Being Hopeful Is Never a Mistake

Over the last few weeks I scanned-in, then shredded, thousands of pages of our life, old documents that were taking up space. The guest room is not a place where old memories should go to die, and so I pulled out a giant bin and began re-living moments of pain, distress, and joy as I watched old bills, prescription leaflets, and holiday cards float across my table. I cried a little, smiled a lot, and more than once clutched a few sheaves against my chest wondering how we moved past some of the hurdles in our past.

I was amazed by how many pages I remembered instantly, where I was, how tired, or happy, or anxious the words made me at the time. When I hauled those bags out to the recycling bin, and there will be more of them, I poured in those pieces of paper and I knew these things:

1. I really didn't need to keep most of that paper in the first place.
2. I now have a digital copy if I ever need it again.
3. My brain has a lot more room in it now that it is not holding on to "Where is that specific paper from 2004?"

More importantly, sifting through all of those documents, medical and educational, family journal pages and scraps of paper, I was able to see how my son has grown. His IEPs have finally taken shape and the words on them really matter; there were milestones and he has met them. There were medical queries and they have been answered.

It is obvious that being hopeful is never a mistake. Before we used the words "presume competence," I can see that we tried, and as we've grown in understanding, we've expanded our thinking, changed our behavior, and developed expectations for ourselves and our family.

We're not done figuring things out, but at least I know there's a little more room to do it now.

*****

It's Autism Acceptance month at Thinking Person's Guide to Autism. This month we're asking our autistic friends and community members What Do You Want? What Do You Need? We'll be featuring their answers all month long, and if you'd like to be a part of it, please email us at thinkingautism at gmail dot com.

If you haven't joined our Facebook community, get in while the gettin's good. We've doubled in size since January 1 of this year!

I Resolve to...

To honor number 7 on my list below, here are a few of my resolutions a full month and a half into the year. I figure I just finished packing away the Christmas decorations, so I am right on schedule.

New Year's Resolutions:

1. Don't hold myself to anything I write below, but at least try to do a few things.
2. Clean out the refrigerator once a week.
3. Use up the amazing selection of cans and jars of things that fill my pantry.
4. Be thankful I have full pantry.
5. Use kinder words when I am frustrated with my daughter.
6. Use kinder words when I am frustrated with myself.
7. Get over myself and just hit "publish."
8. Stop taking everyone's hand-me-down things, unless I actually have a need for the item. 
9. Cull the books. They are multiplying.
10. More water. 
11. Call the fence guy.
12. Kiss more often.
13. Close the laptop sometimes.
14. Throw it away, give it away, or put it away.
15. Work with my son on using a fork.
16. Wear my body confidently, without fear of judgement.
17. Drink more tea.
18. Call my mother before she sends the email asking if I am alive.
19. Get passports for the kids, and make a plan for an adventure.
20. Take more pictures, because so many good things are going to happen and I want to remember it all.

Ya' Been Busy?

from my mom, after almost a week without hearing from me, and no blog posts to read:

hi,

I assume I still have a daughter??? have ya been busy?

Love,

Momma

my response:

Work presentation, finally got my hair cut/highlighted for first time since May, editing TPGA manuscript.  

Lucy lost her backpack (with awesome lunchbox, all of the cool boxes that actually fit inside, a new pleather jacket that she has worn once), several school functions. 

Triennial IEP for Jake, which is a very big deal with a lot of talk about deficits..reestablishes his being able to stay at Wunderskool. Then annual meeting with Regional Center social worker to determine eligibility of respite hours etc.; more talk about deficits.

Sister and boys in town since Thursday.

Jake very agitated for the past week or so, hitting himself, hard, on thigh and face, and not sleeping. Lucy lost another tooth. (I told her the tooth fairy can't come until Monday night.)

Seems like everyone has reflux . Screen door (in the back) has been removed because it broke beyond repair.

Every after school child-care/aide we have, has changed their hours. And now, backed up plumbing-snaked it four times.

That is the last SIX days. I wonder what Monday will hold (aside from calling the plumber at 8am)?

******* 

of course we did do fun things too, which I failed to mention in my email.

in those same six days:

I visited my son's classroom and got to introduce a new aide to how we interact with Jake.

I cleaned up the dining room table (my office) by putting things away or throwing them away rather than stashing the stuff somewhere else.

We went as a family to my daughter's soccer team. (Yes, I am the 'team mom', but I asked someone else to bring the snacks this week! I asked for help!)

We went to an evening fundraiser at Lucy's school and ate cotton candy and looked at cool cars.

I put some finishing touches on an awesome project I'm working on.

We had a prodcutive editorial meeting for TPGA, and we are well on our way to getting the book out.

My husband, sister, and I went out with friends to a new Tepanyaki resturant and practically had our eyebrows singed off at the Benihana-style grill table.

We home-brewed beer on Saturday night so that it will be ready for my sister's birthday.

We took all of our umpteen kids downtown to listen to music and play for free on inflatable jump houses.

and I took a nap.

Love and a Dustpan

I haven't swept the floor all week. Not once. It is unimaginable that my kitchen floor could go six hours without needing to be swept, and it has been nearly five days. I am giddy that my feet are free of crumbs, pebbles and warm black dirt from our backyard. 

Sweeping is one of those things that I do not put into the category of "things that make our family different from other families." "Carries wheelchair in vehicle at all times" and "must have a straw or sippy cup available for my 10 year old" are in that category, but sweeping? How many times each day does a family with a ten year old boy sweep the kitchen floor? At our house the number is nearly uncountable.

Jake has been at camp this week. He's likely living it up right now at a dance or talent show, followed by some happy snuggling into his bunk. He's spent days surrounded by singing and crafts and pool noodles and fun. When he comes home, he'll grubby and covered in sunscreen and his laundry will need to go through both pre-wash and second rinse. And by this time tomorrow, these bare tiles will only be a memory.

Because Jake spills cereal, fruit and crackers. He drops his sippy-cup onto the floor creating little speckles of milk that spray across the hardwood, inviting dirt he has tracked in, to cling and accumulate. He takes at least a pinch of soil out of the kitchen garden planter on the porch, and brings it inside with him every time he enters the back door, and he dribbles pebbles and tan bark from his hands, his shoes and his pockets. He has fine layers of grit on him because he sifts rocks from dirt with the patience and endurance of an archaeologist on the verge of a great find. He gets dirty every day.

So as much as I love the feel of treading across cool ceramic tile, it also reminds me that Jake isn't home. And as much as I know he loves camp, I will be thrilled to kiss the top of his little puppy-in-the-rain smelling head. 

And while the reprieve from sweeping has been lovely, it will be wonderful to have myBoy and his sand-filled shoes home.

My Tiny Babies

They were never small, either one of them. My kids have always been on the long/tall side, and while skinny compared to the rest of the family, they are both strong and healthy. They have grown a lot this year, both emotionally and physically. The big trip gave us a nice grounding moment before the school year shook us by its tail, and this week of Thanksgiving will be another touchstone to remind us of how wonderful it is to be a part of our family.

I've been purging the house. It's eight years overdue. We had a lot of things to begin with, then we had Jake and I think I just never got rid of anything that was still useful ever again. I have too many sheets, towels and pillow cases, hundreds and hundreds of books, more shoes than Imelda. I went through 13 boxes/plastic bins filled with my children's clothing, and more than two bins of their shoes shoes. I sorted them all by size first, then called friends so they could place their orders. One family wanted 2T warm clothes only, and possibly some size 8 shoes. I pulled out the next sizes for my sister's boys, the items that Princess Lucy won't wear because it looks "too much like boys." (She does love camo though!). Then I went through again quickly and picked out things from each bin that had I had little memory of a kid wearing it, or at least I knew I wasn't emotionally attached. This sounds ridiculous even as I write it. Who gets attached to a cheap Hawaiian shirt or a blue dress with apples all over it?

I can remember something about almost every single item in those 16 crates. I can remember that Jake wore the beige sweater with the little red zipper on the Golden Gate bridge. I took a picture of him, and I was so scared his little ataxic body was going to lunge and leap over the four foot barrier and land in front of a car or worse, go over the side of the bridge. The stripey sweater he wore in Montana, the last time we went vacationing with those close family friends before our marriages went in different directions. Jake got caught on the barbed-wire fence at the edge of the property. I made a new land speed record that day rushing over sage and dirt to get to him. By the time I screeched to a halt, he had slipped out of the sweater, calmly pulling his body down and out, leaving a striped scarecrow on the fence.

Lucy came home from the hospital in the pink onsie with snaps up the front, and monkeys printed on it. And the little blue and white dress with the duck embroidered on the front? Cheezy I know, but she  wore it on her first visit to feed some ducks at a nearby park. The multi-color sweater with the hood? I bought that the day the ultrasound revealed that Lucy was a girl (and then with the worst kind of buyer's remorse, I worried that I had somehow overstepped a boundary and had invited misfortune into our lives, jinxing everything.)

I remember buttoning and zipping and folding and maybe even ironing so many of those tiny clothes...but only as I look at them again. I think this is how my brain works: an event occurs, a good thing, a bad thing, any thing, and I remember the event for a very short amount of time. But apparently I really do remember it because it gets stored in a long-term memory section of my brain, only to be released again when I see the sweater, the street sign, the wedding invitation, the pen, the shoes. I use objects as external hard drives. If I don't see the object, I'm afraid all those memories will be gone.  Now I know I sound like a crazy person.

There's another thing happening as I clean out all of these things. I get closer to the corner of the closet with the baby crib.

Baby. Crib.

It is beautiful. Jake stayed in it until he was too tall and I was afraid he would tip over the rails, and Lucy jumped out the day before her first birthday, prompting a hasty trip to IKEA. We packed up the crib and put it in Jake's closet.

Every time I open Jake's closet door I have a flood of memories looking at those beautiful wood slats; Jake finally pulling to a stand in his sunny bedroom with yellow walls, when we thought he never would, and Lucy jumping up and down yelling MAMAMAMAMAMAMA to get out of bed. I remember Descartes and I putting that crib together, and arranging the room before Jake was born.

Now getting rid of that crib would hardly remove all of the beautiful memories I have of my children as tiny babies but there is something keeping me from passing it on to the next family. At least I thought there was; I thought that our family was not complete without another child.

This whole time, I've had this crib in the closet, thinking that we would change our minds and have another baby. Getting pregnant with Lucy was a big decision after Jake, and though we thought we would have three or four children, I've realized (after some long discussions) that I am not really missing having another person in our family, and I cannot actually imagine where or how another child would fit, into my heart, or our home, or our schedule. I just don't have a hollow any more, and I know I used to feel that ache, as if we were not complete--but my heart is full now. And we are whole, and happy and as hard as it feels some days, we are on track. 

***

What I am wanting, what I confused with wanting another child, is that idea of fresh and new, and possibility. It's that whole hope thing again...and while we're at it, I want that fearless part of me back. The woman who was carrying a perfect child and made sure we bought a house near the best elementary school. The woman who read Thoreau, and C.S. Lewis to put that beautiful boy to sleep at night. The woman I was before I broke my leg on the front stairs and had to ask for help, really, really ask for help for the first time in my life. I am trying to get some more pieces of that woman back, and somehow I mixed that up with having another baby, because while I do like myself now, I really did like the woman I was then too--she was awesome, and she knew it.

Summertime and the Living is...

easy? hard? scattered.

Things are scattered. I think I have more time, but there are more children around, but Lucy has been at camp in the mornings, and at a play date nearly every afternoon, so really there are less, but Jake requires constant monitoring, so I am sort of trapped in the kitchen dining area of my house, or the back yard, so I can't get anything done. Oh, and I feel guilty for not playing with him or taking him any exciting places.

Everything seems to be breaking around here, so I've been running around buying parts, or taking things apart and looking at online schematics, and trying to figure out whether it is better to buy new or fix the old. I was able to fix the washing machine, which made me feel pretty awesome and also pretty annoyed that I spent more than $200 paying someone to fix the exact same problem when it broke last September. The dishwasher is no longer making that terrible noise after I took the entire thing apart and cleaned every tiny part of every tiny part. When someone says "They don't make 'em like they used to." I will now nod my head in absolute agreement.

I have a lot of goals for myself this summer, but I just can't seem to finish anything. Which leads me to one of my first goals of course... I need to let some things go, including giving myself a hard time about everything.

Here are some other things I am going to let go of this summer:

• other emotional baggage
• old cookbooks
• ratty t-shirts, even if I think I should "keep them for painting"
• baby toys, unless Jake really, really likes them
• towels we have taken, almost always by accident, from Super8, the gym, and various hospitals. They are thin and nasty and never ever get soft.
• paperwork that does not matter. Seriously, do I need all of those old phone bills? WTF?
• clothing that does not look good on me
• shoes that do not fit
• beauty products that are past their expiration 
• luggage that is beyond repair
• cracked laundry baskets
• pens that don't work
• mugs I do not like

and that is just the beginning, but I am trying to make small goals and meet them rather than say "I will clean everything out of my house." That makes me feel defeated when I can't get it done.

I need our house and our life to make more sense than it does now. If it is this hard for me to accomplish great things here, I can't imagine how much harder it must be for Jake who has difficulty processing. He works so much better in an orderly environment, and I have more patience for sitting and teaching when our life isn't strewn about my field of vision. Lucy will benefit too, she is trying to figure out how to prioritize things in her world, and learning habits which will follow her for a long time.  If I can teach her now how to have a place for things, how to make order out of chaos, she will go farther and do more in life than I have.

Jake goes to summer school right after the 4th of July holiday, and Lucy has at least two more weeks of camp, so I will have some quiet sorting time when they are off being crazy kids, but it isn't too much longer until we need to prep for our cross-country trip. I have already begun the lists for that.

and by the way, making lists is a great way to avoid doing work. I am an expert.

My Life in a Pencil Box

Eagle Marker. I took this from my dad when I left for college. I found it on the dining room table under a stack of mail that looks so much like the stacks of mail I have now. I never understood how a person could have that much mail, or how you could lose a check made out to you, or how something might get sent in late or not at all. I could not imagine ever having such a complicated and messy life. My empathy has taken so long to develop.
Pink eyeliner pencil I took this from my mother's makeup drawer when I left for college. I'm fairly certain she didn't really use it, as I recall her wearing a smoky blue/black, but I also took a Clinique dry/wet eyeliner set too, just in case. My mother is beautiful and I always hoped I would grow up to be as pretty as she is. When I first tried makeup in 7th grade, the only comment she made was "In a little while you will see that you are wearing way too much makeup and that you're much prettier with much less. Come to me when you want me to teach you how to put makeup on." Three days later I learned how to use a soft sea sponge to put on foundation...
Gap pencil This one is before they even changed the logo, so it must be from 1989 or 1990. I started working there in 1989 and didn't leave for 11 years. I met some of the most wonderful people and learned a lot about business, management, communications and how to make friends and influence people.. no seriously, I did.
U.C. Berkeley ballpoint I bought this pen when I went to ASUC for the first time as a student (that's pronounced AY SUCK for those of you who didn't go to Cal). I then went and bought a gazillion dollar Shakespeare anthology and realized I would not be able to afford another pen until 1994 at the earliest. I still have that anthology. The first flowers Descartes ever gave me are pressed in that book. We were just friends when he gave me those flowers, it was more than a year after that when we started dating, and they are the only flowers I have ever pressed in my life.
Montblanc (totally fake) I bought this for myself around Christmas my freshman year of college when I was a) feeling sorry for myself and feeling dramatic. or b) having a moment where I just knew that if I had the right pen I would be the best poet/storyteller/novelist on the planet. Probably a little bit of both. I have a small blue-papered journal somewhere that "goes with" this pen. I carried them both in a leather mail bag that weighed 20 pounds empty. I carried these items everywhere, and pulled them out to furtively scribble poems and essays while on BART, all over San Francisco, and back in Berkeley at one of my favorite people watching spots, Cafe Milano or Caffee Strada.
Posterman pen from my sorority days. That place was more polarized than the U.S. House of Representatives on Health Care Reform vote day. I was the song chair at one point, and made all sorts of posters with the words of ΚΑΘ songs on them. That pen smells so much that I nearly passed out while making those posters, even in my most beautiful "fishbowl" room (I shared with an older girl who was in an a Capella singing group with me. She had more 'points' so we had an awesome room).
Waterman pen (with my maiden name engraved on it) I worked so hard for this pen. I was in the Internship program at Gap. It was fairly new, like perhaps I was the second or third year that it existed? Basically if you followed all of the rules, learned all your stuff, performed magic tricks and smiled all the time, you would graduate college and become an Associate Manager. As a graduation gift our Regional Manager gave us each a pen with our name on it. I always liked that regional manager, even when others didn't, which is kind of odd considering she was very tough, super exacting and had expectations for us that were above and beyond what was expected for our level. When I graduated I was an Associate Manager for three weeks before I got my own store. It was not a prestigious store, but my District Manager told me flat out, "jennyalice, sometimes you gotta take one for the team." So I did, and I learned a LOT, mostly about myself.
Google pen I stole this one from Descartes. (It seems I am thief when it comes to pens?). It used to have a cool light in it with red, blue, yellow and green (Google logo colors), but it must have burned out some time in the last 10+ years I've had it. Perhaps it was the first piece of Dot.com swag in our house? It reminds me of my Life With Endless Possibility that was before. It helps me remember things like Big Promotions, being newlyweds, and drinking late into the night on the evening Inktomi went public.
CMD pen I briefly worked at CMD after I left Gap. There were some very talented people there, but I never really fit in with the company personality. They are a Portland based company, and it was the height of Dot.com-everything-moves-very-very-quickly. I could never figure out why I was so frustrated until Descartes described Portland once after driving around for six hours waiting for me to finish my once-a-month meeting in the home office. I asked him how his day had gone and he said, "I feel like a tiger in a cage full of bunnies."
Waterman pen Descartes bought me this pen the first year we were married, for my birthday. I was so surprised and happy that he would know exactly what I would want... I also couldn't find my Gap pen at the time...I remember that the blue Waterman box was actually wrapped and had a bow on it. He took it out of his Cabella's mail bag, the green canvas one with the brown leather accents. That was back when his bag was really just his bag, and he wouldn't have dreamed of ever needing to get something out of my purse. We still had parts of us that were completely, completely, separate. It also reminds me that we used to actually buy presents for each other. I mean buy presents for each other that the recipient didn't know about until that person unwrapped the gift. Sadly, as good as my memory is, I cannot remember the last time I received a wrapped gift, and I know I have not wrapped a damn thing for Descartes in years, except perhaps a sandwich in some plastic.

There were other pens and pencils in the ratty zip top bag, including colored pencils which Lucy needed for her art project this morning. Grabbing for those pink and silver wooden sticks, her hands pushed past these little flashes, these pieces, past my very own tranche de vie narrative. I was sort of stopped there in each of those moments, thinking, then listening to the little voice in my head,

"Oh my God, jennyalice. You really need to clean out that desk drawer more often."

Our House.. in the Middle of a Storm

Today:

• Sage had to borrow our house for bathing (hope it's okay that I shared Sage) because her house was not cooperating in the plumbing department... sand bags and a new sump pump probably mean she will not be bringing the kids over later for a bath.
• I made a home made chicken pot pie while the power was still on this morning..as it turns out we never lost power and the chicken pie fell into the category of "Uhm, you don't need to make that again honey."
• Jake went out the dog door during a very, very bad bout of rain (while I was changing my shirt..he's that fast). I had to chase him on the deck and bring his wet self back in. Oddly enough, even though we bathe him every single night he still smelled more like wet dog than our dogs do.
• I changed my shirt again.
  
• Lucy emptied the dog food all over the kitchen floor. Luckily it is dry food that had been placed in freshly washed bowls.. but I still think that CPS would not approve of "Chicken Soup for the Soul Adult Dog Food" as a healthy snack for children (again Jake is very quick).
• Lucy climbed over the side of her crib and came back upstairs refusing to take a nap.
  
• I got a migraine and threw up.
• While I was throwing up Lucy got a ball point pen off of the counter and drew all over part of her face (by accident I think.. she was trying to put the lid on and had the lid in her mouth.. hmm do you think she is copying mommy much?)
• While I was throwing up our larger Golden Retriever Chandler (he came with the name from Retriever Rescue.. and yes it is short for Chandler Bing) decided that he finally would deal with the rain and go outside to pee..only I had closed the gate so no one would escape anywhere while I was yakking...so instead.... oh yes, he did.. he PEED ALL OVER THE KITCHEN FLOOR! Do you have any idea how much liquid a golden retriever bladder can hold? Well it is enough to cover a 10x12 (or so) kitchen and the stairs that lead to the back door.
  
• I began to mop? wipe? hose down? saturate with spic and span? the kitchen floor.
  
• I paused and called Descartes to give him an update on where our family was for the day.
• Descartes came home in remarkable time considering that half of the streets in our town are flooded. He also picked up all of our recycling bins that had floated/been wind-gusted down the street.
  
• Descartes convinced Lucy to take a nap while Jake played quietly in his room so daddy could work and mommy could take a nap.
• I slept for 1 hour and 45 minutes..migraine gone.
• We fed the kids and did bath time..except Jake was in a pissy mood and decided to kick his sister so he went into the shower while Lucy took a bath.
• Jake refused to get out of the shower, and while I was dealing with him Lucy pooped in the tub. Fanfuckingtastic!
• Children eventually went to bed, tub got bleached and beers have been cracked.

Lucy has only hopped out of bed once since she went down an hour ago. Big girl bed will be purchased tomorrow.

Hope you had a nice day.

Without Really Saying Anything

I had an experience today which made me realize (again!) how much I love my husband... the one who does dishes only when asked, doesn't ever wake up when a baby cries, and needs to be reminded to get a haircut...that husband.

I love him because he knows, that even though his first instinct is to mind his own business and stay out of other families' messes, he knows the right thing to do and always, always steps up to the plate to lend a hand to someone in trouble. He puts flares down. He paints before the landlord comes. He moves your stuff, or someone else's at the last minute. He waits until you are safely inside with the door locked. And he shows up with the flares, the paint, the truck or a flashlight.

I love him because, even when it seems like he has no idea what really matters to me, he does. He knows what is important to me and my heart and without complaint or hesitation, jumps in, or out, whichever is necessary.

and i love him because my only real complaints about him are really, for the most part, the most superficial of things.

tonight I am happy to do the dishes.

How to be a Bad Parent Lesson #6347

...let your kids play in dog shit....


You may think that your kids are safely playing on the secured, no-way-out deck watching the street scene from the front of your house. You might think, "Hey. I bet my kids are getting hungry for dinner. I'll just run upstairs and make them something and have it all set when they come up. Wow, I am such a genius."

I thought all of those things. And then, just as I was setting cute little trays onto the counter with home made shredded barbecue chicken, persimmons and raspberries for Jake, and a little perfectly cut chicken salad and cheddar cheese sandwich for Lucy, paired with strawberry yogurt, persimmons and grapes... chocolate milk for the girl, whole white milk for the boy... happy mommy chair between the two to facilitate more consistent eating....just as I was all set. I realized it was too quiet. I had been upstairs for 7 minutes.

There is a reason Jake has protective supervision.

Jake had climbed OVER the baby gate and gone into the side yard. The side yard is a point of contention in my marriage because this is where our TWO golden retrievers relieve themselves. It is also where Descartes very, very, rarely and only with considerable nudging picks up said "relief packages." I clean it up once a month if Descartes doesn't; this is one of "his jobs" in our divided labor household. He has not cleaned it up, and I did it two weeks ago. (It has since been cleaned and sanitized mom...so no comments on that please!)

So there is Lucy hanging on the baby gate pointing at her big brother who is standing squarely between 15 gigantic piles of poo. There is none on him, none on his shoes, none on his hands. He is in the middle of it just standing there.

AGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

This is one of those moments in parenting where I had to **really** think hard as to how to fix this situation. No one was really in danger.. those situations I have down, no problem... but when there are moments like these it is harder for my tired mind.. maybe it's because my adrenaline doesn't kick in. Moments like these.. I need a Double Strength Diet Rockstar.

So I put Lucy upstairs and gated her in and locked the dogs with her then I went around the back of the house and down to the side yard and plucked Jake out of the poo. It was only on his way out of the area, with mommy having startled him, that Jake stepped into a big old stooopid stinky pile of it.

I closed the gate behind us, stripped Jake down and marched him straight into the tub inside the house, shutting the door behind us so Lucy would not think that it was family bath time.

I used the rest of the Hibiclens and a bottle of dial soap. I trimmed Jake's nails and emptied the water a few times.... and there was never any poo on his body at all.. just his shoes.

Then I bleached the tub, and walked out of the bathroom with Jake.. only to find Lucy had fed her dinner to the dogs, and had started to eat Jake's dinner. Lovely.

I have now left my children unattended and let them play in poo and after all of that I still found myself trying to make [more] dinner while the kids are whining and ready to eat "right this very second."

Somehow we managed.

By the time Descartes got home I had both children fed, bathed, jammied and in bed.

Phew

That's All I need Folks

So Lucy went to Nanny Kidwell's house again today and played nearly all day long... happily!
I think it's going to work out. Jake stayed at school all day (though it was a minimum day).. so guess what? I got to complete my errands...like this one:

Went to Barns Ignoble to buy a present for a friend (Squid actually.. her birthday is soon, uhm, now, actually, so go wish her a happy day!) and I went in, read the backs or jackets of several books, read a few more, selected two, went to the counter, waited in line, paid and went back to my car and pulled out of the space,,, and exactly 8 minutes has passed.. What? Seriously? I can do all of that in 8 minutes? Amazing.

When I went back to Nanny's house she asked me if I had taken a nap, "You look so well -rested. What did you do?"

In no particular order, here are the things I completed while I had "alone time" for the first time since August:

• went to the grocery store
• returned my rental car
• picked up my Not-so-mini Van from the shop
  
• went to the library to select books for home-bound patrons
• went to the book store
• folded (at least) two loads of laundry
• put away at least 50 board books scattered across the floor
  
• vacuumed under the cushions of both couches
• vacuumed the entire upstairs of my house
• polished a section of the hardwood floor
• emptied a very full dishwasher
• loaded it again to the max
• curled my hair
• brushed all of my teeth
  
• put on makeup
• changed my clothing
• talked to the gardener
• pulled some weeds
• went to the bathroom by myself
  
• cleaned out the fridge
• got the mail
• took out the trash
  
• paid some bills
• put medicine in the dog's ear
  
• checked my email
• checked every one's blogs
• visited with Sage and Ki
  
• read more submissions for Canisitwithyou.blogspot.com
  
• talked to my sister, my mom and someone from Sears.

I did all of these things from 10:55-2:08.

three hours and thirteen minutes?
That's all I need folks.

Buried in Cotton

Seriously... how do we have so many items of clothing in this house? I am really being buried alive.

The only thing I can think of is that Jake changed sizes three times this last year (at least pant sizes) and Lucy is changing sizes about every three months too.

And I am now smaller than I was when we got married (which just means I was a cow at our wedding!) so I have clothing from size 10-16 plus maternity..oh yeah and I used to work for that giant clothing company that seems to be "falling into a chasm" not a gap (oh how i miss those days of "Oh my gosh you work there? Wow." We were the Google of clothing companies...beware Google!) so I already had a lot of clothing..

And Descartes, well he's the kind of guy who owns his own tux, and fly fishes, and hunts, and bicycles, and gardens, and he has all the gear for each of those parties..not to mention the ones he doesn't do often, but for which he is well-equipped (hey keep your mind out of the gutter!) like tennis, swimming, backpacking, house painting, car repair, rowing, and disco dancing (he has a blue ruffled tux shirt, just in case!)

I have been going through clothes this morning and I am giving Sage many things.. she will have a whole new pile of stuff to go through when she gets home.