So long for now

I went outside tonight to clear my muddled thoughts; the wind and I had a good talk. I couldn’t think inside, where all my guilt lay – it was smothering me like a thick blanket, musty and stuffy, but the wind blew my thoughts clear and let them reorganize and settle so I could see them laid out before me. I think I should go sit in the wind more often. The trouble with thoughts laid bare is that they are not always pleasant. The truth, or truth as it may seem at midnight, is often NOT pleasant. My thoughts tonight were not pleasant. Not of a disturbing sort, but of a depressing and self-evaluating sort. I suppose I should speak to the wind more often for these night-time evaluations, for I have a fear of a lonely funeral, with an obituary that has not much to say because the list of good qualities and deeds was so short. Nobody lists the depressing things in an obituary. But that’s for much later in my life – in fact, the end of my life, whenever that may be. Tonight my thoughts were on myself, which is another unfortunate place to lay your thoughts – it seems wasteful and selfish to take time to consider yourself, inside and out, when you know that nobody else in the world is really considering you, for they are too busy considering themselves. But since I was the only one awake, I had to do it alone. I came to a few meandering conclusions, which I cannot neatly sum up because they are hardly concrete an only barely put into discernable form. But I’ll try, simply to be cathartic.

The generally summary is that I am not, nor will I ever be, enough. I am not a very good mother; I do love my children, but I am not a very good mother, and those are two very different things. I’m not saying they would be better with anyone else because I think that is untrue. They both love me so unfailingly, in spite of my countless faults; a sweet, naïve love that does not count the number of fish stick lunches and short-tempered flare-ups. It's good for us to be together, but it would be better if I were better. I am also a very poor housekeeper, to put it plainly. I love having a home, and I like to see it clean, but I dislike putting forth the effort it requires to keep our house looking the way I really love it to look. I don’t mind doing one cleaning project at a time, but the overwhelming number of projects and the never-ending cycle makes me put it aside for a few more minutes, during which another project gets added to the list. I don’t wash the frying pan after breakfast and before I know it, it’s time for lunch and now I have TWO frying pans to wash, which makes me even less inclined to roll up my sleeves. Perhaps it is laziness, perhaps it is merely complacency (not that complacency is not a sin, I am intimately acquainted with my sins), but it certainly is an unappealing character trait and even I am disgusted at myself that I can turn my back on a sink full of muddy dishes that is beginning to smell. That is bad when you are disgusted at yourself. The wind understood me, though, and did not complain. My dear, sweet, loving husband also listened before he went to bed, though it was admittedly his complaints that brought me to my knees. On-edge and grumpy from the moment I got home from work, where I thought I was doing my best to support our family without deserting our family, he claimed repeatedly that he was fine… until the moment he discovered an accidentally broken DVD, when he was admittedly no longer just fine. “We” are careless with our things, and blame must be placed, a millstone of guilt hung shamefully around your neck, and the neck must always be mine because I am the only one who is always home. Even on nights when I am at work, I was home the rest of the day so the evening’s difficulties are my own fault.

I try to be a good wife. I explained again to him tonight my theory of my ring – he gave me a stunning 1-carat solitaire when he proposed marriage and I vowed then, to myself, that I would not let down my end of the bargain – I would be a 1-carat wife. I would serve him hot homemade meals in a clean dining room on clean dishes, and he would be seated surrounded by happy children, clean and well-clothed, and next to a happy wife who had done her hair that day. He works so hard at his job to provide me the opportunity to be this person, he puts stock in me because he believes I will put it back in him. But what am I? What do I do? I have just admitted my failings of home and motherhood, which means I must rightfully admit my failings as a wife, though there is nothing in the world I strive so hard to be as a good wife. I do not clean my home because I enjoy cleaning or because it brings me any great personal satisfaction; I clean my home “so that daddy can be happy when he gets home,” I tell our sons. When daddy is unhappy at home it is because, in her heart, mommy knows she is a failure and has not lived up to her personal vow. Daddy says it’s not true, but the implied and accusing “you” instead of “we” when discussing that carelessness speaks for itself. I told him how embarrassed I am, how terribly guilty I feel when he does housework. I blush when he picks up the broom to sweep the kitchen; I feel a knot grow in my ever-expanding belly when he picks up a fallen chair. He says this should not be true because he is not unhappy to help, but then I know this is untrue because he does not help unless he is unhappy. He does not sweep unless the sandy floor is driving him nuts. He does not pick up the chair unless it has lain lonely and neglected for over a week with no justifiable cause. “We (you) are so careless with things,” yet just last week I threw away a new bucket that was full of hardened mortar that he had not rinsed out, ruining the bucket. I tossed out a wooden airplane, a gift for a 12-year old that was purchased for a toddler, yet he was upset when the toddler broke its wing. Even the crusted bucket of mortar bears my seal of guilt, though, for I should have been able to work on the bathroom while he at his never-ending job, or perhaps I should have rinsed it out for him as the least that I could do after he did such an amazing job laying tile during those long evenings after work. But I didn’t, and the mortar hardened, and I am continually careless and wasteful. The jesting phrase “this is why we don’t have nice things!” felt heavy and burdensome tonight, and my laugh was only one of mild hysteria as I sat crying in the night, repeating “I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know!” And really, that’s it – I don’t know. Don’t know why I am still crying, don’t know why I began crying in the first place – Joe was so good to bring down his walls and talk to me, where I know 3 years ago we would have gone to bed in silence and the gloom would have lasted for days. His reward, of course, is a snotty nose and red-rimmed eyes from a woman who should pull herself together and just clean the house and cook the meals and do her hair and dress the kids, but I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know… I don’t know what else to do.

So tonight what I need to do is let go. What can I let go of that doesn’t hurt any of the things that are already suffering at my careless hand? I cannot be more lax on the house or Joe will surely go insane, I can’t be less interested in our children because they are already ones who need my attention MORE, and I can’t backpedal and become a worse wife because that defeats everything. One big thing that I can give up is blogging. I’ve spent so much time typing this out tonight, which was cathartic for me even as it cast a dreary light on me and my marriage, which is actually NOT dreary (but who would believe me after this?), but blogging takes time it is pretty addictive. A seemingly easy way to pass 5 minutes, but 5 minutes turns into 50 and suddenly we’re back to having waffles again for dinner because I didn’t drag myself away from the computer to cook something healthy, and Joe is coming home to a messy house where toys get stepped on and broken. So I am taking a personal-growth hiatus until at least October. If I can grow into the responsible adult I should be, though, where the “to do” list gets shorter rather than longer by the end of the day, I might let myself come back for some quick updates on the boys. No long ravings about myself, I promise. In the meantime, feel free to stop by our house, I will have a much cleaner home to visit and things will be taken care of for once; perhaps I’ll even have to drop the self-deprecating housewife humor if I find I am decent at cleaning. So good night and goodbye.

Good Day, Sunshine

I've really enjoyed the warm summer sun drying our clothes on the line - it certainly saves on our energy bill (especially since our ghetto dryer doesn't turn off by itself, which can be a bummer if I remember that 3 hours or so ago I started it - whoops!), it saves me from having to fold a load of hot laundry, and it saves our poor house from getting any hotter from an accidental 3-hour dry cycle. What's been the best, though, is seeing the little kids clothes on the line - it just melts my heart every time! Even as Eli is sitting under the line tossing damp clothes out of the basket and onto the dirt, driving me nuts, the clothes ON the line still make me smile. I love having the sweet baby girl stuff up, but it's even more fun to see it next to the boys' things, realizing what a full family we're going to have. The baby girl stuff is from a very generous friend, and I'm having SO much fun getting all the clothes ready for her arrival, even though it's months away. Gotta line-dry while we can!

Diagnosed

Patrick got a runny nose on Sunday, which is no big deal... well, should be no big deal, but when he gets sick it seems to go straight to his airways. A puny runny nose ended up giving him some serious wheezing/coughing attacks! So we finally got him an appointment with an asthma specialist and they diagnosed him with asthma - THANK GOODNESS!! We were going to be pretty annoyed if they sent us home without any answers or better ways to deal with his attacks because, quite frankly, taking a nap with the nebulizer on is not my idea of a good day.

His diagnosis doesn't mean much, actually - the nurse gave him an allergy test where they exposed his skin to 32 general allergy triggers like cats, dogs, pollen, etc, and he tested negative for everything except cats. Since he doesn't have allergies it is much less likely that his asthma will be life-long, he'll hopefully outgrow it by about age 6 as his airways get bigger. Until then, though, we're able to use much better medications for asthma that can not only help when he has attacks, but also PREVENT attacks. Next time he has a runny nose, we'll be aaaaaaaaall over those meds, and we are looking forward to a MUCH better, less sick winter than last year. Never thought I'd say it, but yay for an asthma diagnosis!

Funny girl

My friend clued me into a blog aimed directly at me - a blog for Not-Very-Good Housekeepers. Ahhhh, finally I can bask in the humor of someone who GETS IT (or perhaps just that she ADMITS IT) rather than trying to measure up to someone whose blogs read like a laundry list of "ways my life is better and more put-together than yours" (which their lives undoubtedly are, but do I need to know? Is that good for my mental well-being? I think not).

It was especially good timing that my friend clued me in, as I had just read an article about housekeeping from someone who admitted they hated it (ME!) and I recommended it to her. Turns out, it's the same person! The outspoken blogger happens to write articles for Parent's Magazine every now and again, and this was one of those articles. Very good stuff! So check her out, she's very funny, and please recommend other links you enjoy - parenting or otherwise. Just what you like to read to blow off steam. Thanks!

Company's coming!

When I hear that phrase, I like to gear up and really run myself ragged. My mom was good at cleaning the house thoroughly before company came, and I thought she was crazy when I was growing up but now I have inherited that mentality, with my own crazy twist on it that makes NO SENSE. See, she adopted cleaning projects to make things look good. I adopt major projects that are INTENDED to make things look EVEN BETTER, but then invariably my ideas backfire...



Some examples:

1. Living in our tiny 1st apartment I was very excited for my family to visit when Patrick was born - we'd just gotten home from the hospital after my c-section, been there one night, and I was trying to pick up the house and get things ready. I maybe have even put in a load of laundry. This isn't anything extraordinary, except that I'd just had a baby via major abdominal surgery, and I should have been RESTING. An hour before they arrived my c-section site began bleeding, I'd developed a hemotoma and had to go to the ER the minute they walked in the door, then stay in the hospital the entire time they visited. The doctors said it wasn't anything that I did that brought on a hemotoma, they just happen, but still, I SHOULD HAVE JUST RESTED.



2. Still in our first apartment, 3 months later, my family was coming again to visit, and though my house was clean and I'd healed up nicely, I wanted to make EVERYTHING sparkle, including Patrick's bottles and my breast pump (like anyone but me CARES about my BREASTPUMP) so I put them all in a nice big pot to boil and sterilize. Then I walked off and went babysitting for 3 hours, coming home to fire trucks, doors busted open, and an apartment that reeked of scorched plastic and rubber products. I SHOULD HAVE JUST RELAXED.


The most recent example is from this past weekend, when we had ALL our company come at once. We had weeks upon weeks' worth of notice, and we've had our downstairs bathroom in need of repair since the day we moved in, but you know what seemed like a really good idea? Tackling this gargantuan project exactly one week before Joe's parents came to town! DUH! And exactly one week and 1 days before MY family came to town! Everyone knows projects don't go as planned, schedules get pushed back, a weekend projects turns into a month of weekends, but we were pretty sure we could still squeeze it into working order if we really pushed ourselves. So we did! We stayed up until midnight most nights for the entire week. This probably wouldn't be such a big deal, we'd just be extra tired, except that Joe got exposed to strep throat and with a SERIOUS lack of sleep his body and immune system were running on empty, so when he got sick he ended up getting sooooooooo sick. I've never seen him in such bad shape! By the time both our families came to town our house was not only in shambles from an unfinished basement bathroom, but Joe was nowhere to be seen - he was sleeping! He slept probably 14 hours a day for 3 days straight, and when he was awake he was thinking about going back to bed. Strep hit the day we were going to grout the tile, so since we couldn't grout we couldn't move the washer and dryer from their prominent positions in the family room, so you could hardly squeeze into the guest room, and the downstairs bathroom was DEFINITELY unusable since, without grout, we couldn't even replace the toilet. Joe's parents got to town first and were planning on staying at his grandma's house for the first few days of their visit, then come stay with us, but thanks to Joe's malady and the wreck of a basement, NOBODY ended up staying at our house... even though everyone was visiting us!

Next time we have company coming I am going to force myself to sit on my hands or read a good book or update my blog so that I don't get all motivated to do something stupid. I think our company would have a much better time in an intact house with intact family members. Our apologies to everyone who visited, but we still had a really great time getting together and showing off our un-grouted bathroom/laundry room. Come again soon, we'll have it completed and you can even access the guest room if you want to stay the night :)

Dino's and big bro's

When Patrick was a baby everything was new and different and SPECIAL, oh so special! I was pretty sure he was the only baby who did what he did when he did it... not that he was advanced or anything, but it was always surprising to me when we'd hang out with similar age-babies and "hey, they can crawl now, too? Well, I suppose that makes sense..." Now that Eli's got 3/4 of a year under his belt I have had many opportunities to see very similar things at very similar ages and, looking back, I realize Patrick may not have been so completely unique after all. As the demotivator reminds us, "You are unique - just like everybody else." I certainly don't DISLIKE it, I think it's wonderful! And helpful! And fun! Knowing what to look forward to next, knowing better to enjoy it while it's here, and then having something to compare it to side-by side. Like these little videos of our boys at 9 months, roaring like dinosaurs. The difference with Eli is that we HAVE dinosaurs to play with and Patrick models how to use them, so the roaring seems less random. It's so nice to have a big brother to show you the ropes :)
Here is Patrick roaring at nothing in particular while we wait for the doctor.

Our house, in the middle of the steet

We really are in the middle of the street, so maybe that song applies to us... I'll have to actually listen to the lyrics next time...

But let's talk about my house. OK, I'll talk, you listen. Our house has done a lot of wonderful things for us - it shelters from the cold, wind, rain, or blazing sun, it keeps us warm in the winter and doesn't give us heat stroke in the summer (it doesn't keep us cool by any means, but that's an upcoming project, you can be sure). It gives our kids a place to play, and a big yard to run around in. It gives us lots of chores, but we try to make those as much like play as we can (I just need a little bit more of Mary Poppin's talent). It gives us space for our gardens, which will be replanted this fall since I missed out planting summer stuff this year. It gives us a safe place to sleep each night. What it's given Joe and I, though, that we are sort of ridiculously grateful for, is PROJECTS.

When we went house hunting, we wanted a home that needed a lot of TLC without needing a masters electrician's or plumber's license. This helped with the initital purchase price of course, but it has also helped us hone our skills and our relationship. We've had tons of fun painting, scraping and retexturing ceilings, relandscaping, knocking down walls, laying tile, and drawing up plans for future projects as we go. I would say that the planning is more fun than the actual work, but that just isn't true - especially with Joe. During projects, especially in tough spots, I keep expecting Joe to give up, lost his cool, and kick a hole in the wall, and so far? Zero holes. Cuss words, YES, but holes? No. In fact, he's actually very friendly during physical labor, which astounds me! So I know that as we approach a project it will mean not only are we getting rid of something ugly, we are replacing it with something beautiful, and in the meantime I get to spend extra time with Joe who will be in a good mood because of all of the above. It's GREAT! So with an obvious break in work this weekend due to visiting relatives, we have been having a great time re-doing our downstairs bathroom and laundry room. The bathrooms in our house didn't make much sense - we only had two, and one was directly connected to the master bedroom, and the other you have to pass through the utility room to get to. The first we remedied a while back, but this downstairs bathroom has (until now) been the ugliest, most dysfunctional room in the house since we moved in. We ripped out all the flooring and made it one cohesive floor, and fresh paint has certainly helped, and while we still have quite a bit left to do, I wanted to get these before/after photos up because we are just so dang proud of our handiwork! And pride is just what homewornership is all about!

Standing in the utility room, looking into the bathroom. The bright blue bath set doesn't help anything, but let's be honest - it didn't really hurt, either. Notice the change in flooring, from really ugly fauc-wood parquet laminate to really ugly faux marble tiles. There was a 1/2" difference in height, too, since they laid the tile on plywood subflooring (which, when we ripped up the tiles, was black with mold and mildew [or mild-eeeeewwwwwwww!]).
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Awesome wood towel bars, and a counter that made it next to impossible to access the toilet tank should you have an issue.
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Awesome paint job
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Awesome un-grouted tiles used as a backsplash... but also set on top of the existing backsplash. Does that make any sense at all? Anyone? The cabinet had also sustained a fair amount of water damage from some plumbing incident that must have happened before we moved in. Yech.
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Same white/gray faux marble tiles. Seemingly good from this side, when you went to the crawl space it was obvious they had to be ripped out completely, wall and all, because the entire peice of drywall was molded through. We didn't want anyone falling into the crawl space mid-shower, should the moldy drywall decide to give out. .
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This is the floor when we had ripped out the tiles and linoleum, and the green is a GOOD thing! It's a moisture barrier for concrete basements to avoid future issues with adhesion due to damp flooring (the reason they laid plywood down the first place, we think). Although necessary, it sure made the basement look (and smell) pretty funky! .
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Joe bought a small tile saw and just went to town, meauring and cutting and laying out, and it turned out SO WELL! I was so proud, when he decides he's going to do something, he just jumps right in and learns as he goes. I didn't get any shots of that part of the process, but here he is grouting them all in. .
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And here is Eli and I sponging excess grout off the shower tiles, which I grouted (sans Eli) .
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The new floor - all one level, all one design, all looking 1,000X better than before! .
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Our new sink base/countertop. It's not a good picture of it, but it's a nice stain on the wood and a solid surface countertop with an awesome seamless square sink. It has yet to be connected, but isn't it a ton better than the other one? Yeah, we thought so, too :) .
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Lastly, our new shower. Joe simply sawed out the walls with the other tile, we re-drywalled with hardi-backer, which DOES NOT MOLD OR GET DAMAGED WITH WATER (why didn't they use that in the first place?) and then laid these great new tiles, complete with accent border and cool embossed accent squares at the top.

Now, as well as having a fantastic new bathroom (hopefully completed this weekend, just in tome for NOBODY to use it since they've all gone home) we have lots of fond memories of working together and making our dreams happen, one ugly room at a time. Ta-da!

Updates on our family

It's been a busy few weeks for our family! First we were gone; we spirited ourselves off to Utah to Bear Lake for some much-needed vacation and time with family. Here are some highlights:

Gorgeous scenery from the balcony....

...of the gorgeous homes we stayed in.

Lots of very yummy, very LARGE meals for our very large crowd.

Way fun times at the beach! Patrick enjoyed time with his cousin Espen and grandpa Gus

The black sand made for some interesting diaper changes after the beach!

Tons of fun swimming (soaking) in the cooled-down hot tub. A lot more comfortable than the lake!

We had an excellent few days, we never ran out of things to do! The boys were loathe to sit still for 5 seconds to take a nice picture. Patrick was most certainly not letting go of his dinosaurs.

We're all definitely looking forward to the reunion next year!

The original plan after the reunion was to send Patrick to my parent's house so he could stay and play with cousins Kalena and William, not to mention his Most Favorite Person "gampa gussanan" (Gustavson, if you didn't know my maiden name), but that fell through when he got a bit homesick, along with a bit of a cough, on the last day. So we held off and laid low at home for 2 weeks. This weekend we had most of my siblings come back into town, though, to celebrate my neice Amelia's 1st birthday - hooray! We had a good time hanging out and eating junk food, but Joe laid a lot lower than usual since he came down with strep throat and has slept more in 4 days than he usually does in 10 (not even joking). Hopefully he gets better soon! The good news is that Patrick got better and instead of being homesick is now sick of being home, so after the party we sent him on his merry way to Grand Junction to stay for a few days, or however long he feels happy. It'll be super weird to be back to one child, and a baby no less! I know Patrick will miss having Eli around, but judging from today Eli is loving getting ALL of my attention. I'll see if we can't have some fun bonding time, just the two of us :)

To age or not to age...

I've had an inner monologue going with myself for a few weeks now, debating whether or not I am old. I know that in the long run I am not, but that doesn't stop the dabate, nor does it stop young people from thinking that I am old - I am, after all, on the downward slope to 30, which I remembering promising myself at the ripe old age of 16 that I would NEVER be. So flying in the face of "fact" have been a few tidbits of my life grappeling to make themselves more important than they probably are, and making me officially old. For instance:

-My lower back hurts, which makes me look like a bit of a fogie when I'm trying to get up off the floor. It's like I twist wrong and am immediately immobalized and have to sit back down. JUST LIKE AN OLD PERSON. And I'm talking OLD, I don't see my parents doing this move! Then again, nor do I see them sit on the floor too often... perhaps this move is only too familiar and they've learned to avoid bringing it on by sitting on the floor. Parents? Comments?

- I have spotted, and Joe has pulled out, white hairs on my head. I knew having children would age me, but this seems a bit agressive if you ask me. You can be sure that my body did not ask me, I would not have given it permission.

- I am sprouting random facial hair. This is embarassing to admit, and it took me a long time to even tell Joe about it (though he broke my heart on our honeymoon by telling me I have a mustache when the sun hits it just right. That didn't make me feel old, though, that made me feel like one of the Tahitian women with mustaches/unibrows that Gauguin painted. It also made me feel like punching him for his brutal honesty). Anyway, there is a chin hair (I moonlight as a witch) that drives me insane because it always grows back, and recently it has started growing in WHITE. See? I'm ooooooolllllllddddd - bllaaaaaaahhhhhh! >-P I think I finally told Joe about it after I'd had Eli; by the time you've had 2 babies with your husband in the room, there's just nothing worth hiding. Nothing you CAN hide. HE'S SEEN IT ALL. There are definitely downfalls to your husband having seen it all - it seems like a silly waste of time to buy (or wear) lingerie, for example. And that's just sad. The bonus is that you don't have to be particularly coy when you have to poop, and you all remember what a hassle that could be when you were dating.

-I am often given to oversharing (have you noticed?). Old people can be like this, I think - when I visit Joe's grandma and ask, "how are you?" she answers, "Oh, honey, I'm just so terribly constipated these days." She then proceeds with the details, like talking about bowel movements is totally normal, when all I wanted was "fine!" Well, overshares like this have become a lot more normal for me! Maybe once you have babies (especially 1st babies) and your world revolves around them, and their world revolves around soiling diapers/carpets/new outfits with various colors and consistencies of fecal matter, it just isn't much of a leap to start talking about your OWN bathroom habits and nuances. At any rate, I can't be wrong about oversharing, I DID just mention my facial hair et cetera... just let me know if I'm wrong that this is an old-person thing.

- My knees hurt after extended periods in any position - standing, sitting Indian-style, or sitting straight-legged. My sad story: I had my feet propped up on the elbow rest of the front seat while I was in the back seat entertaining the boys on the way home from our vacation. Comfortable, non? Except that the next few days I thought someone had Tonya Harding'ed me in the kneecaps, they felt like they'd been broken out the back of my legs! I felt like I hobbled whenever I had to get up out of a chair. It was bad.

- Last, and most obviously (unless the sun's hitting my mustache just right, in which case THAT is the most obvious), our family is growing. I can't be a cute mom with one cute child in the front of one of those adorably small shopping carts they have at craft stores. No, now I am always SHOCKED when I go into a store and the shopping carts only have ONE SEAT. What the crap am I supposed to do with that? Don't you have carts with miniature cars attached to the front? What kind of baby-hating store IS this? I mentally note stores like Sam's Club where you can find a cart to comfortably seat 4 and still manage to get groceries into the basket. And to think I used to shop with a hand basket...

So anyway, that's me, feeling old. Don't worry about commenting that I'm NOT old, it's all give-and-take and it's just feelings. You can't contradict feelings, especially when I feel like my old kneecaps are going to fall off completely if I have to squat down one more time to pick up a kid off the floor.

9 months

Coincidentally, the day of the ultrasound was also the day Eli turned 9 months old. I was a little freaked out when I realised THAT! 9 months is wonderful, he's doing so much and learning so much every day, but let's be honest, he's still very much a baby. Fortunately (at least in my mind) I've still got tiiiiime, right? I'm hoping by 13 months he'll at least be walking. Anyway, I thought I'd add a few pictures, because who doesn't like pictures?

Girls just wanna have fun

Today was my 20-week ultrasound, which was very exciting. I remember thinking when I was 20 weeks along with Patrick, "Whoa, I'm halfway there! I'm so CLOSE!" and now it's more like, "20 weeks? Still got a long way to go. I've got tiiiiiiiime!" So with all that tiiiiiiiiime I guess I'd better be hunting up a new small-person wardrobe because we're having a GIRL!!!

Joe is terrified.