47:00.001-07:00

A year ago, we were in pretty sad shape as a family. Happy, but not exactly healthy. A year later, we're still trying to recover and get back to full speed. To help us get back to pre-pregnancy shape, we've signed up for one of those Tough Mudder course races... you know, the ones with mud and electrified wires and obstacles like something you'd see on that show Wipe Out. I'm still not sure how I feel about this! I think it will be fun, but I'm a worrier and I'm nervous about potential injuries. And freezing cold water doesn't thrill me, either. We're still too close to winter for me to think that it's a good idea. But we have until September to get our act together. By then I'm sure I'll long for the freezing water. Maybe. We'll see. (Oh crap, what have I gotten myself into!?!)

In the meantime, our baby turned one year old yesterday!

He is a friendly giant teddy bear of a baby. He smiles all the time, clumsily lumbers along, and does what he can to make the big people laugh. And he's very good at making us laugh. When he takes a bath, he lays flat on his back and he intently and rhythmically splashes his arms and legs from the moment he touches the water, delighted with the sound and feel.

His words are mostly garble with lots of B, M, and G sounds. But he did finally manage to add "Dada" and "uh-oh" to his word list. He also waves goodbye and claps very slowly and inaccurately while looking dumbfounded.

He tries to say "peekaboo," but it comes out with way too many syllables, and wrong ones at that — "bee bee buh guh boo boo!"

He can pull himself to a standing position, but cannot let go. This is very problematic when he needs to clap. He takes a few moments to think about it, then slaps instead of claps, with a big grin.

His cheeks make me want to have twenty more babies.

He eats whatever I give him. He's not picky. It all goes in, and he does the best he can with the only two little teeth he's got.

He is easy to put to bed, just give him a drink and lay him down and he'll usually drift off, but he has trouble staying asleep. He wakes up 2 or 3 times after we put him down for the night. But I'm okay with it, since he usually only wakes up once after 1:00 a.m. and I can live with that.

I love his glossy blonde hair. He doesn't have a lot of hair, but that doesn't keep him from being snuggly. He crawls to me, making happy sounds, and head-butts my leg like the cat does. And while he rarely falls asleep in my arms, when he's tired, he rests his heavy head on my shoulder and gently pats my arm as I gently pat his back.

I love him!

My older children decided to make presents for him. They were awesome. This is a coloring book made by my 6 year old.

My daughter tied a blanket for him,

and the 4 year old drew him a picture.

He unwrapped it, then chucked it at his little brother.

He had a great birthday. He especially loved the little noise makers.

That is, until one betrayed him and poked him in the face.

That was the signal that it was time for bed. I changed his clothes and walked up to his room as he lay his silky head on my shoulder.

This morning, he was so excited to see that all the toys were still here! He has been so content today.

Happy birthday, Mr. Chubbles! Thank you for this past year of baby awesomeness!

You can find his birth story here.

Poor compy.

2013-04-22T16:35:00.002-07:00

My computer has not been working well this month. It had a string of problems, culminating in the refusal of my external hard drive — the one with EVERY SINGLE PICTURE on it (I know, my bad) refusing to run. After finally getting the computer to boot properly, we discovered that the external hard drive had been damaged in the less than skilled attempts we had made at getting the computer to boot. I nearly cried when I found out that our entire family history in photos was on the chopping block.

Thankfully we have a couple of wonderfully skilled friends that were able to talk us through the various problems, large and embarrassingly small. ("Um... all you have to do is take out that disk and it should boot....")

For the ominous external hard drive problem, we had to let the computer do it's thing and sort through and fix all of the files on that drive. It sat there, working, for nearly 2 days. I had no idea it would take so long!

But thankfully, it worked!! And now my compy is finally back, and so are my pictures. Phew! Note to self: take the time and money to back up the files. Now.

In the meantime, here's what we've been up to.

My husband has been home on disability for his finger. He goes back to work at the end of the week; it will be hard to see him go. I've loved having him around. He gets the lunches together in the morning while I get the kids dressed, then he drives them to school. We work on projects around the house together, I pick up the kids, then one of us cooks dinner. After putting them to bed, we watch Big Bang Theory. He goes upstairs to get anyone that wakes up while we're spending time together, while I get a chance to sit still; I get the kids that wake up in the middle of the night. Our days run so smoothly.

I'm going to miss him! Our April has been domestic bliss.

Our garden is coming along nicely, even though the slugs are testing my patience. We are already harvesting some things from the garden, including the herbs and the lettuce.

We walked down to the lake to see how it was doing the other day.

I expected the lake to be full, since it is spring and all. Wrong. The lake was still just a stream and puddles on our side of the dock.

But it was still good to get out into nature, lake or no lake.

We also had a series of storms, one of which caused a lightning bolt to land right outside our yard. My husband happened to be looking out the window in the right direction when it hit. The kids still talk about the lightning bolt and are having nightmares. At least there was no resulting fire, which has been a long-time fear of my 6 year old. If anything, it was good to be able to show him that when lightning strikes nearby, usually nothing more happens than a loud bang, and maybe a power outage.

Other than that, we have been spending our time getting the house and yard ready for our in-laws to move in.

Look! We even cleaned the garage!

(Or, er, HE cleaned out the garage... I cheered and wept when the floor became visible.)

The in-laws are buying a house in our area, and while they look, they will be staying with us. I am so happy that we are at a point in our lives that we can help our family. For so long — too long, it was the other way around. I love that we can be the helpers now!

It will be wonderful to finally have family in the area. We have been disconnected from everyone since moving to this half of the state, and we have been actively trying to recruit friends and family up here.

"Oh, you can just convince your boss to let you telecommute! It's only 7 hours away from your job...."

Apparently, the key is to wait for people to retire first before talking them into making the move.

So... we got the in-laws to move... who's next??

"That's how you spell my name!"

2013-04-04T11:00:00.000-07:00

This rosy-cheeked little one just had a fourth birthday.

Not long ago, in preparation for school (and life in general), I taught my newly-minted four year old how to spell his name. I made a little tune to go with it:

"E. M. M. E. T. T. That's how you spell your name!"

He's been practicing it for a while now. I'll catch him humming his name tune while he's doing random things like washing his hands or getting himself buckled in the car.

He's been trying very, very hard to make sure he says it the right way.

But for some reason, no matter how often he asks me how his name goes, (and he asks a lot), he says it wrong every time:

"E. T. T. E. M. M. That's how you spell my name!"

Every. Time.

It's actually very cute, and I am sure I'm subconsciously sabotaging him by being so entertained when he sings it wrong.

But I can't help it.

I love four years old! It's a great age.

He was so delighted with his birthday. You could just see him saying "All this? For ME?!?!?" It didn't matter how big or small the gift was.

Even something as simple as a frisbee made him do this:

He felt very special.

Oh how I love him!

Here is his birth story, which contains wee little baby pictures. I can't help but stare at them. It is strange to see my children now, and compare that to what they looked like when they were born. It's fascinating to take a step back and look at how much change has happened in the last four years. How did I miss all of this change? I've seen them every day... yet somehow, they've managed to change so drastically.

Happy birthday, my little big four year old! I love you!

Apparently Easter really means "look anything but civilized in front of the camera day."

2013-04-02T20:39:00.001-07:00

These kids.

Spring break and Easter coincided this year.

By the time Sunday rolled around, well, you can see from many of the pictures just what state of mind the kids were in... and what state of mind I was in!

It was a combination of very tired, very silly, and very over-stimulated.

I take the meaning of Easter seriously, don't get me wrong. And there were discussions about the atonement and Christ's life and death. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that those discussions were stuffed with silliness from at least one party or another.

These pictures are from a lovely egg hunt we went to on Saturday. The silliness was just beginning.

That night, we decorated our eggs with civility and decorum.

(What does decorum technically mean, anyway?)

1. dignified propriety of behavior, speech, dress, etc.

Yep. Dignified. (He has a hard time pulling off "undignified." He's just too sweet!)

At least we can fall back on cute; that's almost as good as dignified.

The cool end result of multiple dye baths and lots of kid-handling:

The next morning, the kids searched for their baskets.

Hey look, I handled myself with decorum, too!

After church, we attempted to take some pictures of the kids in mostly clean clothes.

I think that waiting until this point of the day to take "nice" pictures, after all the fun and sugar, may have been a mistake.

I don't know why I try for so long to take nice pictures. I always prefer the "keeping it real" ones, but those pictures are impossible to stage. They only happen when I'm trying to get the kids to be serious. Yet I don't stop after getting some good silly pictures; I keep pushing through until we get a few nice ones, too.

Oh, hey, that's almost normal!

That's my almost 4 year old, describing how big his burp was at church. *Sigh.*

Dinner was more of the same, with the addition of herbed rolls and cheesy potatoes au gratin. Oh the potatoes! Carb heaven.

Happy Almost Civilized Easter, from my family to yours!

Garden installation, the Netflix queue, and an injury...

2013-03-19T22:17:00.001-07:00

It's been very spring-y around here. The trees are in full pink and white mode, the air is thick with the sound of frogs and the scent of pollen, and the garden is finally in.

The dirt for our large raised garden bed was supposed to be in stock at the nursery before my husband went in for surgery. I don't know what it is about this time of the year and surgery, but here we are on disability, again. This time, the misery is a lot less intense (and so is the reward).

We knew this surgery was coming — a ruptured tendon repair on my husband's pinky finger. I'll let him tell you the story of his work-related injury (emphasis on "story.") Warning — in the next day or two he may post a picture of his finger during surgery. So don't go there if you don't want to see what a tendon looks like from the inside!!

Since my husband has been home, we have been tearing through our Netflix queue. We just finished watching Firefly. What a disappointingly premature ending to a good series! "Welp, here I am..." At least Adam Baldwin and Nathan Fillion showed up in other shows (which we've also seen already.) We are currently test driving some new-to-us options, to find our next addiction. I've heard good things about Arrested Development.

Anyway, the dirt was supposed to be in stock before he became incapable of doing anything but setting up Netflix. But only one of the three loads came in on time. At least he was able to get that load in and frame out the garden before-hand, which was a big project.

One of the loads:

Our plants had outgrown their pods and they needed to go in the ground, so I got to shovel and haul and dump and spread the rest of the dirt on my own. I lost a pound that day, but I was able to get it done by myself.

Okay, well, I did have *some* help.

Our yard slopes down to the west. The garden bed is on a terrace that the previous owners had dug out of the far side of the slope.

They had planted grass in this area, which I don't understand, since there's no easy way to get a lawn mower in there except down a VERY questionable set of wooden stairs.

But the terrace does work well as a garden, as long as we keep plants that like some shade next to the wall and manage to not fall down the eroding stairs ourselves. The steps will get updated as soon as my husband is able to bend his pinky again.

That flowering plant on the left is broccoli, the only thing that has survived all versions of our garden.

It isn't the prettiest garden and it's not done yet, but it seems to be working pretty well! A week later, all of the plants are thriving. So far, the woodland creatures and the slugs haven't found the terrace yet. Or, if they did, our preventative measures are preventing.

I find myself going down and simply staring at the garden. I'm not sure what I think I'll see; not much changes from one day to the next. But I do go and stare at it at least once a day. I just stand there... staring....

In the meantime, while we wait to be able to pull veggies from our own garden, we have fresh produce delivered to our door once a month.

It's a happy mail day when the random goodies arrive. I like trying to figure out a way to cook with them.

Hopefully our own veggies will be this good!

Tell you what — it's nice to be coherent enough to enjoy spring this time around. This is our second spring in our new house, but I don't remember much of it at all last year, with the birth and the surgeries.

So this year, I'm soaking it all in.

Chubbily baby cheeks, and evolving sources of happiness.

2013-03-07T17:54:00.001-08:00

I am happy. I smile a lot. I can't help it! Even though I am stretched beyond the boundaries of my patience with my children at least once a day, and even though it's near impossible to keep up with the messes in the house — let alone my car, and even though there's always something that we need that we can't get yet, and even though I'm usually pretty tired, I am happy.

Here's why:

Babies are cute, and little kids are awesome.

(And apparently, he plays the harmonica.)

I don't think we should underestimate the cuteness of babies. There's some potent happy-making power in those miniature people!

My 10 month old just learned how to play peek-a-boo. But when he covers his face, he does it with so much enthusiasm that the cover just keeps going up and he peeks out from under the blanket, which is now on top of his head, instead of from behind it. But no matter. He's clearly so thrilled with himself for learning a new way to communicate with the big people. He doesn't care about the technical correctness of the game. He wants to make *ME* laugh — that is his obvious goal. The role-reversal is fascinating to watch.

Another thing he does that makes me smile:

I keep finding him asleep in this position.

He's such a loveable little guy! Just when you think your baby can't get any more adorable, he learns to crawl and he starts clomping after you with a large-headed, unsteady hobble.

He grins, making happy heavy breathing sounds, while wielding the full power of his cuteness love gaze. Then he reaches you, wide-eyed, and excitedly pats your cheek with his chubby, dimpled fingers. Ahhh!

It makes me want to snuggle against his glossy hair.

At some point, that disproportionately large-headed cuteness wears off, but then we're left with amazing little people who do amazing little things. Like learn to draw triangles for the first time ever, and practice on every sheet of paper and wall/furniture/appliance within reach — because he's so stinkin' excited about his new skill, that he just can't contain himself!

Or, the genuine sweet concern they have for each other. My daughter, a late-comer to the flu games, was out for a week from school with a high fever a little while ago. We set her up in the guest bedroom, since it has a television, a bed, and a bathroom nearby.

My 1st grader was so thoughtful. He felt compelled to help her in some way, so he put together this little offering of a book and a project he made at school.

I had to stop him at the door for a moment so I could go grab the camera.

My near 4 year old is entering a sweet phase, too. He is so tender with the cat, and with his little brother.

He often pulls his chair up like this to help feed the baby. And when I praise him for doing something kind-hearted, you should see the beams of pride and happiness in his smile! I love, love, love it.

Then, as they get bigger, those amazing little accomplishments get bigger and bigger, too. And then they start achieving real accomplishments — things that both of us can be proud of.

The baby cheeks don't last forever, and that does make me sad. I will miss having a cutie patootie scooting across the floor. I don't have teenagers yet, so I don't know what motherhood will look and feel like at that point. But after seeing the older ones pass beyond the baby phase, I am hopeful that the deeply compelling love, in evolving forms, will stick around.

Pop!

2013-03-05T00:50:00.002-08:00

Well hello there, Spring!

Just in the last week, I've noticed that the woodland creatures are returning. Deer are wandering the streets. Swarms of birds, with their loud variety of calls, are stopping by the lake for a breather. Winter is out, and Spring is in. Everything's popping!

Pop!

Pop!

Almost pop!

Pop! Pop!

Pop!

Pop pop popopppp pop pop pop! Pop!

"Look! Mom! The strawberries are growing!"

He showed me the little white flowers that appeared today, then stared and poked at them for some time.

The baby's first tooth finally popped out this week, too!

The less desirable elements of spring are popping up out of nowhere as well, like ants, mosquitoes, yard work...

And snakes! I have no idea how this one made it into the house!!! (I'm pretending that I left a door open... because that would imply that it didn't come in through some crack, and I have the ability to keep them out of the house as long as I keep the doors closed!)

And finally, the element of Spring that I am the most excited about popping forth...

Froggies! We heard the first one this past week. I love listening to them ribbit in chorus at night. In a month or so, we'll have hundreds of them down by the small stream that feeds the lake.

The frogs have achieved icon status for me. The very first night I slept in our new house, I set up an inflatable mattress in the empty master bedroom. My job was to paint the living room the next day, while my husband stayed at the old house with the boys and continued packing. My daughter came with me; she was going to the new school, for the final two weeks of the year, just to get to know some classmates. She and I laid there that night, too excited about the new adventures we were going to have in our new neighborhood to fall asleep. Inside, the fireplace kept us warm. Outside, the frogs were at their peak. They were new and exciting, and we listened to them as we fell asleep.

I love it when the frogs come back in the spring! To me, their chorus signals new beginnings. I've been smiling all week — each time I have a moment to be still and listen to the frogs. Love, love, love listening to them.

It *almost* makes up for finding a snake in the house!

10 things I didn't set out to buy at the dollar store, and one I did.

2013-02-26T17:13:00.001-08:00

I went to grab something from the dollar store. One thing. Here are ten items I ended up buying, which are not that one thing.

1. Large plastic baskets. I have piles of socks at my house. And underwear. Piles and piles, for different people. My laundry is overrun with sock and underwear piles. I saw these and thought "hey, now my sock piles can have a home." (Currently, only one basket is being used for its intended purpose. The rest have disappeared into rooms, and I don't know what their fate has become. But at least one of my sons has a sock/underwear basket that contains socks and underwear!)

2. Favor boxes. I am in charge of putting together a basket of goodies for my son's class, to be auctioned off at the school as part of a fundraiser. I have been thinking about how to package the gift cards, and these favor boxes seemed like they might work.

3. Pencil sharpeners. Because I don't want to be asked again where a pencil sharpener is. I figure these will give me a good week, maybe two, before someone asks me where their pencil sharpener went. I have no idea where all the pencil sharpeners end up! Someone's hoarding them.

4. T.V. remote. Because I have a grabby 9 month old who thinks I'm being terribly cruel to not allow him to hold the remote. This is for him.

5. Tape. Refer to explanation for number 3.

6. Pens. Refer to explanation for number 3.

7. Glass vase fillers. These are for the sand table that the younger kids got for Christmas. Except instead of sand, we filled it with aquarium gravel. It's easier to sweep up and dump back in, but small enough to scoop. Using gravel instead of sand has also allowed us to drill holes in the sand side of the play table, to allow the water to drain. Now it contains gravel and these large glass treasures, and no unwanted water.

8. Plastic spoons. Because my daughter convinced me to buy applesauce for her school lunches. So I bought the spoons to go with them. The applesauce, as well as the spoons, remain untouched. We'll have to push the applesauce a little harder this week.

9. Coffee filters. I don't even drink coffee! I use these as disposable bowls for the toddlers I take care of in the church nursery. See, there's a problem with the standard disposable bowls. Toddlers understand physics maybe a little more than we give them credit for. Place fruit snack on bowl. Smack side of bowl with hand. Watch fruit snack fly! But the coffee filters are rigid enough to hold a snack, yet floppy enough to prevent blast off.

10. Plastic shot glasses. I don't even drink shots! I got these to mix small things in, like epoxy, and the small amount of hair dye I use to color my eyebrows.

And here's what I actually went to the dollar store to find in the first place:

Light bulbs!

"I didn't get ANY valentines."

2013-02-15T00:47:00.000-08:00

Two years ago today, we saw our house for the very first time. It was love at first sight. Every Valentine's Day I am reminded of how blessed we are to be here, with each other, with this job, in this house, with these children, in this amazing neighborhood. We count our many blessings every day, but on Valentine's Day, I count them a little more tenderly.

Everyone around here loves Valentine's Day. Well, everyone except the almost 4 year old. He wasn't too fond of the holiday when we went to pick up his older siblings from school and they brought home bags of goodies with them.

Anyone who has come to know a nearly 4 year old soul can tell you how much emotion such a little person can feel. He amplifies every emotion; he can't help it. His filters and self-control mechanisms aren't big enough to contain all of the feelings that life throws at him. And today, life threw at him a sense of being left out of something wonderful. His downcast eyes and quivering chin said it all as he looked at the piles of cards and treats.

"But I didn't get *ANY* vawentimes, Mommy."

(Insert broken heart.)

Poor little guy. His older brother and sister gave him some of their candy, but he still felt slighted most of the afternoon. He was just not going to forget that everyone else had a personal stash of valentine treats.

Thankfully, a "secret admirer" dropped off some gifts at the front door, one of which was for the down-trodden soul. He finally had some Valentine's Day goodies of his own. All was well!

I love how these kids look out for each other. After dinner, the older two went above and beyond to help my 3 year old feel fully involved in Valentine's Day. They decided to throw a party on his behalf in the clubhouse. It was already bedtime, but I made an exception and let them stay up since they didn't have school in the morning. I left them in the closet while I put the baby down for the night and grabbed the camera.

Activities included a candy picnic and sorting conversation hearts.

They even gave me some of their stash.

Later they did some gymnastics in the living room, to which my 6 year old objected. He pouted on the couch until the others were done. In his defense, it was WAY past their bedtime, and an enormous amount of sugar and red dye #40 had been consumed. At that point I called it a night and sent them up to bed. On their way, my older two discussed which holiday is better — Valentine's Day, or Halloween. (Halloween won. More candy.)

Then, as they went into their separate rooms, my son stopped his big sister and gave her a hug. "Happy Valentine's Day!" Then he tracked down his little brothers and did the same.

It made me smile. I am head over heels in love with these kids!!

I was rummaging in my purse today and I found some Christmas cards the older two had written for me. I submit them as Exhibit B as to why I love my children so much:

The thing that makes me smile about these, other than the fact that my 6 year old son isn't tall enough to do the VAST majority of the dishes, and my daughter is apparently 8 going on 28, is that the kids see these tasks as a privilege, not a chore. My son LOVES to help with the dishes, and asks every time if he can help. And my daughter is the same way about taking care of her baby brother.

Last night, when I told her that Dad was going to be working the following day, she got excited. "Yes!! I get to be like the replacement Dad! Can I PLEASE try to help the baby get back to sleep if he cries and I'm awake?" Unfortunately she is only 8 and not 28, so not only do I have to turn down her offer to watch him for a week, but I also have to tell her no when it comes to night time baby duty. He weighs 23 pounds now; that's pretty much half her weight!

My daughter adores helping out, (as long as it doesn't involve picking up her dirty clothes,) as do her siblings.

And I adore them. I have so much to be grateful for today.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Herbed Tomato Soup

2013-01-30T14:38:00.000-08:00

I am addicted to this simple soup.

I first started making it as a way to use up the tomatoes that were bursting out of our garden, but now that the tomatoes are long gone, I can't stop making the soup!! The sweetness of dill weed paired with tomatoes is one of my favorite flavors. I guess if I'm going to be addicted to something, this is a good option. It is pretty healthy — with around 95 calories per serving, and 10 carbs.

Ingredients:
8 - 10 small tomatoes, or 4 - 5 big ones — enough for about 4 cups when chopped.
1 sweet onion
1 can chicken broth
1 tsp dried basil
1 tsp dried dill weed
1/2 tsp salt
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp flour
1 tsp sugar

Yield: 5 servings

Begin by chopping the tomatoes and the onions.

Place in a large pot and add a can of chicken broth the basil, dill weed, and salt.

Simmer for 20 minutes.

Process the soup mixture by using a food mill, a blender, or a food processor. I like to use a hand-held bender. Process it well, since the next step is to work the soup through a strainer.

Pour the soup into a large strainer placed over a bowl. Rinse out the pot; we'll be using it again.

I'm using the "hewitopter" spoon as my 3 year old calls it — because of the cut-out portion of the spoon — to stir and scrape the mixture through the strainer.

When strained, begin making a roux in the cleaned pot. Heat two tablespoons of butter and two tablespoons of flour over medium heat. Whisk vigorously and continuously while the flour cooks to a medium brown. Have the strained soup at hand to add to the roux when the flour is browned.

Add the soup to the roux about 1/4 of a cup at a time while continuing to whisk, to gradually thin out the mixture.

Taste the soup to determine the sweetness. Dill weed and basil are sweet herbs; depending on the ripeness of the tomatoes, sometimes the soup is sweet enough that I don't even add the sugar.

I eat this soup with quesadillas made with low-carb tortillas when I'm dieting. I also pour leftover servings into freezer bags and have them on hand when I need a quick meal. In fact, I'm going to heat some up right now as soon as I'm off the computer. Putting this recipe up has made me hungry!!

Quarantine Club

2013-01-25T12:43:00.001-08:00

The kids were in lock-down this last weekend since they all had the flu. Playing in the cul-de-sac with the neighborhood kids was forbidden, which is so hard on them, when they can see their friends playing just yards from the front windows. Having multiple children close in age has some drawbacks (such as the flu x4) but there are are benefits as well — at least they can all play with each other when they have to stay inside.

They have each other as playmates, and they have a determined leader to make sure that playing together is very structured and thoroughly thought out. I think my daughter's calling in life is to become either President, or an event planner. Afternoons with her usually involve some sort of checklist.

The kids noticed last weekend that the closet that extends under the stairs is woefully under-appreciated. It's a cool, odd-shaped space with a surprising amount of square footage. It's hard to get to, so we don't have anything more than some flattened moving boxes in the space.

My daughter thought it would be fun to turn it into a clubhouse, inspired by an AMAZING one a neighbor with the same floor plan created for her preschool. So, my daughter got to work. Once she has a scheme in mind, she runs with it... and runs... and runs... sometimes leaving her little brothers in the dust, exhausted with her endless plans.

I heard the muffled sounds of the kids chatting and going in and out of the closet, but I didn't know exactly what they were doing in there. All I knew was that they were looking for a flashlight. After a good hour or two of playing, they excitedly showed me what they had been working on.

My husband was on duty when this all went down. I told him about their little club.

"Cool," he said, "they should put chairs in there."

"Oh, they have chairs in there already," I pointed out. "Not only do they have chairs, but they have RULES for the chairs!"

Their first order of business was to discuss (or, more likely, dictate) the rules.

— All chairs have to be in a corner
— Have to be there all the times you can
— If you break a rule you get punished
— Have to have one picture in gallery

They also put together a loose schedule. Included in the schedule is "recess," where they have play time outside of the clubhouse until a buzzer goes off.

For their first meeting, they brought markers in there and colored self-portraits depicting what they want to be when they grow up:

A ballet dancer, a football player, and a paleontologist.

Other club activities have included a picnic in the living room,

writing summaries of their favorite stories for a book club,

(My first grader's Calvin and Hobbes synopsis cracks me up!)

making valentines,

and they even had a gym class where they went in the living room and practiced doing cartwheels and somersaults.

Oh, and they made trash cans out of empty formula containers, and designed houses for Pepper the cat using boxes.

My children are feeling better now, but the days have been rainy so they're still stuck inside.

They're still having fun with it, as long as I keep my daughter in check. Someday she will learn to harness her endless, sharply-focused creative energy and use her powers for good. Unfortunately for her brothers, who have been reminded by the diligent task master one too many times that they NEED to finish their self-portraits under threat of enforcement of the club rules, today is not that day! Today is coerced fun club meeting day.

Crawling in Reverse

2013-01-24T13:13:00.001-08:00

My 9 month old baby still has a hard time rolling over from front to back. He has back to front down, but then he gets stuck.

He hasn't caught on that he has to move his arms out of the way if he wants to make it onto his side. Those pesky arms keep acting like stabilizers!

Lately he has been pushing his tummy up off the ground with his arms and swinging his legs into side splits, in an apparent botched attempt to roll end over end instead of side to side.

A few weeks ago, he pushed himself far enough to make it through the side splits into a sitting position. He was stunned! Since then, he has been trying to use his new skill to get him places.

This week he learned to push himself up to sitting, then lunge forward to get his knees under him into a crawling position. It's a complicated, time-consuming process, but no matter. Some skills are too compelling, and he keeps trying.

See object of desire... push up to sitting... lunge forward toward object... get on knees...

But this is where his plan falls apart. He can't get his knees to scoot forward. So he does what has worked in other situations — he uses his arms to push some more.

Mobility!!

The only problem is, the arm-pushing makes him go in reverse!

He keeps finding a way over to the slippery tile, then pushing himself into a corner — far, far away from where he wants to be. It's an endless source of frustration for him. Poor baby.

Nobody puts baby in the corner. Except baby. (And once he gets there, he likes to lick the floor. Of course.)

January Happenings

2013-01-11T12:33:00.002-08:00

School started back up this week. It's been a difficult transition, turning all of the alarms and reminders on my phone back on and getting used to being the enforcer of the time constraints again. My daughter keeps asking me to let her stay up late and wake her up early so that she can read her recent find — her dad's stash of Calvin and Hobbes comic books. She's not liking the return of the school sleep schedule.

All of us were home for the better part of three weeks over the break. We were very quiet and still, and very unconstrained. Our days were sleepy as we fought off illnesses on several fronts. It was nice to be still after the holiday rush. But now it's time to go, go, go again.

This week the house lost its Christmas spirit, the kids are resisting the time structure (especially my three year old), and the tile floors downstairs are a frigid reminder that we're dropping below freezing at night. And apparently, one section of my kitchen cupboards is not insulated; I get a shot of cold air every time I open those particular doors. But at least we're all healthy now.

I ventured into the yard the other day, to see what's going on out there and to remember that nature is constantly changing and working on the next big thing.

My trees are almost devoid of leaves. This makes the sounds of traffic on the nearby road noticeable.

The trees seem to be confused. Doesn't it look like those buds are swelling and bursting already?

My garden has finally given up. I pulled a few of those tomatoes that looked like they might just ripen inside, and made the last bowl of tomato soup for the season. I'm already scheming to plant new seeds, and trying to figure out when is the best time to start them inside.

Our test garden is going to be taken down soon, to make room for the permanent beds this spring when we plant. I'm excited; I bought all sorts of heirloom veggies this year, and am anxious to see if some of the seeds I harvested last year are good.

I also want to plant a fruit tree of some sort this year. And maybe some flowers. Speaking of flowers, our winter blooms have begun to pop open. It's a reminder that there is still some warmth in the afternoons.

Let's see... what else is going on....

We celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary this week! I'm humbled by how blessed we were to find each other. There's no one else I'd rather hang out with for hours at the end of each day.

Oh, and did I mention this? My littlest one now says Mama!

This is big news; it brings the final count in the first word contest (Mama vs. Dada) to a tie. I can live with a tie!

It's my party...

2013-01-03T12:38:00.002-08:00

My birthday was a few weeks ago. We had it all planned out. We lined up a babysitter — the first non-friend or extended family babysitter, by the way — and were prepared to go to dinner at a friend's house. There were going to be adults there. And food. It was going to be fun!

I planned on doing some much-needed chores when my husband got home, since he had been gone for three days. I figured at some point there would be cake, flowers, and maybe a present or two similar to the ones I got last year (unwanted toys lovingly selected and wrapped by my children).

Then I got the "I'm mandoed tomorrow" text.

Sigh. Granted, this wasn't nearly as jarring as a Halloween last-minute mandatory, but still. It's hard to share my spouse sometimes!!

I was disappointed. My birthday has never been a big deal, and the messages on Facebook are more than enough to make me smile, but we had plans! I was sad that it was going to be one of those birthdays where I would have to throw my own little party if I wanted to celebrate. And honestly, that's hard to do. I'm not sure why, but it's hard to buy my own cake and light my own candles. It shouldn't be that hard.

The kids were more disappointed than I was; they seem to think that it's just plain WRONG to not party in some way on one's birthday. I tried to explain that a celebration would come later when Dad was home, but they would not have it.

So, they do what young kids directed by an 8 year old can do on their mother's special day — they got paper and markers from the neighbor and surprised me with some cards.

I had a present to open that a friend had dropped by, so we were covered on the gifts. I decided that the best gift I could give to myself was to not cook. So, we ordered some Thai food, sang Happy Birthday, and called the celebration complete.

It makes me smile to know that I've got my kids to help me celebrate my special day, when all other plans fall apart and I'm too self-conscious with a side of depressed to celebrate it myself. If it weren't for them, I would have let the day go by without doing something special. Which is sad. We should feel comfortable celebrating our own births! I'm working on the comfort level. In the meantime, I'm thankful that I have people to make it happen.

Even if they are very little people. And a little grumpy. :)

A merry little Christmas

2012-12-28T11:46:00.000-08:00

We had a nice Christmas at our house. No one was sick, most events went as planned, and the children felt like it was a special day. We're now in toy and sugar detox mode. I'm trying to keep the 3 year old from dumping his new blocks out on the living room floor. He doesn't play with them; he just feels the need to dump them out every single time they get cleaned up. The novelty will wear off eventually, right??

Leading up to the big day, we had a lot of events. There were school plays, various Santa events, and parties.

My daughter loved being part of the Nutcracker production put on by her ballet school.

She grinned ear to ear the whole weekend, even though the production meant some very long days and some very late nights. She wanted to go early each time just so she could hang out and soak up the excitement. I don't think she understands the concept of stage fright.

On Christmas Eve, we had barbecue hamburgers at the request of my 6 year old.

There was a break between rain storms, so the little guy got his wish.

The calm before the storm....

I made the kids wait to go downstairs in the morning until I was up and ready to go. Poor, tormented souls!

"But Mom, we can SEE the PRESENTS! Can we go now? Can we go now?"

"...Aaaaand, go!"

This one said "Awesome!" and "Totally!" (or, rather, "totawy") in what I call his scary monster voice after he opened each gift. I think he was trying to say "totally awesome," but he doesn't quite understand how to correctly use the phrase. Here's a little video example that I like to call "Fire truck! Awesome!"

While we're looking at videos, here's another short clip of the baby interacting with his little robot.

I love how his fingers and toes can't help but wiggle in his excitement!

My 3 year old loves necklaces because they're little chains that are just his size. He wraps them around his blocks and makes truck noises as he repositions the lumber.

I love his instinct to hold things up at arms length to fully appreciate them. I wonder why we do that.

The big present at the end of the treasure hunt was tickets to Six Flags. I don't think the kids even remember this, they haven't mentioned it since! Too many other things to be excited about. That, and the break in the rain didn't last long. We had a very wet Christmas.

Now it's time to think about taking down the decorations and reclaiming the house. As I was putting this post together, the boys took all the toys downstairs and dumped them on the living room floor again. Apparently the novelty hasn't worn off just yet!!

Deck the halls with boughs of cypress

2012-12-22T10:26:00.000-08:00

Well, we're almost there, Christmas is just around the corner!

Wishing you and yours a very merry Christmas!

As usual, I ended up not being able to do half of what I had planned over the course of the last four weeks. I have a decorative tabletop tree project, two actually, that I've been planning on doing for 2 years now. I think those projects will have to wait until next year.

We did manage to trim the two cypress trees in our front yard when we hung the outside lights. I used the boughs for decoration in the house.

I like the cypress branches, they're very drape-y. And pokey. Ouch.

Also, they're very flammable. Roman candles, as my firefighter calls them. The oils in the cypress trees are so flammable, in fact, that we've made plans to run out with the chain saw and cut them down if a brush fire ever makes it to our house.

I've been hesitant to use the fireplace. I'm sure the house will be okay once we do, in spite of the branches. They're up out of the way. But what if a loose twig fell on the hearth, and then an ember from the fireplace flew out and landed on the fallen bough? (I excel in over-worrying about worst-case scenarios.)

Actually, the main reason why we haven't used the fireplace since I put the cypress in there is because my wood pile is incredibly soggy and mossy right now. Another project — bringing up the wood before the rains hit — that didn't happen.

It will be less busy next year, right? (You can stop laughing now.)

How my first responder processes traumatic experiences

2012-12-16T06:15:00.002-08:00

How do our police, EMS, and fire personnel process the tragedies that they witness from time to time? How can they see such horrors and then drive away, go to the store to pick up supplies for dinner and go about their day? How do these events affect them?

The answer is going to be different for each person.

I can't give you the full range of reactions and processing techniques among first responders. But I can tell you how my husband deals with these heart-breaking events.

My husband seems to be custom-built for a job such as this. He has seen his fair share of sad, gruesome events in his relatively short career. But somehow, it doesn't weigh him down.

I'm different than he is. I'm a worrier by nature, and sad things seep deep into my sinews and tighten my limbs, making me feel immobilized. I have to slowly stretch out the worries and work on regaining my full range of emotion over time. I can't watch depressing movies; they make me feel too sad. Then I'll spend the rest of the evening wishing my overactive imagination would JUST FREAKING STOP coming up with worst-case scenarios for my own family.

But my husband doesn't have this problem. He can process traumatic events quickly. He has the ability to somehow not dwell on it and not internalize it. Here's how he does it.

Let me preface this by mentioning that the man doesn't remember his dreams. I think this is a tremendous gift. My dreams make the impossible worst-case scenarios possible, then those dreams force me to live through terrible events for a night. My husband doesn't have that problem.

As for how he deals with the trauma as it is happening, he separates the calls into two categories — situations he can do something to fix, and situations where there's nothing he can do and the person has already gone.

If someone is already gone and there's nothing he can do, he leans on his faith and takes comfort in knowing that the deceased has passed through a doorway and continues to exist on the other side. It's not emotional for him, since he doesn't know the person and therefore isn't going to miss them. He's just a visitor who happens to be there when the transition to the next phase happens.

For people he CAN help, he has the ability to separate himself from the situation and approach it in an analytical "this is what needs to happen next" manner. He's not focusing on the emotional impact of the trauma on the victim or the family; he's focusing on being a good medic and fixing the situation for them.

My husband takes comfort in knowing that he literally has done all that anyone could in the situation. He is there to help. He helps, and then he moves on to the next puzzle. In some ways, this endless line of trauma of various intensities helps him become analytical since it's so frequent.

I think it helps that he's only one small piece of the story, too; he doesn't stay with the patients in the hospital. My husband's interaction with a patient is 40 minutes, at most.

What does get to him and haunts him more than anything else are the rare cases where he perhaps should have done something different. In those cases, he learns from his mistakes and tries to move on.

The rest of us learn about these events through the news. Maybe we know more information about the people involved — the motives, the relatives, the story behind the events — than the first responders do, at least, initially. Maybe that's why we can't fathom being in those situations. Maybe our emotional ties to the deceased form in a different way. I'm not sure. But whatever the reason behind it, I am thankful that there are people in the world that CAN deal with these situations, remain level-headed, and do what needs to be done — especially in situations that would stretch the limits of even the most seasoned first responder's ability to cope.

In the end, I hope that my husband can easily return to the station, do his shopping, and joke around the dinner table to help ease the tension at the end of a tragic day. I hope he is a little less sensitive to the sadness than I would be. I am glad he has his coping mechanisms already in place, just in case a terribly difficult day comes along, so that processing the grief is second nature to him. On most days, that's exactly what he does. But if all of those defenses fail, I'm glad he has family and friends and counseling to support him, should he need it.

Pomegranate Kiwi Ice Cream

2012-12-12T12:40:00.001-08:00

My grandparents, as the story goes (or as I remember the story going, at least), used to meet up with their friends to make ice cream. Each of them would bring an ingredient and they would add them together on hot summer days. I seem to remember this being done on a tennis court, but that part is pretty shady as far as memories of passed-down stories go. See, this is how false information seeps into legends. But it's my legend, so I get to decide what I remember. And I remember the making of the ice cream being on a tennis court!!

So, after years of legendary ice cream making on the tennis court, my grandma passed on this tradition down to me. She used a pan of ice frozen just for the occasion and then had us sit on her front step and shatter it with an ice pick. The cold shards would go into the oversized ice cream machine with the rock salt and we would wait impatiently until it solidified.

These days, I use an iceless, saltless electric machine. I don't think that my ice cream making will leave nearly as strong of an impression on the minds of small children as hers did. I just can't compete with ice picks and flying shards.

Here is her base vanilla recipe, the stuff of legend, with a pomegranate twist.

(Photo by Keith Williamson)

Yeild: 1 1/2 quarts

Ingredients:
3 cups whole milk
1/2 can evaporated milk (6 oz)
1 cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla
1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 pint whipped heavy cream (whip to the soft peak stage).

For the pomegranate sauce:

3 pomegranates
2 kiwis
3 tablespoons sugar

Directions:

Begin preparing the pomegranate sauce by seeding the pomegranates. I didn't take any photos of the process, so you'll have to settle for some quick drawings by yours truly.

Seeding can be done by cutting the poms in half, and then scoring the skin at about 1 inch intervals, allowing the skin to fan open a bit but still hold together. Take half of a pomegranate and hold it over a big mixing bowl that has a couple of inches of cold water in it. Whack the back of the pomegranate with a large ladle or spoon and let the seeds fall out into the water.

A word of caution, this is a messy project and that pomegranate juice splatters very red! Many of the seeds will pop out this way, but there are always some strays that I have to dig out with my fingers. The good seeds will sink to the bottom of the water. The unwanted bits of skin and seed and membrane will float to the top and can be skimmed off. When finished, drain the seeds.

Prepare the kiwis by cutting them in half, then use a spoon to scoop out the flesh from the skin.

Add the pomegranate seeds and the skinned kiwis to a blender and pulse until well blended. This separates off the juicy part of the seed.

Thoroughly press and scrape the fruit mixture through a strainer into a sauce pan. Add 3 tablespoons of sugar, more or less, depending on how tart you want it. Gently boil the juices, until the mixture is reduced by about a third and starts to thicken. Watch it carefully to make sure it doesn't burn. Place the sauce in the fridge to cool it down a bit while preparing the rest of the ice cream.

For the ice cream base, stir together the whole milk, evaporated milk, sugar, vanilla, and salt. Stir in the cooled-down pomegranate sauce. When your ice cream maker is ready to go, fill your container about half way. Leave some room for the ice cream to expand during freezing, and for the whipped cream.

Mix until the ice cream is at the loose slush stage. Add the whipped cream (in proportion to the amount of ice cream mixture you poured into your machine — for mine, I do half at a time), then continue to let the machine run its course. Then wait impatiently while it solidifies in the freezer.

I'm on a baby weight loss diet (I know — during the holidays — what was I thinking?) So, I cherish my occasional pomegranate ice cream indulgence. I add a spoonful to my sugar free hot chocolate. It makes me feel fat, and happy.

Oh the rains came down, and the floods came up...

2012-11-30T10:27:00.002-08:00

Monsoonal downpour: check.

High winds and downed huge tree in the neighborhood: check.

A ton of leaves getting blasted off those trees from the high winds: check.

All of those leaves clogging the storm drain right in front of the house, holding back the rushing water and creating a lake in my front yard: check.

Husband at work: check.

One drowned rat of a woman raking out the storm drain and trying to keep the flood at bay: check!

After clearing the drain:

The water receded away from the house. Phew!

I raked out those drains in the rain last night, too. I can only imagine how bad it would have been if we were away!! My husband is on his way home, so he gets to go out and clean that drain next time while I soak in a hot bath. And sip hot chocolate. And then take a nap. It's been a long shift!!

Holiday Happenings

2012-11-28T18:39:00.001-08:00

You know how it's October, and then all of a sudden you find yourself hurtling down a steep holiday hill, with event after unstoppable event flying past in quick succession?

Wheeee! Here we go!

This last week we had Thanksgiving at the station,

my husband REALLY cleaned the garage,

I started the nursery project for this little man —

who is currently still sleeping next to my side of the bed in his little bassinet.

(That was a serious purple in there from the previous owners. These pictures don't do it justice. My daughter's room looks neutral in comparison!)

We went Christmas tree hunting,

and decorated the tree. It's not easy finding yellow Christmas decorations. Yellow is the color that Christmas forgot. Poor under-represented yellow. I salute you.

Up next week: finish the nursery, try to get some Christmas shopping in before it's too late to have it delivered, clean the house, have house guests, do the Christmas cards, shampoo the carpet stairs, and enjoy as many holiday events as I can cram into my schedule. Plus Nutcracker rehearsals. And my husband will be gone for the majority of the week, so no help there. Oh, and I need to create the bulletin board for the church nursery. Plus the whole being a parent to four children thing.

Once it stops raining (it's been raining all day and is supposed to keep rain for the next 5 days), I want to do some decorating outside. I want to make a big bow to put over the door. So yeah — more projects. Doesn't hibernation seem like a legitimate alternative about now?

Just think, it's not even December yet!!

Hard to believe, amidst all of this winter stuff, that the days start getting longer again in only three weeks.

Winter in California

2012-11-20T14:19:00.001-08:00

Winter in this part of California is like fall and spring combined. Leaves get tired, turn vibrant colors, and fall.

The bright red leaves land in grasses that are going through a reverse transition. The grasses start out dry and brown, burned by the hot and dry summer. In winter, the rain brings the grass and the moss back to life and the ground grows more fresh and green and alive as the months pass.

We don't get snow usually; the clouds are a blanket that keeps the air from turning too cold for that. But we do get frost and freezing temperatures on nights when the clouds go away.

The lake, starting to rise again and attracting migrating birds, makes that chilled air damp. It seeps into everything.

The sprinklers get a break, but the lawn mower still needs to be pulled out. I have become a bit desensitized to the smell of freshly cut grass. I remember how much I loved that scent after a long winter. Now it's like a perfume that you no longer notice on yourself because you've been wearing it all day.

Our "Holiday Dummies," as my husband calls them:

The sun seems to take longer than normal to slice through the horizon at this time of year. I don't know if the angle of the setting sun technically makes evening last longer, or if the cold air carries the light differently, or if I just notice it more because sunset now happens before dinner, at a quiet time of the day.

Whatever the reason, the atmosphere spends a long time in shades of purple and pink in the late afternoon.

Here's a picture of the road leading down to our little valley that I took the other day.

Winter here is, in a word, gloaming.

Happy election day! Here's a CUTE clip of the baby to help ease tensions.

2012-11-06T13:37:00.000-08:00

My baby is at the loveable stage where he entertains himself with the new sounds he discovers. :)

Have a happy day, all!