Let's talk about my minivan some more

It really has changed my life.

Up until two weeks ago, the typical Tuesday morning went like this:

7:00 Get out of bed, get the girls up for school.
7:05 Poke the girls again.
7:15 Finally haul Kbear bodily out of bed and help her find clothes
7:20 Ask Banana to brush her hair
7:29 Tell Banana that it's time to stop brushing her hair, it looks lovely
7:30 Start looking for shoes and jackets
7:33 Get annoyed with kids for not putting shoes and jackets by the door
7:35 Warm up the car
7:40 Finally get the kids out the door. Take Banana to school.
7:55 Drop Kbear off across town at preschool

(now here's where it gets fun)

8:05 Return home. Poke Skippy and tell him it's time for work.
8:15 Nurse the baby. Have some cereal. Poke Skippy again.
8:30 Sharply pinch Skippy's foot, insisting that it's time to GET UP NOW.
8:45 Get annoyed with Skippy for not knowing where his shoes and keys are.
8:46 Realize the keys are in my pocket. Oops.
9:00 Finally drop Skippy off at work. Run errands.
10:30 Pick up Kbear.
11:00 Pick up Banana.



Ok, got all that? So I had to run one to school, then run the other to school, THEN come home and run Skippy to work. Talk about a pain in the ass huh?

Fast forward to this morning:

We got up.
We got dressed.
I took the girls to school in my spiffy purple minivan.
I went out for coffee with my neighbor while the Chunk slept in.
I came home with just enough time for Skippy to sprint out the door. Then I hung out with the baby until it was time to get the girls.

The End.

Isn't that MUCH better?

Chunky Monkey update

Today was our first full day at home following our hospital stay. All I can say is that I LOVE LOVE LOVE my bed. Good God I love it.

The Chunker had a good day today. He ran a little bit of an on-again-off-again fever but it always came down with Tylenol. He ate a massive lunch (I'll pay for that in tomorrow's diapers) and a good dinner and he felt well enough to play peek a boo with me through the storm door this afternoon so I think he's most definitely on the mend. Hopefully by the weekend he'll be back to his sunny little self.

Skippy comes home on Saturday. I can't wait to see him - usually when he goes away it's not a big deal but this was a rough one. I haven't been able to talk to him much over the last few days because he's been in training but it seems like he is enjoying himself.

The elementary school book fair went off without a hitch tonight. I obviously had to hand off responsibilities (which were thrust on ME without much notice) but the rest of the PTA board handled things beautifully.

I'll be glad to put this week behind me.

There really IS no place like home

So in case you haven't heard, we are back home after two nights in the hospital.

All hell broke loose on Monday night. I was getting the Chunk ready for bed. Chunk hasn't been feeling too great since this past weekend but honestly, it's just kind of going around so we've been riding it out. He felt a little feverish and he was mighty cranky, so I was putting him down for the night when he scared the cookies out of me.

Basically, Colin had a febrile seizure around 8:40 Monday night. One second we were putting on his pajamas and the next, his whole body went rigid and started to shake. In five years I've had three kids and never in my entire life have I been so frightened. I don't know how long it lasted, maybe 30 seconds. But it felt like forever. He couldn't cry. He couldn't breathe....he just shook with his body all tight and his eyes scrunched up. Then all of a sudden, it stopped. The poor baby gasped in a big breath and just absolutely started to howl.

Needless to say, we beat a path to the ER. Skippy is out of town this week so on the way up the hill I dropped off the girls with a Google friend and we were in triage by 9:00. After three hours and several tests, they told me that Chunk had RSV.

RSV is pretty scary stuff. In adults, it manifests as a bad cold. In itty bitty babies it's extremely dangerous. For most kids it's miserable at its best and scary at its worst. There were actually two other babies at the hospital being treated for the exact same thing and of the three, Chunk was by far the best off but that's not saying much. He still needed to have round the clock breathing treatments and 24 hour monitoring. He received extra fluids via IV and spent some time in the oxygen tent to keep his numbers up.

Probably the worst times where the ones when he was getting an IV and having blood drawn - no one likes to see their baby being held down by two big strong male nurses while he screams. The IV was the worst - the first time they stuck him three times before I'd had enough. They did eventually get one in, which was good because RSV can cause major dehydration but it still sucked like no body's business.

But I'm getting off track. Back to Monday night - for a little while in the ER, things kind of went downhill. I realized that the baby would be admitted to the hospital and went into major mommy-panic-mode trying to figure out what to do since Skippy was out of town. Then the help started rolling in. It was going on eleven o'clock at night when my dear friend Katy called and told me to stop worrying, that she and Crystal (who was watching the girls at the time) had everything under control and would coordinate getting them from Crystal's house to Katy's, where they could spend the night.

And that was just the start of an amazing trend. Our friends, neighbors, and co-workers started calling, emailing, instant messaging, and otherwise tracking us down and offering to help. For the last three days, I've only had to leave the hospital twice - once on Tuesday morning to get the girls off to school and once on Tuesday night to shower, grab clean clothes for everyone, and drop off overnight bags for both Banana and Kbear with the friends they were staying with. In between I was able to be with the baby for every chest x-ray, breathing treatment, vitals check, needle stick, and snot suck. He received fluids by IV and spent some time in the oxygen tent but overall he did very well. I can't say I slept well in the hospital recliner, but we managed and they fed me, which is always a bonus.

I have to give credit where it's due. I can't say thank you enough to Crystal, Katy and Aaron, our dear long time family friend Dana, Nicole and Kevin next door, and last but not least, Laura who may find herself with a Kbear on her doorstep since she told me she wanted to stay there FOREVER when I picked her up this morning. You all contributed to keeping our spirits up, but those are the folks who were able to actually step in and help out with the girls, feeding them, hosting them overnight, and in general freeing me up to stay where I belonged, with the Chunk and allowing Skippy to stay down at Google HQ, knowing that we were all in good hands.

When we moved here I left almost my entire family behind. It was very emotional and challenging for me. But this experience has taught me that we have an amazing family here - one that is not related to us by blood but that will pitch in and help out whenever it's needed with a generous spirit that far exceeds anything I could have ever imagined. We are truly in your debt.

While I sit here and type the Chunker is sleeping in his crib. He seems content. I think it's going to be a week of PJ pants, Papa Murphy's pizza, and movies but it's good to be home. Our love to EVERYONE for your prayers!

LOOK WHAT I GOT!

<------------------------------- Isn't it PRETTY?

Yes, I realize it's purple. But it's MINE! And look! Look at how nice and shiny and roomy it is! Look at how the rays of sunshine stream over it, making it look like the gift from heaven that it IS!!!!!

So first things first. No, I will not be changing the name of my blog. I realize that I no longer need to lament the fact that I do not own a vehicle with a capacity for more than four and a half people, but I figure it's good to hang on to the things that remind us of more challenging times. Like having to cram three car seats into the back of a Grand Prix while your ass hangs out the window. Or seeing if you can keep your cool when one assorted child or another kicks the back of your seat for the four thousandth and sixty ninth time. In ten minutes. Or attempting any kind of road trip with more mileage than going to the grocery store.

So my blog name stays. But lo and behold (*cue fanfare*) I HAVE A MINIVAN! ALL HAIL MY MINIVAN!

Here's how that beautiful sanity saving piece of metal came to sit at my curb:

Last Saturday after the dodge ball tournament Banana had a play date across town with one of her little Kindergartner friends. So I tossed her into the Pontiac and we headed off on our way. I dropped her off and on my way back, there it was.....sitting at the curb on 12th street with a nifty little "for sale" sign on it. I eyeballed it while driving by and continued on home. I was hungry. And even my desperate desire for a minivan couldn't trump the needs of my stomach after a full day of dodge ball spectating. Besides, I figured it was out of our price range and our tax refund hadn't come yet and I barely spared it a second thought.

Fast forward to this past Tuesday. I picked Kbear up from pre-school and since she insisted on getting in the car on the side the Chunk's seat is on, I had to coordinate the logistical nightmare that ensued while getting her buckled into her car seat. Poor K is the munchkin stuck in the middle of the Pontiac's backseat. Have you ever been to a movie where the people on both sides of you won't share the armrest? That's been Kbear's life for the last year or so. And let's face it, even adults don't like to share the armrest on the airplane. Four year olds don't like to share ANYTHING.

We finally got her settled and headed back towards our house to pick up Banana at the bus stop. And on the way, that shiny purple minivan popped up in my memory bank. A quick glance at the clock showed me that we had plenty of time to meet the bus, so we took a short detour.

And there it was. This time I pulled to the curb and got out to take a better look. A 2000 Dodge Caravan. A very PURPLE 2000 Dodge Caravan that looked to be in pretty darn good shape. And the price was right. I wrote down the phone number on the sign and after grabbing Banana off the bus, ran home and promptly called for some more info.

That's when I met "old guy." Old guy's name as it turns out, is Chester. Chester is eighty five years old and gets vans from government surplus auctions because they are well maintained, cheap, and easy to resell. He also has a slight tendancy to spit bits of fried chicken at Skippy when he's talking but we didn't know that until later and anyway that's really neither here nor there. Chester told me that it was a great van and had 60,000 miles on it. That's when I started pestering Skippy to come with me to go look at it. I pestered him and pestered him and then I pestered him some more and finally on Friday we left the girls with the neighbor, grabbed the baby, and we made it over to see Chester and take the van out for a quick spin.

Two hours later, it was ours!

So YAY! ALL HAIL MY MINIVAN!

Riddle me this....

So it's Leap Day. I know, super exciting stuff huh?

Here's a riddle for you that is almost a year in the making.

Today the Chunk is 11 months old. If it was NOT a leap year and February had ended on the 28th, would the Chuck still be eleven months old? Would it have happened on February 28 or on March 1st?

So would he have never ever have turned eleven months.....at all?

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh deep thoughts by Amy.

I took some pictures of him today. I'll get them uploaded this weekend. I can't believe we'll be planning a first birthday party in just a few weeks. Time flies. My kids are growing way too fast.

I have found hell....oh and some pictures too

Hell is a book fair.

No seriously. It is. I've had a looooong day of making copies, sorting copies, stapling copies, and putting copies in teachers' mailboxes for almost 500 elementary school students. All for PTA junk and the book fair.

Hell.....hell is a book fair.

Anyway, I've come to the realization that I have been an absolutely lousy picture taking Mom. For awhile I had the camera within reach pretty much wherever I went and I was getting some great shots. Then I guess I got lazy. Or I got lost in hell (see above) or something. So I've started taking pictures again of my favorite subjects, my kids.

When these girls hit their teens in about ten years and realize that boys DON'T have cooties, we are in so much trouble. Have you heard that new (terrible) country song "Come On In" yet? It's basically a dad telling some teenage punk to be careful while out with his daughter because he'll be at home cleaning his gun. Totally redneck and intimidating and stupid and stereotypical. At least until I started looking through pictures of my girls. I think I'll start pricing dead bolts now.









And then there's the Chunk. He's almost eleven months old. I cannot BELIEVE I am getting ready to start planning a first birthday party. And he's already the underdog on the "brother/bodyguard" thing because he's younger than the girls but seriously how is THIS face supposed to scare anyone off? I mean, a kitten might run for cover or something. Geez. He's just too dang cute for words.

*sigh*

Anyway, I'm really going to be trying to get my picasa account updated in the next week or so if I can dig out from under all the book fair and PTA junk I have on my plate right now. Skippy is going out of town on Sunday too so that will make for a crazy week of laundry and finding clean underwear. But for now, I've scattered some updated pictures throughout the blog, so scroll down and click around.

If anyone needs me, I'm sure that even the devil gives an occassional potty break. Lots of love.

A few last Huskie thoughts

Today they held a memorial ceremony at NIU for the five students killed on Valentine's Day in Cole Hall during a lecture class.

Tomorrow, after ten days of reflection, prayer, and grief, the students will return to classes.

Cole Hall is closed. Classes have been reassigned new locations. Churches are still open twenty four hours a day. Memorials are still up. Candles are still burning.

A campus is still greiving.

It's time for life to begin to get back to normal at NIU. Time for a tiny corner of the universe called DeKalb to re-enter the world and hold on for the ride as best they can.

Your university gets into your blood. There is something about your college experience. The people you meet and the things you learn become a part of you. Every memory has a purpose in your life. People go through things in college that shape who they become as adults. It doesn't matter where you go. Even if it's not an Ivy League School. Even if there isn't a football team that makes national headlines. Even if it's just a regular old public state university, it gets to you -- it gets into your heart. It becomes a matter of pride. Whether you make honor role or graduate on time or take part in student government or just hang out in your room, it's your experience. You will always wear those colors proudly.

NIU has been through a horrific experience. It's time to begin to heal.

Have faith Huskies. NIU will never forget. And it will never be forgotten.

Happy Saturday, and the conclusion of my mini-experiment

ACK! I haven't updated since the middle of the week!

Let's see....Wednesday I actually didn't run into anyone. Can you believe it?

Of course, I also didn't go anywhere! AhHA!

Thursday morning I had a PTA book fair meeting at Starbucks. While I was in the parking lot getting the Chunk's stroller out I ran into one of the pre-school Moms. Then that night I saw some friends at a Tastefully Simple Party. (mmmmm, beer bread)

Friday....I'm sitting here trying to think of if I ran into anyone on Friday. And believe it or not, I don't think I did. However we did go to the bank, where the teller greeted me by name. Then at the thrift store the clerk asked Kbear where her sister was (in school) so we still had run-ins with people who "know us" - at least to some extent.

And just now I was outside chatting with my next-door-neighbor, and one of the Moms from MOPS went jogging by!

So there you go. With very few exceptions, I was barely able to leave my house this week without running into someone - proof that my theory was correct! Yay me!

Anyway, we had the dodgeball tournament this morning. High comedy. Oh....so very high comedy. I'll have to write more about it later. Banana is at a playdate and the rest of us are going to go grab some late lunch and run some errands.

Happy Weekend!

The "Who Did Amy See" game continues

Today was Tuesday. Here we go.

This morning I had a MOPS meeting. MOPS (once again) stands for Mothers of Pre-schoolers. So I saw a lot of my Oregon Mommy-girlfriends at that meeting. That doesn't really count because it wasn't an errand. I'm just warming up my blog by making small talk.

Anyway, we actually stayed home most of the day. I had a terrible horrible no good very bad migraine this afternoon. So I just put the baby down for a nap, threw some cheerios on the floor in pretty patterns, and turned on Noggin for the girls.

Not really.

Well.....kinda. Except for the Cheerios on the floor part. But anyhow....

Around 3:30 I needed to get out of the house. I was seriously beginning to understand why some mothers eat their young. So we went to the new park. When I got to the park, I was surprised when I realized there wasn't one familiar face in the crowd of kids and parents checking out our new playground duds. Wondering if I was going to end up making a fool of myself on my own dang blog, I wandered over to the swings to give the Chunk a little push. About that time, I realized we had lost his shoe. And in the middle of our search, lo and behold, there is a dear new friend Andrea walking up with her family and offering to help.

We chatted for a bit in between herding munchkins and in between subjects I also found time to chat with a PTA Mom (Hi Dena!) that I spotted hanging out in her car while her son played.

Then around 5:15 we hightailed it out of the park and ran to get some dinner because I realized at some point that Brianna had open gym soccer at six. And of course while we were THERE, we ran into one of the little girls from her team this past year, with her dad - who I also know from the bus stop.

So there you go. Proving for yet another day that you can't go anywhere in this town without running into someone.


On a completely separate note, I realized today that I completely forgot to give my sweetheart of a husband a birthday shout out. This is probably fine with him, but I refuse to let birthdays just fade away. We did manage to have a fantastic BBQ diner with two other couples here at the house, complete with a fantastic birthday cake but I really did mean to say something here as well.

So there you go, father of my kids and keeper of my heart - Happy (belated) Birthday and I love you! I hope you like your new gecko that the kids somehow talked me into buying for you!

Going to play a game this week....

Not everyone understands the small-town-feel of the city we live in now. By all accounts, it's really NOT small. Small is when you live next door to your mama and your best friend's cousin's ex-husband lives six blocks away on the other side of town. THAT is small. There are 12,000 people here in The Dalles; in fact it's the largest city in the gorge. But there were also 12,000 people in our old stomping ground in Illinois and the difference is unreal. We lived in Sycamore for four years and I can't say I really knew anyone. We've lived here for one year and already we're forging connections and cross connections and running in multiple social circles. But that's not difficult because here, everyone knows EVERYONE. Everyone has CONNECTIONS. And all of the surrounding towns are pretty small so it feels pretty rural sometimes. Hell, having no Target is enough to make it feel rural to me, but I digress.

I always joke that not a day goes by where I don't run into someone I know while running errands or a friend doesn't randomly stop by while they are out and about in town. I can't seem to go anywhere without stopping to chat with someone who I bump in to. In a lot of ways, it's very nice and fun and neat. In a lot of ways, it's not because it means you feel like you can never run out to the grocery store in your grubby PJ pants with no bra on under your husband’s old faded sweatshirt - not even in the middle of the night for something REALLY important like ice cream. Because then you'll DEFINITELY run into someone.

So this week, I'm going to keep track of all the people I run into while out and about. We'll see if it's as bad as I think it is.

Here we go:
Sunday:
A gal I know from my MOPS group (that's Moms of Preschoolers) stopped by to pick up a few things. In chatting with her, I discovered that she grew up across the street from the house we're renting, knew our next door neighbor's younger siblings, and also knows our landlord.

Then while we were in Pet Co, we exchanged hellos with some neighbors who live three doors down. Little did I know that they were shopping for new puppy supplies until I saw them out with their new pup this afternoon.


Monday:
Today when I ran to Walgreen’s to hit the after-Valentine's Day sales I ran into Terra (she works here) who is a friend of a friend that I sometimes see at our girls' nights out.

Then I spent about an hour hanging out with my girlfriend Charlotte, because she always makes me feel normal. That was a spur-of-the-moment-yet-planned run-in so it’s not quite the same but still, hanging out with girlfriends in Illinois required much more planning than a five second last minute phone call.

Then when I ran into Freddies (that's Kroger for your Midwest people) I saw one of the Moms from PTA.

We'll see who I bump into tomorrow!

I look at my kids......

Sometimes I look at my kids and I see the potential in them, the promises yet unfilled, and all of the greatness that is waiting inside. I look at them and sometimes I feel crushed by the overwhelming responsibility that I have - to raise them to be good, respectful, loving people. To set a good example. To be perfect, and to show them that it's okay not to be perfect.

I look at my kids and my heart hurts because I love them so much. I look at them and I realize all over again that in a second they could be taken away from me. And then I just pray that I never know that kind of pain.

Today I should be blogging about our Valentine’s Day. I should be writing about how funny it was to give Skippy a new toilet seat (he’s been saying we need one) with a note attached telling him that he’s the shit. I should be blogging about how much fun the girls had at school. I should tell you all about the awesome dinner I made. But instead, today I found myself reflecting on the events at NIU yesterday, and on my job as a parent.

If your parents are like mine, you have pretty happy memories of growing up. You probably didn't have everything, but you had more than a lot of kids, maybe even more than most kids. You sat at the dinner table together. You went on vacations and to band concerts and school plays. Sometimes you thought they would NEVER EVER understand you and obviously they must not want you to be happy because like, everyone else can totally stay out until midnight. You loved them. You knew that they loved you (and still do) more than anything.

If my kids come away from their childhood with those same thoughts, I will be content.

When you choose to become a parent, the job doesn't end after eighteen years. Your children will always be your babies. When the job begins, you sit around at night and wonder how on earth you'll get them to kindergarten; if they will somehow manage to survive the skinned knees from riding a two wheeler and the run-in with the recliner after performing circus acts on the couch. Then the real whirlwind starts...open houses and teacher conferences and soccer and dance recitals and who knows what else. Suddenly you look at your five year old and realize that you sent her to school in jeans that are way too short...even though they just fit last week. And before too long, it will be dating and dances and driving and I'm pretty sure I'll find myself wondering if Skippy and I will survive their teen years.

And then they leave your house for the eye-opening experience that is college. Some people would say that your job is done.

But even then, they are still your babies. And part of you would die if you lost them.

Things affect you differently when you become a mother. Today I am homesick. I am homesick for my friends and I'm heartsick for my school. I miss my Mom, who is still only a phone call away. I miss my Dad, who bullied me through most of my college experience, always pushing me to do well. My thoughts continue to be with NIU. But today, my thoughts are mostly with the parents who have lost children of their own. Children they have raised to adulthood, trusting that they had done all they could to equip them for their college years. Children who won't be coming home, due to a senseless act of violence.

I spent a good part of today avoiding the news channels and websites. When I did tune in, I cried. I had to stop because Banana asked me what was wrong, and I found myself explaining to my five year old that mommy was sad because a very bad man did something that hurt a lot of people at a place that is very special to mommy and Daddy. My five year old doesn't need the troubles of the world on her shoulders. She's still my baby.

I realize sitting here that I have to let this emotion go - it pretty much kept me in my jammies all day and I can't say that I accomplished much. I don’t think I can blog about it anymore – I have to get through this emotion and realize once again that sometimes the world just sucks. Besides, the disbelief and sadness that I feel is nothing compared to the students, staff, and families of NIU. I won’t pretend to even begin to understand what they must be going through.

And I have three amazing kids who depend on me.

You are in my prayers tonight Huskies, and will continue to be in the days ahead.

God dammit, what's WRONG with people?

This is my old college. It's also Skippy's and Jax's and all of our other friends' school.

I had classes in Cole Hall. I'm sure that everyone else we know did as well - it's a popular lecture hall that holds a couple hundred people for gen ed classes and other large majors. Today some complete and total ASS decided he'd walk in and shoot a bunch of people.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/02/14/university.shooting/index.html

My thoughts and prayers are with the students who are injured.

Dammit. Happy Valentine's Day indeed. What in the hell is WRONG with people?

A blog update posted at 7:00p.m. pacific.... Authorities have confirmed the deaths of five students, plus the gunman. I can't even imagine what it's like on campus right now. NIU is near and dear to my heart - in a lot of ways I feel like it is where my life began. I wouldn't have Skippy in my life without NIU. I wouldn't have so many of my close friends who are like a second family to me.

This stuff happens at other schools. Not mine. That shouldn't be a building I once sat in on CNN. That shouldn't be MY old residence hall I can see in the background. This stuff doesn't happen in DeKalb, Illinois - birth of barbed wire and home of a good old fashioned corn fest. This stuff doesn't happen less than ten miles from where I was raising my family before we moved. It just doesn't.

I know that all I can do is pray for peace for those who are in pain right now. But it's not right that I should have to.

I said I wasn't going to do it....

I said I wasn't going to go overboard for Valentine's Day. I mean seriously, what is WITH Valentine's Day? It's become like the second coming of Christmas. I saw a guy last year in Walmart buying a BIKE for his kid for Valentine's Day. Now that's just silly.

So I said I wasn't going to go overboard.

*sigh*

What is it with our genetic makeup once we become mothers? I genuinely don't think it has anything to do with keeping up with the Joneses, because that kind of stuff has never really bothered me. My parents worked really hard to give us what we had and we never really worried much about what we DIDN'T have and we took pretty okay of the things we DID have. I'm not the kind of Mom who buys my kids something new every time we go to the store. They know I can't be manipulated that way. I'm actually really proud of that.

So why (and how) did my kids each end up with not only a new t-shirt to wear tomorrow to school for Valentine's Day but also a pair of heart socks, Valentine's Day buttons, mini puzzles, candy, plans for a fun dinner, AND goodie bags for each of their classmates on top of regular Valentines? How did that happen?

Yeah......

I said I wasn't going to go overboard.

*sigh*

Happy Hearts Day everyone.

In other news

First of all, would you look at my gorgeous girl? I mean, really. And I'm sorry I have been a dreadfully neglectful blogger. You all need to cut me a little slack, because my entire household had the flu. Even *I* got the damn bug. And Skippy was out of town for a week and the kids were miserable and kept out of school and I just wanted to sleep and sleep and sleep until next month. So I'm very sorry. And I'm sad that my reader counts have gone down. I KNOW my readers won't forsake me over one lousy bout of the flu! And I'll make up for it - as evidenced by my second blog in so many hours.

Anyway, I am officially an Oregon resident now. Today I went to the DMV and got my brand spanking new Oregon driver's license. I should have had it eleven months or so ago, which I found out when I got pulled over on Thursday night for unknowingly having a tailight out (I got a verbal warning and we got it fixed on Friday, don't worry Mom) but all's well that ends well as they say.

I was kind of sad when they punched a hole through my old Illinois card but alas, all good things must end. My sadness was mostly overshadowed by my nervousness over taking the written test. I haven't had to take a written test since I GOT my license when I was sixteen. Sixteen and a HALF to be exact, my Dad was a booger and made me wait six extra months. But anyway, it seemed like EVERYONE I talked to told me that they failed it the first time. When I was there, the two people who went in front of me FAILED it too! I was a total wreck.

Somehow my early morning cramming paid off - I got a 94%. Of course I took the practice tests for Oregon, Illinois, and Washington several times this morning and skimmed the entire Oregon driver's manual online in between chasing the kids around but hey, whatever gets the job done. Apparently I'm still good at short term studying. It sqeaked me through plenty of college classes, why should the DMV be any different?

So that's it. An hour and a half of my time and fifty five bucks later and I'm officially official!

A rambling winter rumination....

Hmmmmmm where to begin?

Since we're beginning to slowly but surely creep out of winter, I'll start with weather (specifically winter) - a mild obsession of mine.

Winter in Illinois is COLD. It's the kind of cold that you don't screw around with. I can remember ONE time in all of my educational years that school was closed because it was too cold to be outside and that was because the pipes froze. Now mind you, that doesn't mean it wasn't cold - it just means that when it's ten below, you just bundle up a little better for your trek out to the bus stop.

And the wind. People here in the Columbia Gorge think they understand the wind - and they DO - I mean, it's the windsurfing capital of the universe or some such junk. But the wind in Chicago....you can lean into it and not fall down while walking down the street. It's the kind of winter wind that absolutely burns your lungs with your first searing breath out the front door. Banana used to cry when we would run from the door to the car that her "BOOGIES WERE FROZEN!" And don't even get me started on the wind chill.

Case in point. Today in my hometown it is ten degrees. With the wind chill it's negative two. Over the weekend they had a wind chill advisory because temps dipped to twenty six. BELOW zero. And they are expecting six inches of new snow on top of what they already have.

That's pretty darn average for this time of year in Chicago. And business will go on as usual. People will go to work, go to school, and go get groceries. No one is running out to stock up on bread and milk - it's just another day in and around the windy city. The threat of snow SHOULD be over by the end of March....then again the year I was pregnant with Banana the skies dropped seven inches of the white stuff on April 1.

If that kind of weather hit our part of the gorge, life would STOP. It would be the STORM OF THE CENTURY that the newscasters predict on a weekly basis in Chi-town. Here, the grocery stores had primroses outside on February first. Here, its 55 degrees, and it's supposed to be near sixty on Saturday. This is NOT unseasonable. People are already planning their gardens, and cleaning out flowerbeds. I went outside without a jacket today and felt FINE.

Now that being said, the threat of snow isn't over just yet - the foothill/mountain thingies across the river out my kitchen window will probably still get dusted a few times and we may even still get a stray inch of snow a time or two before it's all over. But it's doubtful. And if it DOES happen, there will be no school. And that's because there are no plows. In Illinois every subdivision has at least one. Here we're lucky if each TOWN has one.

Sometimes I miss the snow. It's been a banner year for snowfall in Illinois and I miss looking outside and seeing it pile up. I do not however, miss shoveling it. Then I remember that all I have to do is hop in the car and drive towards that big old rock they call Hood. In a half hour, I will have snow quite literally, up to my ass. If it's been a banner year in Illinois, it's been a phenomenally unheard of year on the mountain here. They are currently under ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR inches of snow on Hood. That's over fifteen feet people. I don't even know how they go about measuring snow like that.

So I don't miss the snow too much. It's only a half hour away. And in the meantime, I can start shopping for plants for my garden every time I run to Safeway.

Still here!

So I've gotten yelled at by several people over the course of the last week for not updating my blog.

Honestly, it's just business as usual around here. We've been watching way too much political TV, doing the school grind, and getting over the flu. Ugh. We all had it and it sucked big time but I think the end is FINALLY in sight.

Skippy is working, kids are learning, and I'm PTA-ing and cleaning and laundering and who knows what else-ing. Helping to coordinate the book fair at Banana's school. Eating too many no-bake chocolate peanut butter oatmeal cookies. Enjoying watching the news and seeing that Mt Hood has gotten FEET upon FEET of snow while we're dry in the gorge. Just taking it all one day at a time.

We may go to OMSI this weekend because Skippy is on call for the next two week sand that keeps us local. My best friend Jax is coming to visit in a few weeks. Skippy's birthday is coming. I'm totally excited for Banana to have her first ever real Valentine's Day party at school.

Just getting through. I promise to write something more very soon. Lots of love.

Business or pleasure?

*sigh*

Skippy has to travel for work today. I'm used to it. In fact, I really don't mind it too much. When he travels, the kids and I eat out, raid the dollar store, get off our routine, and generally wreck havoc until he comes home. I dig it.

Now there was a time when he was travelling more than he was home. That was rough. But with the Goog, he's just starting to travel again and let's face it, sometimes a little work-imposed break from your spouse is kind of nice. Because then no one is around to yell at you if you eat an entire half gallon of ice cream and watch Love Actually twice on a Thursday night.

So anyway, I'm in the middle of laundry hell. How my family accumulates so many dirty clothes is honestly beyond me. It boggles the mind. But Skippy is coming home on his lunch to pack and grab the camera and kiss the kids and then he's off, so I need to get it finished.

Where is he going, you might ask? A conference? An upgrade? Some horrible beast of a problem that will require blood, sweat, tears and overtime?

Nope.

He's going dog sledding. At Whistler. Yes, Whistler in Canada. With the rest of the Western half of the Google. They are going to eat and drink and ski and sled and generally have a fantastic time, thanks to the generosity of their employer while us Google wives sit at home and grouse about the whole damn thing. Then they will come home with beautiful pictures and awesome stories that will make us want to beat them with a snowshoe.

Those guys get all the fun.

Amy, in review

Ok, so I stole this off of my sister Sarah's myspace page. And I know that surveys of any type are like, so totally LAME. But it's Saturday. And it's sleeting outside. And the kids are all playing nicely and there really aren't any hilarious stories to share or righteous political statements I feel like making. And I don't want to do my laundry yet. So here we go.

My story


******************************************************
Hi, my name is: Amy.

But you can call me: Amy, Ame, or in Skippy's case, Babe. At Banana's school they call me Mrs. Webber and I still haven't stopped looking for my mother-in-law over my shoulder when that happens.

Never in my life have I: Had any desire to go Scuba diving. All that water, all around....ugh I'm getting hives.

The one person who can drive me nuts is: Wait, I can only pick one? Um......I'll say either one of my girls when they get on a 20 questions kick and I'm trying to do something really super important like watch Ellen.

My high school was: Oswego High School. Go Drama Department!

When I'm nervous: I eat. And it's usually not something that's good for me. It's a Cinnamon Melt and a Coke from McDonald's or something that will stick to my ass for the next fourteen years. It must be my Italian Grandmother's influence - here you look sick, eat.

The last song I listened to was: That would be I've Got Friends by Garth. It was the last song on his concert that I watched on CBS last night. I know. Shut up.

If I were to get married right now it would be to: This question is moot. I'm already married and I think Skippy might object if I wanted things differently.

My hair is: The bane of my existence. I'm attempting to grow it out for the first time in about seven years and right now I hate it. I'm very tempted to go cut it short again but I'm staying strong. It's just that when I wake up I look like Medusa. Or Don King, take your pick.

When I was 4: I was still the only child. That's before my parents scarred me with siblings. I'm KIDDING. Sort of.

Last Christmas: Was our first one in Oregon. It rocked in an exhausting kind of way.

I should be: Cleaning my fridge. Something in there bit me.

When I look down I see: Chunk. He's playing on the floor next to me and drooling on my sock.

The happiest recent event was: Spending the day with my family in Portland for my birthday. We had a fabulous time. There's a blog about it around here somewhere.

If I were a character on 'Friends': I'd be skinny and I wouldn't hate my hair.

By this time next year: We will hopefully be much closer to buying a house and with luck, we will have a new vehicle.

My current gripe is: That I'm the only one in this house that understands the point of a laundry hamper.

I have a hard time understanding: Everything that's wrong with the world today. That's deep. I'm deep huh?

There's these girls: They are four and five and they are the light of my life.

If I won an award, the first person I would tell would be: Skippy, then my Mom.

I want to buy: A minivan. A house. A maid.

Where do you plan to visit: Sweet Home Chicago baby! And we want to go to the coast this year at some point.

If you spent the night at my house: You'd stay up too late and then you would wake up with pet hair on your jammies but we'd make you a fantastic breakfast to make up for it.

The world could do without: Lots of things. Right now I'll say politics.

Most recent thing someones bought me: I got a crazy haul of birthday presents. A new coat from my Mom that is wonderful and warm, flowers from my husband, and oodles of other stuff. A girlfriend gave me a mug and some candy and a Starbucks card for my birthday, and I just got it last week because my husband forgot it. So thank you Kat! Yvonne also gave me knitting stuff. I'm really super excited about that, I just wish that the instructions weren't written in Swahili. No. They are. Really.

Most recent thing i bought myself: Probably a trashy magazine to read in the tub. Or chocolate. Or Starbucks.

My middle name is: Lynn. Blech.

In the morning I: Curse the school district for dragging me out of bed early and then not having the decency to at LEAST give me a respite with all day Kindergarten.

Last night I was: At my niece's basketball game and then out for pizza with my sister-in-law's family.

There's this guy I know who: Gives the best hugs. Luckily I married him.

If I were an animal I'd be a: A mama bear. I like to sleep in the winter, I'll kick your ass if you aren't nice to my kids, and I have a big butt and when I can't find my razor, hairy legs. That was an over-share. But it's a funny one.

A better name for me would be: You know, I think I'm an Amy.

Tomorrow I am: Going to paint two walls in my living room, get a Sunday paper, and go grocery shopping. Is that super duper exciting or what? I may need oxygen. Or at least another Starbucks.

Tonight I am: Going to tape and trim two walls in my living room, make spaghetti with Italian sausage, spinach salad, and bread, do some laundry, give my kids baths, put them to bed, watch a movie, have a bottle...I mean a glass of wine, and then crash.

My birthday is: Over for the year! Now we're gearing up for Skippy's next month.

How would you describe yourself: I'm a walking, talking emotional roller coaster and I'm a damn good Mom.

Woot! They did it again!

Fortune Magazine has once again published their list of the top 100 companies to work for.

For the second year in a row, guess who's on top.

*dramatic drumroll please*

Yes, it's THE GOOGLE. You can read all about it here:
http://money.cnn.com/galleries/2008/fortune/0801/gallery.bestcos_top50.fortune/

They are some of the coolest geeks I know!

A rambling post-weekend blog

Nothing new to report really. It's just that if I don't update regularly, you all start emailing me asking where the blog is. We had a nice, uneventful weekend. Just kind of hung out, watched football, did eight million loads of laundry, and then pulled two MORE loads out of the bottom of the girls' closet. Then we had a little talk about laundry and closets.

Saturday night we went out to dinner for our anniversary and another couple joined us. I have beautiful daydreamy visions (complete with a fog machine and cheesy music) of quiet, private dinners where it's just Skippy and I, sharing a bottle of wine and spending way too much on some fancy food that we could make at home for a fraction of the price, without a child in sight. Then I realize that for at least the next ten years until my kids are big enough to be on their own for two hours without burning the place down, that's just not going to happen. So instead we asked some friends to come with us and we introduced them to our favorite hippie granola all natural pizza place over in Washington and it was really fun and very yummy. The only bummer was that they had been closed for a holiday hiatus for three weeks so they didn't have everything on hand that they usually do. So that was a little chaotic and unorganized. But the pizza, as always, was stellar. Then we all went out for ice cream.

But anyway, I'm just kind of all over the place today. Skippy and I are in the process of trying to paint the living room. Because we can't live with all white walls all the time anymore. And with us losing money on the midwest house, I think we're going to be in this rental for awhile so we may as well do what we can to spruce it up while we save our pennies. And I'm still digging out from under the laundry.

I figure this is as good a time as any to do an undate on the kids.

Banana is doing great in kindergarten. We're still having some issues with her talking during classtime, but I'm glad she is enjoying herself so much. She is learning to read and she loves taking the bus home in the afternoon. Right now she's very into coloring and drawing and we read almost every night. She is also an awesome big sister. I am very proud of her. On Saturday she was just busting out one question after another about everything from weather to rocks, which resulted in Skippy giving her a crash course in plate tectonics in the car. Her new obsession is helping me in the kitchen. Yesterday she helped me make chicken tortilla soup and she did a fantastic job.

Kbear is a handful these days. If I had to sum her up in one word, it would be FOUR. She's just busy being four, and trying to figure out where she fits in, where she can push us, where she can't, and what she can get away with. She's getting so BIG all of a sudden - both of the girls will be taller than me before I know it. Let's just hope Chunk got the same genes. The Kbear can go from being a bundle of destructive fury to the warmest sweetest little cuddler in about three seconds flat. She is all about make-believe right now. And dress up. And making sure her baby brother doesn't touch her stuff. She's still going to pre-school twice a week and I can't wait for pre-K next year when it gets a little more intense for her because I think she'll really take off.

And the Chunk is just the light of my life. I can't believe his first birthday is looming ahead in the not-so-distant future already. He's nine and a half months old and he's babbling and crawling like a madman. He LOVES sweet potatoes. He LOVES pears. And I can't for the life of me get him to take a bottle or a sippy cup, which is causing me some considerable angst. But he's just a doll. Every day he discovers something new and we just love watching him grow. He adores his big sisters and wants to be wherever they are. And he's already cruising around while holding the furniture. I don't think it will be too long before we see our first steps.

So the kids are good. For the most part, everyone is healthy. Sometimes I can't believe that I had a hand in making these beautiful kids. I sit back and I just watch them when they aren't looking and I see so much beauty and all the potential that they have. My heart just swells.

Then they start throwing Cheerios or they lock the cat in the closet and I realize how much work I still have ahead of me.

And finally, the story of us, part three

So I moved home in the summer of 2000 and settled into life as a grown up. I began working as a technical writer downtown and between visiting my ass of a boyfriend who was still at NIU and taking the train to and from Chicago every day, I didn't have a lot of spare time to sit around wondering what Skippy was up to. I was busy trying to learn to be a responsible adult. In the fall I found myself unexpectantly single again, and after that I really plunged into my work, trying to put NIU behind me.

That December, my bestest girlfriend Jax graduated with her teaching degree. And as my bestest girlfriend, I of course wanted to attend her graduation ceremony. So we spent the weekend bumming around the campus that until recently, had been our home. We saw old friends, hit the bars, and just had fun. Somehow we ended up in Walmart around midnight the night before graduation. Maybe we were feeling nostalgic. Because in DeKalb, Illinois there isn't that much to do in the middle of the night. Except go to Walmart. Jax used to call me to go out and buy new socks. She didn't have a weird fetish, she just hated doing laundry. So who knows, maybe we were reliving our glory days. Sad huh?

And on our way out the door who walks in? Who, you may ask?

Of course. It was Skippy. If I remember correctly, he was making a late night run for cat food - because let me tell ya, nothing spells rekindled romance like meow mix.

So after standing there in shock for a few minutes, we made some uncomfortable small talk and before I realized what was happening, we all ended up back at the same apartment where a couple of other former co-workers were living. For the next two hours Skippy and I kept meeting each other's eyes and I swear all of the resentment and anger was still there, but there was a sadness too. I realized I missed my friend. Best of all, his girlfriend was no where in sight.

The following week I was sitting at my desk procrastinating work by checking my email for the eleventy-billionth time of the day and there it was.....an email from Skippy. Basically, it was a hey-I-know-we-haven't-talked-in-forever-but-I-kinda-miss-you-wanna-get-together-for-dinner kind of email. And naturally, I accepted.

Thus began the Skippy and Amy Wednesday night dates. Every Wednesday without fail, he would drive his beat up Chevy Blazer out to meet my train in Fox Valley and we'd go out for dinner. I started to revolve my weeks around Wednesday. I LOVED getting off the train on Wednesday. We'd sit for hours and talk. Before we realized it, we had slipped easily back into our old patterns without missing a beat.

Then one night he noticed that I was quiet while we were on our way back to my parents' house. And let's face it, I'm anything but quiet. We've always been able to talk about anything and everything so my blunt refusal to meet his eyes was probably setting off some pretty big alarm bells. Finally at a red light, he pulled me over across the front bench seat of the Blazer and demanded to know what was wrong.

I turned my face away. Then I buried it in his shoulder. Then I turned and stared out the window and tried to mentally make the Dunkin Donuts at the corner of New York and 59 levitate while I quietly told him that I was pretty sure I was falling in love with him.

I remember his arm tightening around me so clearly. He sighed and my heart fell. After all of these years of back and forth and up and down, this was the part where he'd try to let me down easy. I mentally started taking an inventory of ice cream in my Mom's freezer at home. I wouldn't even need a bowl. Just a big old spoon and a box of tissues.

But instead he softly replied "Thank God. Because I'm falling in love with you."

And that was that. From then on, when we weren't working, we were together. On the weekends I would drive out to DeKalb and during the week we continued our Wednesday night dates. Then he moved even closer to my Mom and Dad's and we took our first vacation together, to Oregon while I was out there working at a new job during the summer. We started to talk about moving in together. We started to talk about getting engaged. And on September 25, 2001, I discovered that I was pregnant. That pretty much sealed the deal.

We were married on January 19, 2002. It has been a wild, turbulent, wonderful, emotional and challenging six years. Six years, three babies, and one cross country move later, I love him more than ever.

And he's still my best friend.

The story of us, part two

You know looking back on it now, I'm reasonably sure that I wasn't even a blip on Skippy's radar that day. I was just another curious face in a big intimidating group of people who for half a year, had already been doing the job that he was about to start. But I sized him up GOOD. I took one good hard long look at his six foot, four inch frame topped by curly hair and some majorly THICK glasses, and pretty much wrote him off. Just another co-worker. No threat. No problem.

And as the weeks wore on, I became accutely aware of how much I DISLIKED him.

He was loud. And he had more dirty jokes in his arsenal than anyone I'd ever met. His residents liked him and he settled right into the RA dinner table with no problems. You'd do rounds on his floor and there he was, sitting at his desk with the door open feverishly working away at some foreign piece of computer code. He'd want to chat, of course. He ALWAYS wanted to chat. But I already despised him. I despised his easy going manner and the way he seemed to be worming his way into what I considered *my* group of friends. When I was on duty, I'd RACE through his floor during rounds so that I wouldn't get stuck talking to him. He was way too nice - no one could possibly be THAT nice. Besides, he was a computer geek. Computer geeks like, so totally weren't my thing. But once he caught on, I swear he made it his mission to antagonize me in any way he could. He's go whizzing by me on his bike while I walked home from class, missing me be mere inches. He'd decide that the night I had a term paper to write was the perfect night to hang Christmas lights in his room. It was like third grade all over again, without the pigtails.

But as the year finally ended and the summer loomed ahead, I got excited about my desicion to stay on campus and work in the conference center. Then I found out that Skippy was staying on as well, as a summer RA.

Seriously? Was God punishing me?

But a funny thing happened that summer. We became friends. We started eating lunch together with the same group of people. We found ourselves hanging out when he came over to our building to chat with one of his best buddies, who I worked with. We started watching movies together. Played volleyball. Went to the bars. Hung out. Much to my surprise, I found myself missing him when he wasn't around.

And then out of nowhere, one fateful night we were MORE than friends. I won't go into details, because my Mom reads my blog and that's just weird. So does my grandma for that matter. But suddenly, I was plunged headfirst into actually LIKING Skippy. And I didn't tell a soul. Because how do you admit to your closest friends that just MAYBE, you have a thing for the one guy you spent all year professing to despise? I figured it was a summer fling and that like the summer, it would come to an end.

And sure enough, it did. We spent the next school year in a odd flux between friends and almost friends and not quite friends and more than friends. I had confessed the truth about our fling to my best friend Jacquie, who stared at me in disbelief for a good two minutes and then promptly pulled me out the door and towards margaritas and salvation. But it was over. Done. He had a new girlfriend. And man did she hate me with a passion. I had a new boyfriend who was so totally different from Skippy, and so not right for me in every sense. To complicate matters, we had floors four and five so we literally spent the entire year living right on top of each other. We had a major love-hate thing going on.

But eventually the year ended, and with it came the end of my college carreer. For a variety of reasons, Skippy and I weren't on speaking terms when I left NIU. And for the most part, I wrote it off. I missed him, but it just wasn't meant to be. Besides, he had a girlfriend. I had a boyfriend. And it had just been a fling.

Right?

It's STORY TIME again! *wild applause* (Part One)

Travel back in time with me if you will, to Northern Illinois University. Once upon a time (aka, my junior year) I was working as an RA for the second year. RA stands for Resident Assistant - basically the one student who slaves away for unending hours keeping an eye on all of the other crazy college kids on his or her residence hall floor, all in exchange for free room and board and very little pay. RAs are the ones who have to console broken hearts, write up the trouble makers, and always have a supply of free health service condoms outside their door for the residents to pillage. I genuinely loved my job and the people I worked with - being an RA is what introduced me to some of my closest friends and those bonds have only gotten stronger with time.

But anyway, we had a really excellent staff and despite it's quirky little cliques, it was a tight group. After all, when you spend the majority of your time working with the same 20 people instead of going out to the bars and doing beer bongs at the frat houses like any other self-respecting college kid, you kind of develop a bond.

One of our staff members had just left us mid-year to go to a different position within the building. It was an unusual situation, and we were all curious about who the new replacement RA would be. So there we are, sitting in our staff meeting, talking about university business and bulletin boards and all sorts of uber-exciting stuff, and the door opens. Staff meetings are a closed affair, so it could only be one person. Mr. Replacement RA had arrived.

I immediately sized him up. Partly because I was a well respected member of the staff and I took a lot of pride in being one of the people that other staff members came to. I frequently won awards for my programs and attended leadership conferences regularly. In other words, I sat pretty far up on my own high horse. I kicked ass, and at the oh-so-grown-up age of twenty, you'd better believe I knew it. And I wasn't about to let anyone saunter in and usurp my spot.

Now the other reason I sized him up is because admitedly, I was just a tad boy-crazy in college. If I could have had a second major, it would have been the opposite gender. It was dangerous ground, considering that inner-staff dating wasn't exactly encouraged, but I usually didn't let little things like that stop me. It didn't matter in any event, because I could tell right away that he wasn't my type.

He smiled nervously, and then our boss introduced us to Skippy.

More to come - I have to go do some laundry.

I think I'm officially a transplant now

So exactly one year ago today, I woke up in my mother-in-law's house. In Oregon. I had spent the day before saying goodbye to my own mother, who is one of my absolute best friends, wrangling airport security with two kids and three pets, and being hugely, emotionally, pregnant.

It goes without saying that Oregon is significantly different from Illinois. I mean aside from the fact that it's not flat. And there's no corn fields. And you can ski here. I'm a Chicago girl at heart, despite never living in the city itself - when you've spent your entire life within an hour of downtown, it gets into you anyway. I'm a Cubs-loving, Chicago hot dog eating, deep dish pizza loving kind of girl. (And let me just say, the pizza here kind of sucks, but that's a whole 'nother blog.) To me that skyline says HOME and to some extent, it always will. It's where I was born and raised, where a huge portion of my extended family lives, where I went to school, met my husband, fell in love, and forged some of my best frienships. It really *is* "sweet home Chicago" in every sense.

And somehow, I woke up one day and found myself in Oregon. On January 17 of last year, to be exact. Surrounded by hills and mountains and people who thought it was funny when I said "pasta." My husband was five hours away in some little town in the Columbia Gorge, slaving away for Google in between Wii bowling in the rec room and after work, he was trying to get our rental house secured. We weren't sure of too many things - if this had been a wise choice, if our kids were weathering all of the changes okay, or even if *I* was weathering all of the changes okay. It was the middle of winter. Under lead-gray skies, even the mountains failed to raise my spirits much. I was pregnant, scared, and quite literally, a stranger in a strange land. Little did I know then how wonderful it would all turn out to be.

So much has happened in the past year. Our son was born - one of the bright lights of my life. He has changed who I am as a mother, and after some of our past pregnancy issues (I had a very scary ectopic rupture following a miscarriage in between Kbear and Chunk) he is one of the most precious gifts I've ever recieved. I wouldn't be the same without him.

My girls started school. Banana is rockin' the house in Kindergarten and Kbear is absolutely flourishing in preschool. We've gotten involved in dance, soccer, and PTA. We have settled into small-town life. We have wonderful neighbors and fantastic friends. Skippy has a terrific job, working for what is pretty much one of the coolest companies ever. Although I miss our Chicago loved ones terribly, I'm too busy to be lonely. Airplanes are a lovely thing. And I've learned that a little distance can't change true friendships. It makes us treasure our time on the phone and during visits that much more.

A year ago I sat in the car outside our rental house and shivered in the cold. Then I called my best girlfriend Jax and cried and told her that I was pretty sure I was in hillbilly mountain hell, and I didn't know what on earth we had done.

Now, I have so many wonderful friends. I can pop in on Charlotte or Nicole and say hi, or grab dinner with the Google gals, or catch a movie with AmyM. I'm involved in the school and with the community. I can't go ANYWHERE without running into someone I know - which is pleasant as long as I have a bra on and I've brushed my hair. Our mailman knows our name. So does our bank teller. And at the gas station they always have biscuits for Bailey.

My children never get tired of exploring all of the new sights. We road trip regularly and get in some awesome family time doing new things. And in a lot of ways, my husband and I are closer than ever. I understand why we were best friends before we were together - and I realize that he is still without a doubt, my very best friend.

And I'm happy. Truely, genuinely happy.

The best family day EVER!

Yesterday we wrapped up my 30th birthday extravaganza with a day in Portland. It was exactly what I asked for - a day with my family doing something fun. We were literally exhausted when we got home, but in the best way you could imagine.

The day got off to a rough start. Skippy woke up with a pretty bad migraine. The puking kind. Ew. We had initially wanted to be out the door early, but that put the brakes on our plans while we waited to see what his neurons would do. And anyway, when I woke up at 7:15 and realized that my house was silent and all three of my children were still asleep, you can bet your sweet buns I did the mental happy dance and snuggled back down into the sheets for a rare bit of sleeping in on a Saturday.

So once the kids were up around 8:30 (yes, that is sleeping in when you have kids) I herded them out to the car and we took a ride to Safeway, raided the donut case, grabbed a six pack of OJ, got mommy a Starbucks, then grabbed a table and had breakfast together. The idea was to let Skippy get some sleep in a quiet house and hope for the best. To kill some extra time we walked down to PetCo for some kitty litter and picked out some new fish for the girls' aquarium then played with the puppies there for adoption and generally caused havoc all over the store.

When we got home we played the game "how quiet can we be for one hour?" This is not a fun game when you are five or four years old. But somehow we managed and eventually Skippy's head no longer felt like it was stuck in a searing hot vice and we were able to get on with our day.

So we got the hell outta dodge for the afternoon and hit the road for Ptown. It's about an hour's drive to Portland but we were busy the entire way counting waterfalls and rainbows along the gorge. Talk about beautiful. We've had a lot of rain and a lot of snowmelt so the water just runs wherever it can find space - aside from the "regular" waterfalls we always see, I think we saw at least a dozen others - probably close to twenty in all. Add in the three separate rainbows and the girls were in heaven.

Closer to the city we made our first stop at (insert musical fanfare) TARGET! *happy dance* I needed a new stroller. Well *I* didn't need a new stroller, but the Chunk did, and I've had my eye on one there for awhile. It's kind of a souped up umbrella stroller but with trays and a reclining position and a canopy and best of all, a basket on the bottom. Plus, it folds down into a third of the space that my old travel system does in the trunk. This "kingdom for a minivan" thing is no joke people. We squeeze three kids into the backseat of a pontiac grand prix on a regular basis and we need every inch of trunk space we can get for all the other crap that comes along with three kids. Otherwise we'd be strapping Banana to the roof of the car and although I bet all that fresh air would be great, I doubt the bugs in her teeth would do much for personal hygiene. So yay, I got a new stroller. It's awesome.

Our next stop was the highlight of our day (as if Target wasn't enough!): OMSI - the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry. Talk about a kickass place. I can't believe we haven't been there before. We had sooooooo much fun. It is one of the most hands-on educational museums I have ever seen. Upstairs they have a "Science Playground" for little kids and we played there for at least an hour with sand, computers, water, blocks, you name it - they even had a little area for the Chunk with a floor-level fish tank, ball pit, and all sorts of baby stuff. Then we explored the Earth Science hall where the girls put their hands through a tornado, played with the infrared screen (Skippy liked that too), and had a blast on the orbit tables seeing how things fly through space....come to think of it Skippy liked THAT too! But we saved the best hall for last - the turbine hall. In there they were able to make windmills, water rockets, and sailboats, and they loved taking dixie cups and cutting them into different shapes to see how they would "fly" over the huge turbines. We played in the earthquake house, experimented with little nerf balls and all the different ways to use air to shoot them all over the place, and finally had to pull Skippy away from the table where you had to see if you could build an 18 inch lego tower that would support a playground ball "water tower" in an earthquake. We did so much more but I can't even begin to cover it all. Suffice it to say that we were worn OUT when we left. But thankfully, we can go back anytime we want - after doing the math when we first arrived, we realized we only have to go to OMSI three times this year to pay for a full family membership and since my wonderful godmother sent us some extra Christmas money for just such an adventure, we decided to go for it and now we have unlimited OMSI visits for a year - we already can't wait to go back when they bring the dinosaur exhibit and it's something that all of our out-of-town-company will love.

Here's some OMSI highlights, Banana preparing to blast off, Chunk playing with blocks, and Kbear with her beautiful butterfly computer painting...























So after we finally closed the place down at 5:30 we all piled back into the car and headed out of the city and over to Gresham for dinner. Our next-door-neighbors gave us a Red Lobster gift certificate for Christmas and we decided that my birthday weekend was as good a time as any to use it. As much as I like living in the middle of nowhere, I do regularly mourn the fact that we have no good chain restaurants in this town. I like supporting the Mom and Pop places as much as the next guy, but every so often you just want to go somewhere and open up the same old regular menu that thousands of other customers in hundreds of other locations have opened before you. It's a nostalgic thing, in a "where everybody knows your name" kind of way. So we stuffed ourselves silly. Seriously. It was soooooo good. We were talking about our day at the museum and when I asked my girls if they had fun, Banana exclaimed that it was the BEST DAY OF HER LIFE. Now THAT, is high praise my friends. High praise indeed.

After we rolled ourselves out the restaurant door, we made two more quick stops - Kohl's (drool), and then back to Target (double drool) and finally at long last we hit the road for home at ten. Our backseat promptly turned into a worn out pile of snoring monkeys and Skippy and I had a nice chat the whole way home.

It really WAS the best day ever.

The day after.

Thirty isn't as exciting when it's NOT your birthday. But then again, it's not all that bad either. Everyone keeps on telling me that your thirties are the time when you stop sweating the small stuff - Skippy would probably say it's about damn time. So here's to a great year.

Yesterday was a really nice day. We had lunch at Google, hung around the house, took naps, and made a cake. The doorbell rang ALL day. First a package came for me - it was from LL Bean and my Mama and inside was a fabulous new winter coat, just right for my new Oregon mountain woman persona. The next time it rang was for another deliver - this one of the biggest and most beautiful arrangement of a dozen roses I have EVER seen. My husband rocks. The damn things are half as big and I am and they are just gorgeous. He's a doll. Then later we got our new Wii Sports. Which wasn't for my birthday - it was actually to replace the one that Chunk decided to use to aid him in crawling around my hardwood living room floor. So even though it wasn't for my birthday I was way excited because we have missed our Wii bowling. Then Skippy schooled me in tennis. That part wasn't so fun.


Anyway, we went out for dinner at one of our favorite Mexican spots, which was fun. I wasn't too thrileld when they plopped the big sombraro on my head to sing "Happy Birthday, cha cha cha" but the kids loved it and Skippy was mighty tickled too. Then we came home and had cake and watched a new Grey's Anatomy and it was just a fabulous birthday all around. Tomorrow we're spending the day as a family in Portland and I can't wait for that either!

On a different note, one of my new year's resolutions was to be more aware of the things I eat. I saw this today and almost passed out. How many have YOU eaten?
http://listoftheday.blogspot.com/2007/01/americas-20-worst-foods.html

Happy birthday to ME!!!!!

First of all, look at my little pastry chefs. Are they cute or what?

So when I wasn't looking, my birthday snuck up on me and I turned thirty.

Ok......seriously who am I kidding right? I've been obsessing over the calendar all year.

But anyway, thirty feels good. I'm not old. I mean I've got three gorgeous healthy kids, a wonderful marriage (going on six years in a week or so!) and overall, a pretty great life. Had ups, had downs, and in general, just hanging out.

Lots of people have asked me what we're doing to celebrate. The bummer about a January Thursday birthday is that your options are limited. So I think tonight we're going out to dinner (Skippy offered to cook but he has to work and then that means dishes), and then on Saturday we're going to go have a family day in Portland - hit OMSI, Powell's books, and who knows what else. There will definitley be a trip to Target in there - that alone makes it a spectacular birthday!

So anyway, today the kids and I are making a cake, but right now we've got to run - they are having prime rib for lunch at the Google just for ME!

Ok, not really just for me, but we are running up there for prime rib with Skippy! Lots of love!

Snow day!

HA! Fool me once, shame on you! Fool me twice....

Remember the last time it snowed and like a big old dummy I assumed that we still had school because after all, it was only like an inch of snow and I hustled my kids out the door and up the hill? Only to find out that there WAS no school?

Well last night we got about two inches of snow and TODAY like a smart mommy I checked the radio first. Sure enough, two inches of Oregon snow = no school!

Kids are outside making a snowman. Or trying to make a snowman. Chunk has legos. I'm going to build a fire. It's a movie day!

In which I write my first movie review....

This past Saturday night, I did something I have never done before. It was a strange and somewhat eye-opening experience.

I went to a movie by myself.

I was all set to feel all self conscious about it - I mean the only women who go to movies by themselves are middle age chicks with bad home dye jobs and six cats, right?

So completely WRONG.

It was great. No sharing my popcorn. No sitting there wondering if the person next to me can hear me crunching on my M&Ms. No armrest issues. Just me, tucked away into a theater chair, passing some "me-time."

Anyway, I decided to see Juno. It was absolutely excellent. Very funny, very different, and very real. I thought that Ellen Page did a fantastic job. It looks like she has done mostly TV stuff to this point, but watch out! She was funny and deadpan and emotional and vulnerable and adorable. Jennifer Garner was also great - I think that people are used to seeing her in strong kickass female roles like Alias, but in this she spent a good portion of the movie teetering on an emotional ledge - you were torn between feeling pity and wanting to give her a good hard "get with it girlfriend" slap. She made me cry at the end. I was surprised to see Allison Janney as well (of The West Wing) but only because I haven't seen her in anything in quite some time. She was excellent. And Jason Bateman was also well cast, giving us just the right mix of attractive and sexy and emotionally cripled butthead. Despite a little too much "teen speak" (which made me realize that I am OLD), I laughed my butt off and at the end I even cried.

It was a lot of fun. I absolutely hate buying DVDs for anyone but the kids because we buy them and we're all excited because "It was such a GREAT movie!" and then we rarely watch them. But I think I would buy this one. AND watch it.

Not a bad night out for thirteen bucks - with popcorn.

So I'm going to tell you a story.....

It's about this dream I had not too long ago. If you're already heard it, be quiet and sit with the other kids criss-cross-applesauce, and listen anyway. I have an emotional need to blog about this today.

Back in March, when my son came into the world, as soon as he got his first breath he promptly screamed his head off and turned a healthy shade of maroon This was after two days of hellacious labor, followed by a stressful moment when we discovered that the cord wrapped twice around his neck. He was loud and wrinkly and looked just like his daddy. Despite this, I still thought he was perfect and fell instantly in love with him.

When the baby blues set in (as they inevitably did) I found myself missing my Dad something fierce. I missed my Mom too, because we lived in the same state when the girls were born and having a baby when you are away from the Mom you are super close too kind of sucks, but my Dad and I weren't anywhere near living in the same state any more - hell we weren't even in the same plane of existance anymore. Tomorrow is the anniversary of the day that my Dad died.

This hurt. It really weighed heavily on me that he wasn't here to see my son. When he died it was hard enough to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn't be here to watch my girls grow up, but to completely miss the entire life of one of my children....that's hard. It's unfair. Sometimes I still kind of feel like stomping my foot at the universe and putting it in time out over the whole darn thing. But that's the way it is.

So anyway, one night when the Chunk was a few weeks old, I went to bed and promptly fell into that deep and exhausted yet ready for anything sleep that only a mother can understand. And I had this dream....

I was walking down a hospital corridor. It wasn't the local hospital here where Chunk was born - it was actually the one back in Illinois where Banana was born, where my mom works now and where my Dad had the majority of his treatment. Where we said good-bye. I was alone except for the sleeping baby in my arms.

I turned into a room and there they were - my Mom and my Dad. They were sitting side-by-side in those hospital issued chairs - the ones that are there for visitors in every hospital in the country - they are usually some shade of pink or teal and they inevitably are off balance.

I saw them both clearly. My Dad looked so good. Better yet, he looked healthy. And even after all this time, I can tell you exactly what he was wearing in the dream - his old worn out weekend jeans, a navy blue tshirt, and his grey hoodie sweatshirt - standard Dad weekend wear for working in the yard or doing some project around the house. He had just had a haircut. He had stubble on his face - Dad was just starting to go grey back then and you really noticed it when he didn't shave. My Mom always thought it was handsome. The hoodie was well worn and the jeans had holes in them, just like I remember. The strange part about all of this is that *I* could see my Dad but my Mom couldn't. She knew he was there, but she couldn't see him.

Now naturally, I reached out for my Dad. I mean, I hadn't seen him in ages, let alone a healthy version of him. But my hand passed right through him. I remember in my dream that he looked so sad then. He never said a word, but the sadness on his face was unmistakeable. Then he started to point to the baby.

It took me a bit, but after a minute I realized that he wanted to see the Chunk. So I leaned down and pulled the blanket away and showed my dad his grandson. Although he never spoke to me, he started nodding his head and smiling. He was so happy. In that moment in the dream, I felt amazing. I knew how much he loved me and how much he loved the baby.

I turned to my Mom and smiled. When I turned back to my Dad, he was gone.

That's about the time the baby woke me up. I can remember laying there in bed listening to the quiet house and thinking that never in my life had I experienced a dream like that - so vivid and so easy to remember, down to each little detail - those torn up jeans and that old grey hoodie. I had a little cry then, and went to rock the baby.

So tomorrow will mark another year that I look at the calendar with a feeling of profound sadness. It was July of 2004 when Mom and Dad told us that he had esophageal cancer. It was January of 2005 when we lost him. Six months of sickness and emotional hell and hope and saying goodbye. I need to keep talking about it - it helps me realize everything that I still have from him - aside from his temper and his tendancy to worry about everyone and everything. I didn't want to write another sad story like the one that happened while I was Christmas shopping this year. This isn't to make anyone feel sad, or to make anyone cry. I wanted something more than that - something that I could re-read tomorrow that would remind me that he's still with me - that he sees my beautiful kids and he knows that I'm happy. I hope he's proud of me. I know he loves me.

I miss him. And I love him so much.

I haven't blogged since....LAST YEAR!!!

Ok, I know I'm awful. I never even got back to the computer to catch up on Christmas. In a nutshell, it was pretty great. Exhausting. But great. I really thought I had gotten ahead of the ball on my wrapping but apparently that wasn't the case since Skippy and I stayed up until after two in the morning getting stuff under the tree.

This whole shopping early thing gets me in trouble. Because I start early, which is great. Then I kind of fall off the wagon (or sleigh) so to speak and by the time I get it all back together I've forgotten what I've bought and I go totally overboard. This year I spent almost an hour looking for a bag of stuff that I had hidden and then forgotten about until about 1:30 in the morning Christmas Eve night.

But all in all, Christmas Eve was a busy but quiet affair. Skippy and I took turns taking the kids out to do some last minute shopping. We helped the kids wrap some gifts. I called my grandparent's house (where I have spent almost every Christmas Eve of my 29 years) and had a mild breakdown when I heard my Mom's voice. And then we had fun sprinting into Safeway at 5:55 that evening because here in middle-of-nowhere Oregon they close the doors EARLY on Christmas Eve and don't open them again until December 26th. And at 5:30 on Christmas eve I realized we had exactly four diapers left and that Safeway was the only place still open and that they closed at six. Not to mention the produce conspiracy where some wayward Safeway employee set me up to bring home parsley instead of cilantro for Skippy's famous tacos -- because *I* know what cilantro looks like dammit.

Then we got home from dinner, gave the kids their new Christmas Eve jammies, put out cookies for Santa and carrots for reindeer, and got the little monkeys into bed. Then we wrapped. And wrapped. And wrapped some more. And I had a large glass of Bailey's Irish Cream and wrapped a little more.

Christmas Day started at 7:30. Not too bad really. I mean, I felt like it was the freaking Armaggeadon after staying up wrapping but really, they could have been up much earlier so I consider myself lucky. The girls were excited. The baby was baffled. Skippy and I were bleary-eyed but ready to do battle with the three thousand twisty ties that evil toy companies use to secure everything into their evil packages.

How is it that it takes less than one hour to UNwrap what it took me four hours TO wrap? How is that fair? Next year I'm wrapping everything in a big frickin' sheet. It'll be like one of those magician tablecloth tricks - TA DA! DONE. Anyway....

Kbear's doctor kit and Banana's Ice Pen My Little Pony were huge Santa presents. Bitty Babies from Nana were a huge hit. Movies from Mom and Dad were greatly appreciated. The Vtech game system from Aunt Carla was very exciting, although they didn't quite understand what it was while it was all still in the box. All in all, it was a fabulous Christmas for kiddos. Poor Chunk opened one present and promptly got vastly overwhelmed by all of the excitement.

In grown-up news, my Skippy did so well this year! Among other treats, I got an iPod (which I have been asking for FOREVER) and an absolutely beautiful Irish cross necklace that he had friends of ours pick up when they went to Ireland this past fall. In keeping with tradition, I also got a new bear for my collection from Big Sky Carvers - we bought our first one together about six years ago and he's given me one every year since. This year it's the "Bear Two Step" and it's significance is that they are doing the "we sold our house and moved to Oregon happy dance." I love it.

And finally once all of the paper and bows and ribbon was stuffed into big black garbage bags and Christmas breakfast was in our bellies, we ran around like crazy little elves cleaning up the house for company. Skippy made the merry Christmas out of steak and chicken tacos (A W Family tradition) and we had two couples over to share dinner with us - it was loud and hot and wonderful to have a house full of friends and the food was rockin'. Snow fell outside all afternoon and it was just a really nice day. And let me just say that I must be an easy girl to please - I think Char and Trav gave me one of my favorite Christmas presents EVER when Trav fixed my garbage disposal! LOL

Before we knew it, it was over. Hard to believe really. Our first Christmas in Oregon was done and ready to be blogged about and filed away in our memory banks.

I'll get to New Year's Eve a little later today and get some pictures up ASAP - right now I have to go - the Chunk is trying to eat his sister's puzzle pieces.