In which we discuss my day, and my temperance

I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why I don't drink more.
Tim and I have limited any alcohol consumption to the weekends (as defined by his work schedule). It seems that weeknights are when the medicinal properties would do the most good, though. Perhaps we should rethink this arrangement.

I'm in a quiet room, with Christmas lights and peaceful music. The various young people are in their respective rooms. I kind of think this will be what Heaven is like. You don't think that we will be surrounded by people and angels and commotion in Heaven, do you? That is exactly the sort of thing that brings on my longings for adult beverages. I wonder if those will be in Heaven? Only without the sin part, I suppose.

My grandfather and I had a long conversation at his hearth this afternoon. The fire was cheerily flickering away as we discussed a variety of topics including the state of health care in America, death, the dangers of expeditions to the North Pole, my Granny, parole board hearings, and the similarities between bureaucrats and icebergs.
We didn't solve a single one of the world's problems, but the problems seemed a great deal less threatening in his company. Grandpa is steady and gentle, wise and strong. His life experience lends him perspective that no one under 90 could possibly know. It's very powerful.

The hours I spent with Grandpa this afternoon were a much needed reprieve from the hullabaloo of the past few days. Weeks? We've been caroming through December with all the balance of a sailor on shore-leave. Allura moved in, Faline moved back home, three of my kids celebrated birthdays, my husband had his birthday too, we've had out-of-town house guests, and a 20-year-bible-study reunion. And we are only three weeks into December. I've gained weight, lost my temper, grown weary, and shrunk our bank account. But, the tree is beautiful, the shopping is done, the kids are safe and the year is drawing to a close.

If I need a drink, it's because I covet the specialness of the exhale that is the first glass of wine. Yet, here I am. Norah Jones is singing softly, and I am blogging. It's maybe better than a chardonnay.

Boo

I think that Halloween is macabre and quite demented.

We were in the grocery store today, and I was watching Tim do all the grocery shopping for the week with his list and his coupons. Love that man. I was admiring all the fresh produce, and also Tim's legs. This time of year is such a celebration of harvest. I'm all for pumpkins and squash and apples, and the like. I'm all for Tim's legs, too, if you want to know the truth.

On the way to the store, there was an add for one of those corn maze things. They were announcing that the local corn maze and haunted outbuildings had people screaming in terror. This was designed to woo the general public into an enthusiastic visit. It was apparently working, as the children in our car were all ready to sign up. How is that a good thing? Is that supposed to make me load up the kiddos in the SUV, and dash on out for a night of fright? If fear is the goal, I can just serve the kids cooked spinach, and make them scrub toilets. I guarantee there will be screams of terror. And my way is cheaper.

Who designed a holiday around death and fear? Have you thought this through? There are skeletons and gravestones and occult activity, punctuated with lots of candy. It's weird, is what it is.

I love costumes. Have you seen my closet? Many of my normal clothes are quite costume-ish. I own a full-length black velvet cape which I wear in public, for goodness sake. I'm pro-costume. Last year, Tim and I were Caesar and Cleopatra for Patti's 40th birthday party. Can't we have a holiday about life and joy and candy, with costumes?

Having faced my share of death and fear, I simply wonder at the cultural hoopla over Halloween. It's so convoluted.

We practice it now, though. I didn't for years. While my boys were little, we developed our own weird traditions. We'd use no electricity on Halloween, and we'd light all the candles. Then, we'd surreptitiously peek out the windows at the neighborhood children. It was fun.
Tim has always taken his kids trick-or-treating, so once we got together, my boys got to go too. Because that's how committed I am to my conviction.

This year, being the mom of 4, it is my responsibility to outfit these kids. Faline is going to be a gypsy. Aaron is the grim reaper (!?), and Michael and Don are going as "Flowseidon" (like Poseidon, only the god of Lacrosse). I am channeling Minnie Mouse this year, because I found the cutest polka dot shirt, short skirt, and really trampy red patent leather stilettos at the thrift store. I was trying to get Tim in suede fringe and denim to let his inner cowboy fly, but he wasn't embracing the "Brokeback Mountain" vibe. He'll come up with some kind of costume, though. You'll see.

Life, joy, candy, and costumes. Let's do Halloween my way this year.

Emanuel, God with us

Some mornings it seems that God peels back the merest corner of the fabric of Heaven to allow the light of His Shekinah to illuminate the mundane details of my life. I catch my breath at the revelation of the landscape in such perspective.
These four children entrusted to me by my Creator, are important in the face of Eternity. My housework becomes Holy, my love for this husband becomes worship. My life is infused anew with Purpose.
It is true every day, though I am not always mindful of it.
How beautiful it is, how powerful, to feel the weight of Providence upon my plans for the day.

We spent our first Christmas together yesterday. As a blended family seeking unity, we gave a great deal of thought to new and old traditions. Our planning bore fruit!

We cautioned the children not to wake us before 7. At 7:03 there were feet on the stairs, and wispers in the livingroom. Tim had never done stockings for his kids before; I had four grotesquely overstuffed stockings laid out before the hearth. The children each scooped up their loot, and came to open them on, (and in), our bed. We lingered with two adults, four children, and lotsa stuff, for the longest time. All of the children were laughing and anticipating presents to come, and Tim and I sat there sipping coffee with hearts full to bursting.
The presents were perfect, the livingroom littered with paper.
Michael got lacrosse stuff, Faline got a camcorder and a bike, Don was on an Xbox 360 theme, and Aaron was thrilled with Legos and Nerf guns.
In the afternoon, we went to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie, which I loved.
By evening, we were all mellowed out, and content to eat leftovers.

Now, I am jonesing to put away all the Christmas clutter, and take down the tree!

Halloween

I am a little tardy in posting this, but it's Patsy's fault. She took the great photos and did her magic with them. Then, I had to steal them from her site!


I am too lazy to link. Go to her link in the sidebar for more of her pictures....

Mothering is what I do. And also eating.

Happy Day of the Mom. We celebrated all weekend.

After our daily lacrosse involvement, yesterday, we squeezed in 30 minutes of evening church. It was quite brilliant, really. We went for the singing part, and then we left. We skipped the sermon entirely.

We went to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, where I ate a mere 1/2 of my entree, and still had no room for dessert.
This has nothing to do with having some virtuous lady-like appetite.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I am capable of consuming a mastodon, with a loaf of sourdough, and then going back for seconds.
The simple fact of the matter, is that the meal was enormous.

Today we slept in, since we attended church last night. On account of we are so holy as to make weekly attendance a priority.
Then it was off to Mother's where we celebrated by watching her do all the work. That is what Mothers do. She made a fabulous lunch, where I over-ate again. What diet? I was trying to calculate how many redeeming hours I'll need on the treadmill. The math was too difficult, since all life force was diverted to my digestive processes. But I'll bet it's a lot. Being beautiful is such a burden.

But, we were talking about Mothers Day.

I think that being a mom is really wonderful/heartbreaking/frustrating/hard-work/glorious. That is what I think.
I know gals who want to, and can't;
gals who don't plan on it, but do;
Dads who do it despite gender, simply out of necessity;
and all sorts of other mom-types.
I've seen some that shouldn't be allowed the responsibility,
and others who do it with tremendous finesse.
There's quite a lot of variety in the mom department.

Personally, I love it.

It's rather an underpaid position, though. Which seems a shame.
With adequate compensation, the good moms could afford to be better, and the not-so-good might be motivated to earn a raise, by improving their skills. We could even have benefits. A 401k program, life and health, maybe even dental. Legislate that, Obama. Oh, dear. I shouldn't really be encouraging him, now, should I?

Wow! Who is long-winded tonight?
This is a Mother of a post, eh? Get it? Mother....of a post...? See, I'm funny too. All that goodness, and I don't even charge extra.

Easter

Who is in an absolutely foul temper? Any guesses?
I'll give you a hint.....

It's someone whose garage is normally organizationally challenged, but who happens to have been working on going through everything she owns in the deliberate attempt to eliminate junk,,,,,rendering the garage a more complete disaster than usual. This someone's extremely tidy boyfriend decided that this was the day to examine said garage at length, and in some detail.
Though I prayed that the ground would swallow me, God said "no."

As if that weren't enough, we also spent some time in my back yard. For those of you who haven't seen my back yard,,,,it is also a freaking disaster. May I make an attempt at an excuse? Really, it will make me feel better: Everything yard related costs money and takes time, two resources that are in short supply around here. Also, I have at least one child who loves to build ramshackle forts that look like ghetto housing in a third world country.

And just to top it off, my teenager thought this would be a super fun day to meet a girl up at the store (something he is forbidden to do. Call me crazy, but I think 14 is a little young to be sneaking off to meet girls, anywhere). I caught him on the phone making arrangements, and stopped the clandestine meeting. I am now not only mortified by my yard and garage, I am also apparently the meanest mom in the state of Idaho.

Happy Easter to you, too.

Is it needless to say that I've been going through more crap in my garage for the past three hours? The "garage sale/donation" stack is taking up really a lot of room.

While going through stuff, I came upon a diary. A paper fell out of the diary. I opened it and read. It was written, by yours truly, two days after the death of my sister. That was about the last straw for me. I stood in my messy garage, and cried.

I want a do-over.

If I were endlessly rich, and a fitness model

I'd have a maid
I'd have a personal trainer
I'd have a cook
I'd have a tutor, for the kids
I'd have a chauffeur
I'd have a stylist
a pedicurist
a manicurist
a masseuse
a jet
a Swiss bank account

I'd be fat, bored, and pampered. Wouldn't I be a brat? Mostly, all I want is a clean house, time to hang out with my kids, more hours in the day, and someone to highlight my hair.

I worked out this morning with my skinny little sister, who happens to have a bun in the oven. That's the smallest little bun you ever did see.
I got a week-long free pass to her gym, since I can't afford my own, and we've been working out every day. Whenever I do this, I get to thinking I am really a very firm body builder. I begin imagining myself in sparkly bikinis, and a fake tan. Ms.Universe, or something. You can imagine how disappointing the showering experience becomes under those misconceptions.
I'd like to get a little closer to that fantasy, as swimsuit season is right around the corner. My boyfriend has those kind of muscles that stand out. It's very annoying. He's got the abdominal muscles that you can see, and arms that look permanently flexed. I have to stand next to him, and this is bad for my self esteem. It's alright during the winter, when I'm wearing layers. Summertime dressing is going to clothe me in humility, though, if I don't eat less.
SO, I am applying at the YMCA for a poor person's membership. If they agree that I am indeed poor, and I do in fact need a workout....they just may let me in.

Meanwhile, I am eating protein and doing situps. No Easter chocolate for me.

What are your plans for Easter?
Good Friday to you.

Romance beyond imagining

I had a date last night, the anticipation of which caused no small speculation amongst those who know me. "IS HE GOING TO PROPOSE?" was the ubiquitous response to my announcement of plans for the evening. As if I would know. The second question was always, "What are you going to wear?" Why people speak in all caps when talking about diamonds, but not when speaking of fashion, is a matter for re-evaluation, in my opinion. Both issues can be quite worthy of intensity.
The answer to the first question is obviously information that I am currently in possession of, as, I suppose, is the answer to the second. The answers, in order, are "no" and "black, with heels."
He's a romantic guy, that one. He took me out to a lovely dinner. By "lovely" I mean one where there were no children interrupting our conversation. Then, we went to a quiet upscale location for a cocktail. We sat on overstuffed furniture, and sipped delicious concoctions. Mine was a chocolate martini.
When we got back to his place, we retired to the patio, in sub-freezing temperatures, so that he could enjoy a fine cigar. Cigars are very masculine, I think, and quite sexy. We were joined by three children, two of his and one of mine. It was a beautiful end to the evening, to be surrounded by happy, snuggly children. Eye contact through swirling smoke can be very highly charged, despite (or perhaps because of) the activity of giggling little people.
I love this life we're weaving, out of all the elements of beauty that God has given to us. I love that his children are his heart, and that his heart is willingly expanded to include me and my children. I love that we are as interwoven in dimly-lit romance as we are in the melee of those we love.
I am completely in love.
And completely loved.
Who knew it could be like this?

"Leave your livestock alone"

I'm taking stock of my life, as tradition demands. The findings are predictable, as always. I need to workout, my homeschool needs some consistancy, the house needs to be de-cluttered, and my finances could stand an increase. So, I'll throw a few things away, perhaps I'll touch up my dark roots, and I'll thumb through a fitness magazine. Then, we'll be back to normal by dinner time.

Things changed in my world over the past year, but the changes have been gradual. I am now working part time outside of my home, and that's significant. I began dating my friend, which is also significant.
Mostly, though, I am looking forward. The horizon is rushing nearer, and I am looking at the coming year with a sense of anticipation. In '09, my boys will turn 14 and 13. I will turn 39. There's lots of possibility for us beyond the birthdays, obviously. So few things are certain!

Coffee is certain. I am thankful for that. In fact, I am going to go consume my daily quotient immediately.

Happy New Year.
2009

Meet the Parents

If I loved you at all, I would be posting photos of last night. It was a celebration where I took no pictures. It was a celebration at Mother's home where Tim's parents were subjected to their first meeting of me, as well as a complete induction into my estrogen-laden family of girls. Remember in that movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding, where her crazy family meets his refined family? It was like that. Only Tim's parents were way better sports than the parents in that movie.
Tim's mom is friendly and elegant. His dad is handsome and reserved. They remind me quite a bit of my own grandparents-whom-I-love. I quite like them.

Mother was a gracious hostess, and every surface was covered with beautifully displayed food. My sisters were there with their children and boyfriends, my cousin was there, too.
It was snowing to beat the band.
It was really perfect, as Christmas Eves go.
There were no presents. Only food and wine and family.
Tim and I sat on the loveseat, and carried on a constant banter under our breath. We're getting to where we are able to carry on two conversations at once. We have the pleasant, social, how-do-you-do with everyone in the room. And we have the private-joke-flirtation going on very quietly. It's absolutely the best part of being a couple, in a crowd. I find that the people all around sort of develop our couple-ness in a way that just hanging with the kids, or one another, doesn't.

Presents this morning were slim, as I mentioned before. But the kids were very happy.
This Christmas is a good one. There is snow on the ground, and a great deal of love in this house. We have such a sense of the promised "Future and a Hope" that God gives to His own in Jeremiah. Yet, I see that we are deeply content with today, also.

This afternoon, we are off to Tim's for Christmas dinner. I am very much looking forward to spending time with his parents in a more quiet environment. I want to get to know them. What a perfect day.

Happy Christmas, friends. May God richly bless you.

Under this tree

There are gifts under our tree, now; a fact that has caused no small hullabaloo in my house. The boys were not expecting anything, to be honest. Money is more than tight just now, and luxuries have been off the menu. They've spent several sweet conversations telling me that it's no big deal, and that Christmas isn't about gifts, anyway. Have I mentioned that they are 12 and 13? These two boys 'get it' way more than most.
So, I got paid on Friday. I had to pay some bills, but I splurged a little, too. A very little. And there are a few small things under the tree. It's nothing that they really wanted, but it's stuff to unwrap. You should have seen them dance around and hug me, when they saw that there was colorfully wrapped loot under those branches.
I am so thankful for the attitude these two have displayed. They are so easily pleased. So grateful with so little. So generous. The very best thing about flying below the poverty line, is what it's done for my kids.
There is no attitude of entitlement in this house.
There is no demanding or pouting.
They each have spent their own money on me, and on one another.
There is so much love from these two, and so much joy.
I am blessed this Christmas.

Bah, Humbug

Hi
I sqeezed into my jeans today. I noticed that the meal yesterday may have done some damage. It was so good, anyway.
Now the real holiday season is underway, which means that snow should be around the corner, and I will begin stressing full-time. I can't buy you a present this year. K? I didn't get you one last year, either. This year I am committed to spend only cash. No Credit at all. I've never done Christmas that way before.
I wrote out a list of those who absolutely must have a gift for Christmas, and a list of all the December birthdays. Then, I estimated a reasonable budget. It was $700.00. So, I cut it in half, then looked at my projected income. I wonder what the kids would do if I really, really didn't give them anything? Do you think they could grow up well-balanced and normal?
I could give Tim a kiss, each of the kids a hug, I'll promise to kick the dog less, and we should be good to go. Merry Christmas.

Thanks

Many years ago, our forefathers celebrated God's Provision to them with a meal. Tonight, on the eve of that rememberance meal, I am thinking of all of God's Provision in my own life. God brought those early pilgrims through such hardship. They fought to realize a dream that they believed was set before them by Providence. I am grateful to them, and to Him.
Tomorrow, I expect to dine with people whom I love. There will be a wide assortment of family and friends at the celebration table, and they will each want a piece of Tim's Pumpkin cheesecake. There will not be enough.
I love the United States of America.
I am thankful for the men and women, who braved the sea, and the uncertainty, to found a great nation here.
I am in love with my precious children.
I am in love with my man.
I am awed by my God.
I am humbled by the love of my friends.
I have the most beautiful Big-Fat-Greek-Wedding-Sort of family in the world.
And many of them are gathering at Jenine's tomorrow. You should pray for her.
Also, pray that I get to the cheesecake first.