So.
What a week, huh?
Yesterday was ... weird. It just sort of felt like an extended weekend.
Except for the fact that I was cancelling all non-essential appointments over the next two weeks. And bars and restaurants and movie theaters were closing at 8pm. And it was hard to stay away from the news and ever changing situation. And we were all hunkering down to spend the next couple weeks home.
We had a family meeting yesterday to talk about what the next couple weeks might look like. I think David was sort of hoping for video games, all day, every day, indefinitely.
Mike asked his students to think about their normal school schedules and the benefits the day and those classes bring to them. For example, changing classes is movement once an hour. He tasked them with trying to find ways to replicate those benefits while home. We asked David and Kate to do the same - what is the physical, emotional, mental benefit of art? math? And how can we replicate that at home?
I am ridiculously Type A. (But, oddly pretty laid/lazy back about it. It's weird. I know.) So, I tend to like things a specific way. And even more specifically, my way. (It really is the best). But, this is so different than what anyone has experienced. So, I'm trying hard to be fluid.
I'm not sure what today will bring.
I'm working on convincing myself that that's okay.
And, have to keep reminding myself that it's Tuesday.
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
Wednesday, January 1, 2020
Cause the world keeps spinning
I dreamt last night that my car was stolen.
I had woken at 6 and refused to get out of bed. It was dark and cold and I was comfortable and warm. And, so, so irritated that I would wake at 6, without an alarm. My body and mind used to the routine of early mornings whether or not I had stayed up until midnight the night before.
So, I closed my eyes and refused to allow my mind to wander toward wakefulness. And, somewhere in those moments, in between, I dreamt of a party. A jumbled mixed of bodies and people coming in and out focus, people I knew and people I didn't. The image switching between loud and quiet as I navigated rooms in a home until I found the front door and stepped out on to a dark street in search of my car.
I knew immediately, as you often do in dreams, that it was stolen. But, still needed to search and found myself wandering in one direction until I realized I was going in the wrong way. So, I turned around and tried the other direction, but felt lost even though the home I had just left had stayed constantly in my view.
I kept looking for someone to help me. But, the street stayed quiet and dark.
It was one of those dreams where you wake up you can still *feel* it. I have no idea what shoes I was wearing, but could feel the pavement of the road under my feet. I have no idea what season it was, but could feel my breath in the cold night air.
It was a weird dream, even for me.
The google and internets, in their vast wealth of infinite knowledge, tell me that dreams of cars being stolen might signify that I feel lost or directionless.
And, honestly, it's sort of a perfect metaphor.
The last few years have been ... weird. I have at times felt lost. And, directionless.
I've been mom for so long, that it's hard to remember beyond that. To the person I was before them.
The kids still need me, of course. But, it's different now. They still need me to drive them here or there. And, neither are comfortable cooking beyond the microwave on their own. But, it's not that all consuming need anymore.
And, so I often feel like I'm in a bit of limbo, ready to move to the next phase and desperately hanging on to the one that we're in.
So, in the early morning of January 1, I dreamt of losing my car. I dreamt of feeling lost. I dreamt of wandering.
And, now that I'm awake, I'm wondering what direction to go.
I had woken at 6 and refused to get out of bed. It was dark and cold and I was comfortable and warm. And, so, so irritated that I would wake at 6, without an alarm. My body and mind used to the routine of early mornings whether or not I had stayed up until midnight the night before.
So, I closed my eyes and refused to allow my mind to wander toward wakefulness. And, somewhere in those moments, in between, I dreamt of a party. A jumbled mixed of bodies and people coming in and out focus, people I knew and people I didn't. The image switching between loud and quiet as I navigated rooms in a home until I found the front door and stepped out on to a dark street in search of my car.
I knew immediately, as you often do in dreams, that it was stolen. But, still needed to search and found myself wandering in one direction until I realized I was going in the wrong way. So, I turned around and tried the other direction, but felt lost even though the home I had just left had stayed constantly in my view.
I kept looking for someone to help me. But, the street stayed quiet and dark.
It was one of those dreams where you wake up you can still *feel* it. I have no idea what shoes I was wearing, but could feel the pavement of the road under my feet. I have no idea what season it was, but could feel my breath in the cold night air.
It was a weird dream, even for me.
The google and internets, in their vast wealth of infinite knowledge, tell me that dreams of cars being stolen might signify that I feel lost or directionless.
And, honestly, it's sort of a perfect metaphor.
The last few years have been ... weird. I have at times felt lost. And, directionless.
I've been mom for so long, that it's hard to remember beyond that. To the person I was before them.
The kids still need me, of course. But, it's different now. They still need me to drive them here or there. And, neither are comfortable cooking beyond the microwave on their own. But, it's not that all consuming need anymore.
And, so I often feel like I'm in a bit of limbo, ready to move to the next phase and desperately hanging on to the one that we're in.
So, in the early morning of January 1, I dreamt of losing my car. I dreamt of feeling lost. I dreamt of wandering.
And, now that I'm awake, I'm wondering what direction to go.
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I've spent some time over the past couple weeks reading through old blog posts. The lazy days with David and Kate spent coloring and reading and exploring and helping to develop them into the humans, on the cusp of something more, that they are today. I miss those times. Of course, I do. The snuggles and sweet voices, the love and care that poured from every inch of me into them.
And, I miss it. Of course, I do.
But, I also love where they are now. Those human people they are becoming - curious and kind, struggling and striving and learning, on the cusp of something more. And, while I am still a part of that, it's not quite the same as when I wrote years ago about our long days together before school and sports and friends.
And, of course, I miss it.
But, when I read those old posts, I hear a different voice. Someone confident, someone sure - a mother, a wife, struggling and striving and learning. I hear it. I hear her, the strength and determination. And, I know that it's me, but somehow she became lost in the shuffle, on the cusp of something more.
The kids left for school hours ago and I'm sitting on the couch, still in my pajamas. There are dishes and laundry and things to be done. But, I don't feel like doing them. I hear that too. The laziness and boredom, the uncertainty of not knowing where I start and end when I'm not making lunches or driving someone somewhere.
I've been sick this winter. It seems both an inadequate and overly dramatic phrase to explain it that way. It was more then the flu, that turned into a respiratory infection, that turned into something, well, more. I now know what it's like to wait for results of an MRI after hearing the words brain and lesion uttered in the same sentence. But, I also know the relief that comes when your doctor reads you a report over the phone that states that there were no acute abnormalities detected. And, I also know that not everyone has that same relief.
Best guess? I am having a non-specific immune response to a viral infection that targeted my central nervous system. Some days, it just feels like doctor speak for "we have no fucking clue."
Sigh. I will not bore you with a post that waxes poetic about some new found lease on life. I get that I'm #blessed.
But, there were moments when illness and doubt and frustration and exhaustion threatened to sink me in tears I just couldn't stop. I hear that voice too. I hear her, the sadness and hope. And, know that she's me too.
I don't like grilled cheese sandwiches. Or that whiny brat, Caillou. I despise girly pre-teen chapter books about fairies and caring for dogs. I love listening and singing along to Abbey Road with Kate. And, when David starts humming "everything is going to be all right" from the back seat of the car. I love the bakery counter at Leo's. And when Mike asks "what should our adventure be today."
I can hear it. All of it. All of me. The wife and the mother, struggling and striving and learning. But, more too. The woman who is that wife and mother, friend and sister and daughter. I hear her. I hear her. I hear me, the confidence and the hope, the sadness and strength, just waiting in the midst of something more.
And, I miss it. Of course, I do.
But, I also love where they are now. Those human people they are becoming - curious and kind, struggling and striving and learning, on the cusp of something more. And, while I am still a part of that, it's not quite the same as when I wrote years ago about our long days together before school and sports and friends.
And, of course, I miss it.
But, when I read those old posts, I hear a different voice. Someone confident, someone sure - a mother, a wife, struggling and striving and learning. I hear it. I hear her, the strength and determination. And, I know that it's me, but somehow she became lost in the shuffle, on the cusp of something more.
The kids left for school hours ago and I'm sitting on the couch, still in my pajamas. There are dishes and laundry and things to be done. But, I don't feel like doing them. I hear that too. The laziness and boredom, the uncertainty of not knowing where I start and end when I'm not making lunches or driving someone somewhere.
I've been sick this winter. It seems both an inadequate and overly dramatic phrase to explain it that way. It was more then the flu, that turned into a respiratory infection, that turned into something, well, more. I now know what it's like to wait for results of an MRI after hearing the words brain and lesion uttered in the same sentence. But, I also know the relief that comes when your doctor reads you a report over the phone that states that there were no acute abnormalities detected. And, I also know that not everyone has that same relief.
Best guess? I am having a non-specific immune response to a viral infection that targeted my central nervous system. Some days, it just feels like doctor speak for "we have no fucking clue."
Sigh. I will not bore you with a post that waxes poetic about some new found lease on life. I get that I'm #blessed.
But, there were moments when illness and doubt and frustration and exhaustion threatened to sink me in tears I just couldn't stop. I hear that voice too. I hear her, the sadness and hope. And, know that she's me too.
I don't like grilled cheese sandwiches. Or that whiny brat, Caillou. I despise girly pre-teen chapter books about fairies and caring for dogs. I love listening and singing along to Abbey Road with Kate. And, when David starts humming "everything is going to be all right" from the back seat of the car. I love the bakery counter at Leo's. And when Mike asks "what should our adventure be today."
I can hear it. All of it. All of me. The wife and the mother, struggling and striving and learning. But, more too. The woman who is that wife and mother, friend and sister and daughter. I hear her. I hear her. I hear me, the confidence and the hope, the sadness and strength, just waiting in the midst of something more.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
a tale of two apples
the innocent apples hung quietly from the tree,
behaving themselves, like all good apples should be.
In an epic fail on my part this morning, David's snack ended up all over the floor. We were rushing out the door to get to school and trying to figure out a quick alternative. We decided on chips. Which, of course, lead to complaints by Kate who always has to bring innocent apples.
I'm not entirely sure what innocent apples are either, but we put our heads together and agreed on the first part of the poem.
The rest, not so much.
David wants a farmer to come along to try to chop down the tree with an axe. The apples would not sit quietly against the dying of the tree, but would fight and attack the farmer, seeking their revenge. There was a lot of blood and guts in his version, of the farmer and the apples.
Kate was thinking that the apples would absolutely love to be made into a delicious apple pie, enjoyed by everyone. With ice cream. And maybe some whip cream.
It's funny how something as innocent as apples can turn into an epic battle against a farmer or something as delicious as apple pie, depending on who you ask.
behaving themselves, like all good apples should be.
In an epic fail on my part this morning, David's snack ended up all over the floor. We were rushing out the door to get to school and trying to figure out a quick alternative. We decided on chips. Which, of course, lead to complaints by Kate who always has to bring innocent apples.
I'm not entirely sure what innocent apples are either, but we put our heads together and agreed on the first part of the poem.
The rest, not so much.
David wants a farmer to come along to try to chop down the tree with an axe. The apples would not sit quietly against the dying of the tree, but would fight and attack the farmer, seeking their revenge. There was a lot of blood and guts in his version, of the farmer and the apples.
Kate was thinking that the apples would absolutely love to be made into a delicious apple pie, enjoyed by everyone. With ice cream. And maybe some whip cream.
It's funny how something as innocent as apples can turn into an epic battle against a farmer or something as delicious as apple pie, depending on who you ask.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
The one where I stress eat swedish fish.
Like, I literally dug through my Wegmans bag as I was walking to my car to get at the Swedish Fish. (Which actually aren't Swedish fish anymore, just red fish. Still delicious though.)
The other day was Kate's birthday. And, it wasn't perfect.
It was a day, like so many others in our household, filled with chaos and frustration and laughter and missing gloves and pants that don't fit and trips to the nurses office and plans that don't go quite as I expect.
Just once, I want to be *that* mom who seemingly has it all together. Who never forgets important things like the right kind of milk for her daughters lunch box on her birthday, who knows exactly where the candles are for the cake, and isn't shopping last minute for presents.
But, it's just not me. And, probably never will be.
So, we will have to settle for less than perfect.
And, that's okay.
As long as there are Swedish fish.
The other day was Kate's birthday. And, it wasn't perfect.
It was a day, like so many others in our household, filled with chaos and frustration and laughter and missing gloves and pants that don't fit and trips to the nurses office and plans that don't go quite as I expect.
Just once, I want to be *that* mom who seemingly has it all together. Who never forgets important things like the right kind of milk for her daughters lunch box on her birthday, who knows exactly where the candles are for the cake, and isn't shopping last minute for presents.
But, it's just not me. And, probably never will be.
So, we will have to settle for less than perfect.
And, that's okay.
As long as there are Swedish fish.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Prologue
It feels weird to be home today, nothing to do and no where to go.
When we left summer vacation was just starting, and now, here we are at home with the summer before us and it all sort of seems weird. Nothing to do and no where to go.
Planning for the trip started about 10 weeks ago - hotel reservations, where we would stop, the routes we would take. But, the idea for the trip had been something Mike and I had been talking about for some time. The timing never right though, or the kids not old enough.
My mom rented a house for a week in Rockaway Beach, OR. The original plan had been to fly in to Portland and stay the week on the beach. But, then we had thought, it would be nice to see my brother and sister-in-laws new house in Seattle. And, the redwoods. And (since we were so close) San Francisco. When one of us said, "Well, why don't we just drive." And the idea took root. And started to grow.
Twelve years ago Mike and I and our friend Tom took a similar trip cross country to go to the High Sierra Music festival in Quincy, CA. Mike and I got engaged on that trip, somewhere in the middle of Wyoming. It had been such an amazing trip, watching out the window as the land and features of our country ebbed and flowed and changed. It had felt like magic.
Over the past 3 weeks, we traveled around 6500 miles through 16 states. It was an amazing trip. I am glad to be home, but, if we could get back in the car and do it all again, I would.
I had meant to blog during the trip, but we were always so exhausted by the time we ended our days. If I had been to write before the trip, I would have described the anticipation, the excitement. Twelve years ago, life quite literally changed as a result of the trip. Mike and I married, had two children. I don't know if any change will come of this trip. But, now that we are home, that same feeling is there. My world is bigger, my eyes open, my heart full.
When we left summer vacation was just starting, and now, here we are at home with the summer before us and it all sort of seems weird. Nothing to do and no where to go.
Planning for the trip started about 10 weeks ago - hotel reservations, where we would stop, the routes we would take. But, the idea for the trip had been something Mike and I had been talking about for some time. The timing never right though, or the kids not old enough.
My mom rented a house for a week in Rockaway Beach, OR. The original plan had been to fly in to Portland and stay the week on the beach. But, then we had thought, it would be nice to see my brother and sister-in-laws new house in Seattle. And, the redwoods. And (since we were so close) San Francisco. When one of us said, "Well, why don't we just drive." And the idea took root. And started to grow.
Twelve years ago Mike and I and our friend Tom took a similar trip cross country to go to the High Sierra Music festival in Quincy, CA. Mike and I got engaged on that trip, somewhere in the middle of Wyoming. It had been such an amazing trip, watching out the window as the land and features of our country ebbed and flowed and changed. It had felt like magic.
Over the past 3 weeks, we traveled around 6500 miles through 16 states. It was an amazing trip. I am glad to be home, but, if we could get back in the car and do it all again, I would.
I had meant to blog during the trip, but we were always so exhausted by the time we ended our days. If I had been to write before the trip, I would have described the anticipation, the excitement. Twelve years ago, life quite literally changed as a result of the trip. Mike and I married, had two children. I don't know if any change will come of this trip. But, now that we are home, that same feeling is there. My world is bigger, my eyes open, my heart full.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Reminders
The mornings are usually pretty hectic, no matter how organized or prepared I think I am.
Lunches need to made, library books gathered, plans for after school made.
Because of this, I trust the kids to get dressed themselves in the mornings.
Kate's outfits are usually .... unique. I usually don't argue too much about it. Except for the day she wanted to wear three skirts and her orange fish-net stockings. Or the one day she wanted to wear shorts over jeans. Today is all peace signs. It even sort of matches.
David is the easy one. A reminder about changing his underwear is needed, but otherwise it's pants (or shorts as soon as the weather hits 65) and a t-shirt.
I think that's why I was so surprised this morning.
The bus came a couple minutes early and the kids were getting ready to board. I turned to say goodbye, but instead, this came out:
Me: David, what are you wearing!
David: blank stare
Me: You're pants are dirty!
No, not dirty. Filthy. Gross. Disgusting. Covered in grass and mud and leaves and food and who knows what else.
Me: Want to go in and change. I can drive you ...
David: They're clean. They're fine.
And he got on the bus.
I'm resisting the urge to bring him a clean pair to school.
Reminders for tomorrow: No fish net tights. Only one skirt. Clean underwear. Clean pants.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Lunches need to made, library books gathered, plans for after school made.
Because of this, I trust the kids to get dressed themselves in the mornings.
Kate's outfits are usually .... unique. I usually don't argue too much about it. Except for the day she wanted to wear three skirts and her orange fish-net stockings. Or the one day she wanted to wear shorts over jeans. Today is all peace signs. It even sort of matches.
David is the easy one. A reminder about changing his underwear is needed, but otherwise it's pants (or shorts as soon as the weather hits 65) and a t-shirt.
I think that's why I was so surprised this morning.
The bus came a couple minutes early and the kids were getting ready to board. I turned to say goodbye, but instead, this came out:
Me: David, what are you wearing!
David: blank stare
Me: You're pants are dirty!
No, not dirty. Filthy. Gross. Disgusting. Covered in grass and mud and leaves and food and who knows what else.
Me: Want to go in and change. I can drive you ...
David: They're clean. They're fine.
And he got on the bus.
I'm resisting the urge to bring him a clean pair to school.
Reminders for tomorrow: No fish net tights. Only one skirt. Clean underwear. Clean pants.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Happy Halloween
Witches and ghosts and goblins, oh my!
Flew through the night of a Halloween sky
Looking for children of just the right size
to bake, boil, saute and fry
So children be warned of the pieces you eat
of that delicious chocolate you get
when you say "trick or treat"
by: jen mitchell
Flew through the night of a Halloween sky
Looking for children of just the right size
to bake, boil, saute and fry
So children be warned of the pieces you eat
of that delicious chocolate you get
when you say "trick or treat"
by: jen mitchell
Monday, March 11, 2013
Kate-isms
Kate: Mom, have you ever been to California?
Me: Yes.
Kate: I bet every one there eats cotton candy all the time. I think maybe even for breakfast. It's magical there.
Kate: Even without a bad guy, weddings can be difficult.
Kate: Do fish get married?
Me: No.
Kate: Then how do they have babies. Husbands and wives have to kiss for babies to be born, don't you know that? Wait. How do the fish kiss?
Me: Um. Well. So. The girl fish lay eggs, and then the boy fish help them take care of them. They are just fish, they don't do things like people.
Kate: Well, they do they live together in the tank forever and ever. I think that's okay.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Me: Yes.
Kate: I bet every one there eats cotton candy all the time. I think maybe even for breakfast. It's magical there.
Kate: Even without a bad guy, weddings can be difficult.
Kate: Do fish get married?
Me: No.
Kate: Then how do they have babies. Husbands and wives have to kiss for babies to be born, don't you know that? Wait. How do the fish kiss?
Me: Um. Well. So. The girl fish lay eggs, and then the boy fish help them take care of them. They are just fish, they don't do things like people.
Kate: Well, they do they live together in the tank forever and ever. I think that's okay.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
When I rule the world
David has decided that he is going to be the President of the United States when he grows up.
We were discussing his coming Presidency at dinner the other night.
Me: Will you make any new rules when your President?
David: Everyone will have to play video games for an hour and a half everyday.
Me: Have to? Like a law?
David: Yes, playing video games everyday will be law.
Me: What happens if they don't play video games everyday?
David: They'll go to jail. (Cue evil 7 year old laugh)
I would start investing in some video games.
We were discussing his coming Presidency at dinner the other night.
Me: Will you make any new rules when your President?
David: Everyone will have to play video games for an hour and a half everyday.
Me: Have to? Like a law?
David: Yes, playing video games everyday will be law.
Me: What happens if they don't play video games everyday?
David: They'll go to jail. (Cue evil 7 year old laugh)
I would start investing in some video games.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
One of my favorite things
The first half of the year, I was up by 7am, showered and dressed by the time the kids woke up.
The second half:
I'm throwing my coat over my pajamas to wait with David for the bus.
It's nice being a stay at home mom.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
The second half:
I'm throwing my coat over my pajamas to wait with David for the bus.
It's nice being a stay at home mom.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Movie Night
Movie Night Rules:
1. There must be popcorn, soda and juice.
2. Movie picking order: Dad, David, Kate, Mom
3. Absolutely no crying or complaining over the movie choice. Crying gets you sent right to bed and you forfeit your next choice.
4. The movie we watch can not be one we have seen before.
5. Everyone has to be there.
I'm not sure when exactly movie night started, sometime last spring I think.
But, it has become a ritual in our house.
Last night was Kate's night to pick. I thankfully had one bag of popcorn left. It's not a real movie night unless Rule #1 is followed.
Rule #4 came about because we were constantly watching the same movies when it was the kids turns, over and over and over. Kate would choose Caillou Christmas. And, honestly if I had to watch Caillou one more time, I was just going to snap.
It took her about an hour last night to pick. She and I went through Netflix after dinner and watched trailers of anything that sounded good to her. She decided on Tinkerbell and the Great Fairy Rescue.
And that's why Rule #3 came into existence. David immediately announced that he wasn't going to watch. I reminded him of the rule.
"That's fine. You can go right to bed and we'll skip you on your next turn."
David decided to watch the fairy movie.
To be honest, I sort of wanted to go to bed too rather than watch Tinkbell rescue anything. But, my turn is next (Rule #2) and picking the movie is a pretty big deal.
Movie night movies are hit or miss. My last pick was Men in Black. We still talk about what a disaster that was.
Tinkbell and the Great Fairy Rescue was a hit. It was a cute movie. Really. Even Mike laughed.
The best part of movie night, of course, is that we all snuggle up on the couch to watch. And share a big bowl of popcorn. And laugh, and cry, or, on occasion, even shout at the tv.
Together.
Which is why Rule #5 is the most important.
1. There must be popcorn, soda and juice.
2. Movie picking order: Dad, David, Kate, Mom
3. Absolutely no crying or complaining over the movie choice. Crying gets you sent right to bed and you forfeit your next choice.
4. The movie we watch can not be one we have seen before.
5. Everyone has to be there.
I'm not sure when exactly movie night started, sometime last spring I think.
But, it has become a ritual in our house.
Last night was Kate's night to pick. I thankfully had one bag of popcorn left. It's not a real movie night unless Rule #1 is followed.
Rule #4 came about because we were constantly watching the same movies when it was the kids turns, over and over and over. Kate would choose Caillou Christmas. And, honestly if I had to watch Caillou one more time, I was just going to snap.
It took her about an hour last night to pick. She and I went through Netflix after dinner and watched trailers of anything that sounded good to her. She decided on Tinkerbell and the Great Fairy Rescue.
And that's why Rule #3 came into existence. David immediately announced that he wasn't going to watch. I reminded him of the rule.
"That's fine. You can go right to bed and we'll skip you on your next turn."
David decided to watch the fairy movie.
To be honest, I sort of wanted to go to bed too rather than watch Tinkbell rescue anything. But, my turn is next (Rule #2) and picking the movie is a pretty big deal.
Movie night movies are hit or miss. My last pick was Men in Black. We still talk about what a disaster that was.
Tinkbell and the Great Fairy Rescue was a hit. It was a cute movie. Really. Even Mike laughed.
The best part of movie night, of course, is that we all snuggle up on the couch to watch. And share a big bowl of popcorn. And laugh, and cry, or, on occasion, even shout at the tv.
Together.
Which is why Rule #5 is the most important.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
I got 99 posts, but this ain't one
No, this ain't.
This is officially my 100th blog post.
I feel like there should be some fanfare. Or fireworks.
I've been procrastinating this post for some time now. Like, maybe 6 months.
Or so.
I wanted it to be special.
Some sort of brilliant, poetic, witty, funny, charm filled treatise on my life as told through the most amazing, magnificent event in my life.
But, it became a problem.
What event to use? Was it charming enough? Magnificent enough?
Which brings me to:
Blog Post 99.5: The Unassisted Triple Play
For those non-baseball fans, an unassisted triple play is when a defensive player gets all three outs in an inning all by himself. It has happened 15 times in baseball history. It's super rare.
Mike and I were at the last one that happened, August 23, 3009, Phillies vs. Mets.
And, the thing is, I barely remember it.
A friend posted a link to the game, way back in the fall, on Facebook. And I had actually had to think about it. I sort of remember it. I had a conversation with him about it, and he couldn't believe that I couldn't really remember it.
Mike and I had been looking for treats to bring home to the kids, when we heard the crowd. I think the Mets were trying to rally a come back. Mike says we watched it on the televisions in the store, but I just don't really remember. I do sort of remember the hush of the crowd after. (It just had to be against the Phillies)
It just wasn't the best game that I had ever been too.
The best game was the second to last game ever played at Shea. Johan Santana was pitching. The Mets had to win that game, and the next one, and a couple other teams had to lose for the Mets to make it into the playoffs. Our seats were so high up, I would get dizzy every time I stood. But, I was on my feet cheering and jumping up and down every out of those last couple innings. Johan pitched the whole game and the Mets won.
The next day they lost, imploded really.
That game was insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't the last game at Shea. Nothing historically exciting happened. Johan pitched all nine innings, but that happens a couple times usually through out a season.
And, it was awesome.
Mike and I hugged the last out of the ninth inning. We high-fived our neighbors. I remember what the people around us looked like, and the sounds of the crowd, Mike's expression that last out.
In my quest to find the perfect moment, I missed all the others that came in between.
The laughs and the smiles, as well as the tears. The ups and downs that have made up these past 6 months.
Like David's new found love of sharks, and Calvin and Hobbes. Kate's tantrums and need to perform.
These small things, these are the ones I remember.
And will remember.
So, my hundredth post came without fanfare.
Or fireworks.
Or grand, magnificent moments.
But, maybe life, life means a little bit more.
This post is dedicated to my loyal following (seriously, how cool is it that I have a loyal following), especially you Joanie.
This is officially my 100th blog post.
I feel like there should be some fanfare. Or fireworks.
I've been procrastinating this post for some time now. Like, maybe 6 months.
Or so.
I wanted it to be special.
Some sort of brilliant, poetic, witty, funny, charm filled treatise on my life as told through the most amazing, magnificent event in my life.
But, it became a problem.
What event to use? Was it charming enough? Magnificent enough?
Which brings me to:
Blog Post 99.5: The Unassisted Triple Play
For those non-baseball fans, an unassisted triple play is when a defensive player gets all three outs in an inning all by himself. It has happened 15 times in baseball history. It's super rare.
Mike and I were at the last one that happened, August 23, 3009, Phillies vs. Mets.
And, the thing is, I barely remember it.
A friend posted a link to the game, way back in the fall, on Facebook. And I had actually had to think about it. I sort of remember it. I had a conversation with him about it, and he couldn't believe that I couldn't really remember it.
Mike and I had been looking for treats to bring home to the kids, when we heard the crowd. I think the Mets were trying to rally a come back. Mike says we watched it on the televisions in the store, but I just don't really remember. I do sort of remember the hush of the crowd after. (It just had to be against the Phillies)
It just wasn't the best game that I had ever been too.
The best game was the second to last game ever played at Shea. Johan Santana was pitching. The Mets had to win that game, and the next one, and a couple other teams had to lose for the Mets to make it into the playoffs. Our seats were so high up, I would get dizzy every time I stood. But, I was on my feet cheering and jumping up and down every out of those last couple innings. Johan pitched the whole game and the Mets won.
The next day they lost, imploded really.
That game was insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't the last game at Shea. Nothing historically exciting happened. Johan pitched all nine innings, but that happens a couple times usually through out a season.
And, it was awesome.
Mike and I hugged the last out of the ninth inning. We high-fived our neighbors. I remember what the people around us looked like, and the sounds of the crowd, Mike's expression that last out.
In my quest to find the perfect moment, I missed all the others that came in between.
The laughs and the smiles, as well as the tears. The ups and downs that have made up these past 6 months.
Like David's new found love of sharks, and Calvin and Hobbes. Kate's tantrums and need to perform.
These small things, these are the ones I remember.
And will remember.
So, my hundredth post came without fanfare.
Or fireworks.
Or grand, magnificent moments.
But, maybe life, life means a little bit more.
This post is dedicated to my loyal following (seriously, how cool is it that I have a loyal following), especially you Joanie.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Code Orange
David is angry with me this morning. This is how I can tell:
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Divide and Conquer
My children are driving me crazy.
No, that's not right.
My children are driving me fucking crazy.
We've been keeping fairly busy, with soccer and swimming lessons and dance and friends and outings. It's just so hot. It seems to bring out the best in all of us. And Kate wants to be constantly entertained. And David wants to sit in front of the tv. And we are all home, so there's a constant mess that we are tripping over and stepping over.
Yesterday, I had had enough. David and Kate spent all morning fighting and bickering.
Mike decided that he wanted to go to Buffalo to see the Mets farm team play. I did not. So, we divided and conquered. The boys went to the game, the girls stayed home.
Kate and I ordered a pizza, watched So You Think You Can Dance, had our own dance party, watched Tom Jerry. And giggled, lots and lots of giggling.
Kate: Girls night is awesome.
And, it was.
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No, that's not right.
My children are driving me fucking crazy.
We've been keeping fairly busy, with soccer and swimming lessons and dance and friends and outings. It's just so hot. It seems to bring out the best in all of us. And Kate wants to be constantly entertained. And David wants to sit in front of the tv. And we are all home, so there's a constant mess that we are tripping over and stepping over.
Yesterday, I had had enough. David and Kate spent all morning fighting and bickering.
Mike decided that he wanted to go to Buffalo to see the Mets farm team play. I did not. So, we divided and conquered. The boys went to the game, the girls stayed home.
Kate and I ordered a pizza, watched So You Think You Can Dance, had our own dance party, watched Tom Jerry. And giggled, lots and lots of giggling.
Kate: Girls night is awesome.
And, it was.
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Saturday, July 14, 2012
Your songs remind me of swimming
Our summer so far has been a mixture of bangs and whimpers, the unexpected and the monotonous.
The first week was a bit of catch up - filing, cleaning.
That first Saturday, we had planned to go see the movie Brave, starting our summer off with a bang. Kate cried the whole morning, refusing to go. The boys finally decided to go by themselves.
As they were getting ready to go, Kate whispered: Okay, mommy. When they go, we are going to go too and meet them there.
Me: Um, what?
Kate: We are going to surprise the boys at the movie.
Me: Um, what?
We rushed around the house after they left and were able to meet them there.
David: What the?
That was unexpected. And a good surprise.
My brother, sister-in-law and niece were visiting last week from Washington (the state, not the capital). We spent some time with them in Albany with my mother and Long Island with my father. My brother Conor and his girlfriend Meredith joined us on Long Island. There's something so comforting about being around family. It had been the first time we had ALL been together in about 2 years. We swam almost every day. And barbecued. And laughed, harder than I've laughed in a long time.
This week feels like catch up again - cleaning and laundry, some napping and reading, soccer and swimming lessons.
We are all home together this summer, all summer. Some days work, some don't. The trick is finding a good balance between family time and alone time.
And, hopefully figuring that out before August.
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The first week was a bit of catch up - filing, cleaning.
That first Saturday, we had planned to go see the movie Brave, starting our summer off with a bang. Kate cried the whole morning, refusing to go. The boys finally decided to go by themselves.
As they were getting ready to go, Kate whispered: Okay, mommy. When they go, we are going to go too and meet them there.
Me: Um, what?
Kate: We are going to surprise the boys at the movie.
Me: Um, what?
We rushed around the house after they left and were able to meet them there.
David: What the?
That was unexpected. And a good surprise.
My brother, sister-in-law and niece were visiting last week from Washington (the state, not the capital). We spent some time with them in Albany with my mother and Long Island with my father. My brother Conor and his girlfriend Meredith joined us on Long Island. There's something so comforting about being around family. It had been the first time we had ALL been together in about 2 years. We swam almost every day. And barbecued. And laughed, harder than I've laughed in a long time.
This week feels like catch up again - cleaning and laundry, some napping and reading, soccer and swimming lessons.
We are all home together this summer, all summer. Some days work, some don't. The trick is finding a good balance between family time and alone time.
And, hopefully figuring that out before August.
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Sunday, June 24, 2012
Kate-isms
Mike was having the kids pick up the basement. It's a disaster. And the two of us are a bit sick of tripping over all the kids toys.
Kate came up from the basement stomping her feet.
Kate: It's not fair. You're the boss, but daddy's acting like it. Tell him that I don't want to pick up.
Oh, the things Kate will say to get out of cleaning.
I have nightmares about what her teenage years will be like.
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Kate came up from the basement stomping her feet.
Kate: It's not fair. You're the boss, but daddy's acting like it. Tell him that I don't want to pick up.
Oh, the things Kate will say to get out of cleaning.
I have nightmares about what her teenage years will be like.
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Monday, June 11, 2012
Same point, different view
Our house is a cape, which simply means that the kids bedrooms are downstairs, ours is upstairs.
It's nice and not nice. It's nice having some kid free space, but I miss having us all on one floor.
Our first summer in the house, David was just a couple months old. And he would wake up so early in the mornings. We would get him from downstairs and sit him between the two in front of a window at the head of our bed. And he would sit there, content looking up at the trees, while we motivated ourselves to get out of bed.
This morning, David woke up really early. Well, early for me. I told him to get a bit more sleep. He came back about 15 minutes later and climbed into bed with me.
Me: Just 10 more minutes, okay David.
David: okay
He was laying and looking up through the window at the trees. It reminded me of that first summer.
I don't know that a picture would ever really do it justice. The quiet of the moment, the light reflecting off his eyes, the branches of the trees creating a shadow across his face.
But, it's those moments as a parent that you can always recall.
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It's nice and not nice. It's nice having some kid free space, but I miss having us all on one floor.
Our first summer in the house, David was just a couple months old. And he would wake up so early in the mornings. We would get him from downstairs and sit him between the two in front of a window at the head of our bed. And he would sit there, content looking up at the trees, while we motivated ourselves to get out of bed.
This morning, David woke up really early. Well, early for me. I told him to get a bit more sleep. He came back about 15 minutes later and climbed into bed with me.
Me: Just 10 more minutes, okay David.
David: okay
He was laying and looking up through the window at the trees. It reminded me of that first summer.
I don't know that a picture would ever really do it justice. The quiet of the moment, the light reflecting off his eyes, the branches of the trees creating a shadow across his face.
But, it's those moments as a parent that you can always recall.
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Saturday, June 9, 2012
This door is always open
"Logic will get you from A to Z; Imagination will get you every where else." - Albert Einstein
I'm not sure if you know this or not. And, I fear I may be warning some of you too late.
To think of the danger (danger!) lurking in the most unexpected, surprising of places!
There are sharks that inhabit the river that separates the children's room from the rest of the library.
Now, thankfully, there is a bridge and stepping stones to help one cross. I have seen many an adult though forgo these safe routes and venture across the river.
Kate and I were at the library the other day and came to the crossing in question.
Kate: Mom! Wait! The sharks!
Me: Should I take the bridge?
Kate: No, I brought my magic wand. When I do this (waves wand around) it will make our shoes magic and we can walk across the water without the sharks getting us.
Me: I'm a little nervous. Are you sure I won't sink into the water?
Kate: Watch. (waves her wand and steps out onto the water). See?
Me: Thanks Kate.
And I was able to cross without incident.
And we were able to pick out some books from the children's room.
On the way out of the children's room we encountered a bit of trouble.
Kate: Oh-oh.
Me: What's up?
Kate: I lost my wand. I thought I put it here (pats her skirt). But it's not there. Maybe it fell out.
Me: Oh-oh.
Kate: Did you bring a wand?
Me: I forgot mine.
Kate: We can't cross.
Me: Let's take the bridge.
We took the bridge and sort of had to leap from the end onto the purple and green squares.
Sometimes the sharks know when you forget your wand and wait at the end of the bridge for you to fall in.
I'm glad Kate was with me to help me see the sharks and get me across.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I'm not sure if you know this or not. And, I fear I may be warning some of you too late.
To think of the danger (danger!) lurking in the most unexpected, surprising of places!
There are sharks that inhabit the river that separates the children's room from the rest of the library.
Now, thankfully, there is a bridge and stepping stones to help one cross. I have seen many an adult though forgo these safe routes and venture across the river.
Kate and I were at the library the other day and came to the crossing in question.
Kate: Mom! Wait! The sharks!
Me: Should I take the bridge?
Kate: No, I brought my magic wand. When I do this (waves wand around) it will make our shoes magic and we can walk across the water without the sharks getting us.
Me: I'm a little nervous. Are you sure I won't sink into the water?
Kate: Watch. (waves her wand and steps out onto the water). See?
Me: Thanks Kate.
And I was able to cross without incident.
And we were able to pick out some books from the children's room.
On the way out of the children's room we encountered a bit of trouble.
Kate: Oh-oh.
Me: What's up?
Kate: I lost my wand. I thought I put it here (pats her skirt). But it's not there. Maybe it fell out.
Me: Oh-oh.
Kate: Did you bring a wand?
Me: I forgot mine.
Kate: We can't cross.
Me: Let's take the bridge.
We took the bridge and sort of had to leap from the end onto the purple and green squares.
Sometimes the sharks know when you forget your wand and wait at the end of the bridge for you to fall in.
I'm glad Kate was with me to help me see the sharks and get me across.
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Tuesday, June 5, 2012
How to know you are clean enough
We recently replaced our hot water heater.
I don't think I realized how far gone our hot water heater had been -- until I took a shower. A nice, long, hot wonderful shower.
I usually try to sneak one in before the kids wake up, but I'm not a morning person and my first thought is "coffee", not "uninterrupted shower". So, showers end up being quick so we can get wherever it is we are going.
So, last week, with our glorious new hot water heater, I was probably taking my time a bit. And both children were awake. The door was open, and I could hear their whispers and giggles.
David came in the bathroom first laughing.
And threw cold water on me in the shower.
(editors note: I may have taught them this trick.)
Kate followed soon after and did the same.
Both missed, and I play acted being cold and appalled.
sigh.
That might have been a mistake.
What followed next was a steady barrage of cold water.
I decided I was clean enough.
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I don't think I realized how far gone our hot water heater had been -- until I took a shower. A nice, long, hot wonderful shower.
I usually try to sneak one in before the kids wake up, but I'm not a morning person and my first thought is "coffee", not "uninterrupted shower". So, showers end up being quick so we can get wherever it is we are going.
So, last week, with our glorious new hot water heater, I was probably taking my time a bit. And both children were awake. The door was open, and I could hear their whispers and giggles.
David came in the bathroom first laughing.
And threw cold water on me in the shower.
(editors note: I may have taught them this trick.)
Kate followed soon after and did the same.
Both missed, and I play acted being cold and appalled.
sigh.
That might have been a mistake.
What followed next was a steady barrage of cold water.
I decided I was clean enough.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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