Family values

On countless occasions I have told myself how fortunate I am that on the two and a half days a week that I work my parents are able to watch my children. I have the comfort of knowing that Phillip and Bella are being well cared for in a loving environment by people who are teaching them good values. Recently something happened that has forced me to re-think that...

Last Tuesday when I went to pick Phillip up he was sitting in my Dad's lap. He raced over to me and gave me a big hug, then stood back and wiggled his fingers at me. "Hey Momma, wanna know what these are for?", he inquired with his trademark mischievous grin and twinkling eyes. Not really sure that I wanted the answer but knowing that it was coming anyway, I replied in the affirmative. "They're for picking boogers!!" he hollered, doubling over and laughing hysterically as the words rolled off his tongue (because, of course, anytime an almost four year old boy gets to say "boogers" he has to laugh hysterically). "Really?", I replied in my best Mommy voice (at least the best Mommy voice I could muster over the laughter that was bubbling in my throat), "who told you that?", to which he responded "Poppa". With raised eyebrows I looked over his head at my Dad who was still sitting in the rocking chair in the corner, his mischievous grin and twinkling eyes a carbon copy of my son's. "Hey!", my Dad protested through his own laughter, "don't go getting me in trouble, that's not what I said."

As it turns out Phillip had noticed that day that my Dad had a particularly long fingernail on one finger. When he asked my Dad about it, my Dad replied "that's my nose-picking finger". This has been a running joke in our family for as long as I can remember, but Phillip thought it was about the funniest thing he ever heard. I guess he figured if one nose picking finger was good, then ten would be even better. For the next several days Phillip ran around wiggling his fingers and asking people if they knew what they were for. I may have to pay a little more attention to just what my parents are teaching these little ones!

Wake-up call

Apparently the staff here at Chez Dogpound has been waking our sweet princess Kylie too early in the morning. The other night after she had gone to bed she ran back downstairs and told me that she had left a note on her bureau for me. I was busy at the time and told her I would get it later. I forgot about it until the next morning at 6:20 when I went in to wake her up to get ready for school. This is the note:

I laughed at the thought of my seven year old daughter leaving a note for a wake up call, like she was a guest in a grand hotel. Then I proceeded to wake her up anyway!

Room mutha'

The call from Mrs. S came the second week of school, asking if I would be the room mother for Kylie's class this year. She explained that she needed someone that she could put in charge of classroom projects who would gather the materials necessary for the projects and coordinate volunteers. Of course I said yes, that really isn't the kind of request that one turns down. I knew at the time it was some sort of twisted cosmic joke, that somewhere in the universe the gods were laughing and saying "watch this". Being room mother requires two of the things that I dislike doing most of all, relying on other people to follow through on things, and calling people I don't know on the phone.

In my role as room mother I have to call the other parents and ask them to supply various items for special projects Mrs. S's students will be doing. So far I have had to request gumdrops, headbands, pipe cleaners, spices, sheets, pumpkins, paper towels, and aluminum foil. Some of the items I have just supplied myself; I figure that way I know they will be there when they are supposed to be. Truthfully that would be my first choice for all of the projects, but it would get pretty expensive! Instead, I dutifully work my way down the list of parents, making sure that I take turns and don't ask the same people for things all the time. From the time Kylie brings home a list from Mrs. S requesting various items for a project until the project is completed I worry. First I worry that I won't be able to find people willing to donate the items or volunteer and either the kids won't be able to do the project or I'll end up having to buy everything and volunteer. Then, once I have succeeded in lining up people to donate/volunteer, I worry about whether or not they will remember to do what they have committed to doing.

I've never been great at group things. In college I absolutely hated group projects, the very idea that my grade depended on the quality of someone else's work and their level of commitment made me sick. While I'm far from perfect, I am extremely conscientious. If I say that I'm going to do something I do it to the best of my ability, come hell or high water. I have noticed in my journey through life that not all people share this ideology. There have been many times that I have been disappointed by people telling me they would return a call, get information to me, or do something for me and then failing to do so. Maybe I'm just a control freak, but I would much prefer to do something myself because then I know that it will get done.

The other part of being room mother that I'm not loving is calling people on the phone to ask for things. Apparently I suffer from some sort of phone anxiety, because I always get nervous about making these calls. Before each call I rehearse what I'm going to say, and as I dial the phone I can feel my cheeks getting flush and my pulse quickening. Part of it is that I don't like asking people I don't know for things, and part of it is that I tend to be shy (although over the years I have gotten pretty good at hiding that!). The most recent round of calls I made resulted in four parents not even returning the message I left for them. Of course I interpret that as meaning they aren't interested in donating/volunteering. so it will be twice as hard for me to hit them up the next time I need something (I'm such a wimp!). Logically I know that it's more likely that they either got the message at a time when they couldn't return the call then forgot about it, or they inadvertently deleted the message, or maybe someone else retrieved the message and they never got it, but there's still that little insecurity there that makes me take it personally.

So far I have coordinated four projects for Mrs. S's class without any disasters. Everyone has sent in what they said they would send and nobody has been mean to me on the phone. I have a spreadsheet all set up that has each student's name and phone number, their parents name, notes on when I have called and with what result, what they have sent in and when, and if they have volunteered. I have the organization part down, I just need to work on increasing my nerve when it comes to calling people and trusting that they will do what they say. All things considered I think this will be a good experience for me. It's outside my comfort zone which is probably someplace I should venture a little more often. My name is Edie, and I'm the room mutha!

Fast and furious Friday

Wow, another busy week at the dogpound! As evidenced by my previous post, last Thursday was Kylie's seventh birthday. We had a little celebration for her that night with cake and gifts but her family party was Friday night. On Saturday two of her friends were coming over to have another little party at our house. I knew Friday was going to be crazy busy, and it lived up to my expectations.

Friday morning started off with Phillip hollering excitedly through the bathroom door just as I stepped out of the shower at 7:02, "Momma, there's a big twuck out fwont and a guy walkin' up the dwiveway!!". There I stood dripping wet, and not quite ready to receive the load of sheetrock that was being dropped off for our addition. We had been told the truck would arrive between 7:00 - 7:30, which I knew meant 7:30 at the earliest because those things are never on time - wrong! I quickly ran a towel over myself and hopped back into my jammies to go meet the truck driver before he hit the doorbell and sent the dogs into a barking frenzy which would wake Bella. Since Rob was still sleeping (we had been up until 1:00 that morning) I went out to move the car so the truck could get in the driveway. After that I ran back into the house to wake Kylie who had to get on the bus in 25 minutes, and Rob who had to be at work in an hour.

From there things were a blur as I rushed around to get Kylie out the door and Bella and Phillip ready to go to my parent's house. It was my first day volunteering in Kylie's class and I was supposed to be at school at 8:10. I left the house a few minutes before 8:00 and raced over to my parent's house, arriving there at 8:07. I hurriedly kissed the kids and hopped back in the van, bending the speed limit just enough to make it to Kylie's school at 8:17 and her classroom at 8:20. I worked with some of the students until 9:30, at which time I raced home to make sure the freezer repair man wasn't waiting for me ("yes, Mrs. R., our man will be there sometime between 9:00 and noon on Friday", "okay kind repair people, I will sit here and watch out the window for him to pull into my driveway as I have nothing else to do with my life"). He wasn't there yet, so I updated the note I had left on the door for him to say I would be home at 10:15 and buzzed back over to my parent's house. I picked up both kids and managed to pull into the driveway at 10:14 - phew!

At that point the rest of the day became a race against the clock. We had twelve family members arriving at 6:00 for Kylie's birthday party and I had lots to do to be ready. I no sooner started making the big pot of chili I was planning for that evening than Bella wanted to nurse. I retired to the couch where she proceeded to snack for about ten minutes before really getting down to business and filling her little tummy. After that I snuggled her down in the pouch where she rested her head comfortably on my chest and watched me prepare the chili.

Once the chili was made and starting to cook it was time to tackle the cake. Kylie insisted she wanted a whoopie pie cake for her birthday, despite my best efforts to convince her that we could get her a really good cake from the baker who makes almost all the cakes for our family parties. I figured one cake wouldn't be enough, so I set out to make two. Just as the first one was coming together nicely the freezer repair man arrived. I showed him to the freezer and returned to the kitchen where I managed to get the first cake made and in the pans just as Bella started to doze off. Phillip was remarkably good through all of this, playing, helping, watching the freezer repair man, watching tv, just a happy little guy.

$84 later the freezer was working, the freezer repair man left, and things were quiet. My chili was bubbling, the first cake was baking, the second cake was taking shape in the mixing bowls, and I felt like I just might be ready by 6:00 (although I still had a little cleaning to do). About that time the doorbell rang, the dogs took off barking, and Bella almost jumped out of the pouch. It was the sheetrock guys who had arrived to begin hanging the sheetrock. They began traipsing through the house in their wet (did I mention it was raining?), dust covered boots and I immediately gave up on the idea of cleaning the floors prior to the party. The dogs were wild, Phillip was wild, and sweet Bella decided that her nap was not yet finished so she went back to sleep. I crept up the stairs and, holding my breath, gently placed her in her cradle where she slept soundly for three hours (go Bella, go Bella!!!).

About twenty minutes after the sheetrock guys arrived the furniture delivery guys arrived, bringing Phillip's new bedroom set and more craziness with them. Unfortunately all of Rob's efforts for the week had been concentrated on hanging the insulation in advance of the sheetrock guys starting, so he hadn't had time to dismantle Phillip's crib which meant there was no place for Phillip's new bed to be set up. I pushed all thoughts of Kylie's potential displeasure out of my mind and told them to just put everything in her room for the time being as there was obviously nowhere in Phillip's tiny room to place any of the items. It was at this time that Foster, one of our golden retrievers, kicked into bratty kid mode. With furniture guys going in and out of Ky's room, and sheetrock guys going in and out of Phillip's room (the access to our addition is a doorway through his existing room, he will get a new bedroom when the addition is done) his kleptomaniac tendencies kicked in and every time I turned around he was sneaking around with a stuffed animal hanging out of his mouth - remind me again why I wanted a dog!! By the time I was able to close the doors to both bedrooms I had a pile of eight slobbery stuffed animals sitting on the counter - ick!

Through the chaos I managed to finish my cakes and get Phillip a bath. Kylie arrived home from school shortly after that and I tossed her in the shower (so nice that she can do that now that she is older!), and when Bella woke up she too was treated to a dip in the tub. I got the bathrooms cleaned and my tables dusted, frosted the cakes and put them in the fridge, and e-mailed Rob a last minute list of things to grab at the store on his way home (early, I suggested, if he knew what was good for him!). He got home in time to vacuum the house behind the recently departed sheetrock guys who promised to be back at 7:00 Saturday morning to finish the job. I whipped up some buffalo chicken dip to cook a little later and headed upstairs to change my clothes and nurse Bella before company arrived.

As is the norm for our family parties everyone brought food so we had plenty to eat. Kylie could barely contain herself and opened her gifts about an hour after everyone arrived. She was thrilled with all the goodies she received (including a set of "Little House on the Prairie" books, which thrilled me too!) and started lobbying for cake shortly after the presents were opened. It turns out one cake was exactly enough to feed everyone, which meant I still had a cake left for Kylie's party with her friends on Saturday (I was going to get up early and make another cake) - yay!! It was a nice party but I was relieved to have it behind us. There was more than one moment during the day that I considered greeting guests in my sweats with half baked cakes and cold chili, but fortunately that didn't happen. Most importantly, Kylie had a wonderful time and enjoyed every minute of her party.

Kylie at seven

Seven candles on her cake,
Birthday wishes she will make.
How have we gone through seven years?
With countless kisses, hugs, and tears.
From baby girl, to dancing queen,
Most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Determined, tenacious, persistent, discerning,
The girl has no patience, but slowly she's learning.
One minute a toddler in head banging rage,
The next a young girl, in the turn of a page.
With constant amazement I watch her mature,
Serenaded by giggles and joy that is pure.
Bushy the lion is still her best friend,
Her affection for him never will end.
A beautiful smile that lights up the place,
Big baby blues that dance in her face.
She is constant motion, she never slows down,
Always dancing, and spinning, and whirling around.
Slow down my sweet girl, you're growing too fast,
A constant reminder that babies don't last.
My first baby to hold, to rock, and to love,
My first precious gift, from heaven above.

Uncle Bus

Nine years ago today my Uncle Buster, one of my favorite people in the whole world, passed away. He died of a heart attack in his sleep; it was sudden and unexpected. Rob and I were living in Illinois at the time. We had no children, we both had demanding jobs working 60+ hours a week making good money, and we both wanted to move back home and start a family, "some day". At that point in time we really didn't have a timetable for our move back home. There was no rush, and aside from missing my family, our life in Illinois was pretty good. Then came the phone call telling me that Uncle Bus had died.

When I got off the phone from my parents I sat on the living room floor in our apartment clutching a box of Kleenex and watching the videotape of our wedding. I was desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of Uncle Bus, to see his handsome face and twinkling eyes one more time, to hear his infectious laugh. I think that's where Robbie found me when he got home. Through choked sobs I told him what had happened, that Uncle Bus was gone.

It was decided that I shouldn't return home for the funeral. My parents worried about me traveling alone being so upset, and we would be home in a little over a month for Thanksgiving, then Christmas after that. Uncle Bus' funeral was on a Friday. I left work early that afternoon. At the time the funeral was to start I was just approaching our apartment. It was a bright, sunny afternoon, and as I turned on to our road the Vince Gill song "Go Rest High On That Mountain" came on the radio. As I leaned forward to turn up the volume on the radio I looked out the windshield up at the sky. Overhead, stretched across the blue sky with it's puffy white clouds, was a beautiful rainbow. Between the song and the rainbow the tears flowed down my face. I believe that was my Uncle's way of saying goodbye.

It took a long time for my heart to heal from losing Uncle Bus. I still get teary when I think of him. I would love for him to know my children and for them to know him, they would adore each other. His death changed my life in many ways. He was only a few years older than my parents, and our return home from Illinois suddenly took on a sense of urgency for me. Losing him set the wheels in motion, it was time to move home and start a family. I wanted to be sure that my parents had the opportunity to know and love my children. One year and one day after Uncle Bus died we closed on our house in Maine. Two years and four days after his death Kylie was born. Losing Uncle Bus made me realize that nothing lasts forever. I would give anything for him to still be with us, but because of his death we made choices that have given us the life we have today. I miss you, Uncle Bus.

Edited a few hours after originally posted to add: I believe that the people we love are still around us spiritually, even after they pass. This morning I told my Uncle Bus it would be nice to see a sign, just to show me that he's around. Tonight while I was in the basement doing a few things I opened the freezer that stopped working almost two weeks ago. I had left some ice packs and a bunch of the "Flavor-Ice" popsicles in there since I didn't have room in the other freezers for them and I figured they would re-freeze easy enough once the freezer was fixed. The repairman isn't supposed to be here until this coming Friday. I had opened the door to the freezer this past Thursday, and found the inside to be room temperature and the ice packs and popsicles completely thawed. Tonight when I opened the freezer it was icy cold inside, and the contents were frozen solid. I can almost hear Uncle Bus saying "Okay little girl, here's your sign...".

Blogger withdrawal

I am suffering from an extreme case of blogger withdrawal. Despite my best efforts I haven't found the time to get here and write in the last week. Things have just been too busy. I feel like one of those poor hamsters that runs endlessly on the little wheel in her cage, running, running, running, but never really getting anywhere. I have no real reason to complain, I know that we are incredibly blessed. I'm healthy, my family is healthy, we have a roof over our heads, food on our table, and we're able to pay the bills. Still, I don't handle long-term insanely busy well (short-term I'm fine, I actually thrive, but after awhile it wears on me).

Rob has been traveling for three out of the last four weeks. Two of his three trips were unexpected and came with little warning. One Tuesday he found out he was leaving first thing Wednesday morning and wouldn't return until Friday night. That same Thursday he found out he would be leaving again Monday morning and not returning until late Friday night (this week). In between he has been spending Saturdays working on the electrical in our addition with our friend the electrician, and any other spare time has been devoted to his Money & Banking and Algebra classes (he's working on his Bachelor's degree).

It's times like these that I realize how dependent our family is on teamwork. One of the reasons Rob and I have such a good, successful marriage is because we make a great team. He will do anything he can to help me out, and I do the same for him. We don't keep track of who does what or whose "turn" it is to do something, we know it all works out. This past Saturday while he was working on the electrical stuff I did his Algebra homework for him (shhhhh...don't tell his professor!). I figure he's going to have to learn it eventually, but this way he didn't have to spend a good part of the day Sunday doing it, leaving him free to go to the playground with me and the kids. I really wanted us to enjoy a little slice of family time before Monday morning rolled around and he left for the week. On Sunday after our visit to the playground I returned home to iron clothes for the week for him and Kylie. While I did that he did the vacuuming so I didn't have to - teamwork.

Having him gone so much these last few weeks just makes things crazy. I miss him and the kids miss him, he takes a little piece of us when he goes. Beyond that it seems like without him at home I'm able to just keep up with things, but forget any extra time to blog, surf the 'net, or just take it easy. From the time my feet hit the floor at 4:30 am until I drag myself to bed at 11:30 pm I run, much like the little hamster in my first paragraph. There was one night last week that looked promising. The kids were all sleeping, I had the next day off of work (which, of course, picks now to be crazy busy as well), and I was anxious to hit my blog. I went downstairs to the freezer to pull out some ice cream for dinner (did I also mention that when Rob is gone I feed the kids but usually either snack or eat nothing myself - it's an unintentional and not entirely healthy weight loss plan) and found a little puddle on the floor under the freezer and food inside the freezer that was just beginning to soften. To make a long story short, instead of making it to my blog that night I spent the next two hours cleaning out our ailing freezer and trying to fit it's contents into the top freezer compartments of our two refrigerators.

Anyway...enough whining. I just wanted to explain my recent absence (and write something!). I'm hoping that with Rob's return tomorrow night (Saturday morning, actually) we will slowly return to our normal pace of busy, and leave this pace of insanely busy behind, for the time being anyway.