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.