Thursday, September 29, 2011

Another birthday, come and gone.

As I close out of what proved to be the most difficult year I have faced so far, I found myself wishing I could draw out my birthday as long as possible.  If I could just stay on the sweet, happy, well-wishing day where nothing bad can happen, maybe I could avoid the possibility of starting another year like the last one.  For me, my calendar year starts on my birthday each year, I live not January to January... but September to September.  Harvest to harvest.  Fall to fall.

This year ushers in infinite possibilities, as have all the years that came before it.  This year brings with it a new feeling though, hesitation.  I have always thrown myself headfirst into the oncoming year, leaped with abandon at the newness and the fresh possibilities that lie ahead.  Not this time.  I met yesterday's sunrise with pause, reflection, hesitation.  This year could not possibly be like the last?  Could it?  Would it?

I spent the better part of the month in celebration- we started school here, we did birthday outings and adventures... by the time my actual birthday rolled around I felt obligated to be still.  Listen.  Learn.  Because if there is one thing birthdays have taught me, it is that no matter what- if I'm still breathing, they just keep coming.  Life is hard, harder, hardest... and yet- here I am.  Another year older.  Another year completed.  Another year gone.

As a mother it is easy to focus on the rapidly growing children at my feet, they age decades in moments and become new people seemingly each season that passes by.  My changes are not as apparent.  They mostly lie below the surface, deep down inside of me, places I rarely go and places others never do.  Nonetheless these changes are there... I am changing, sowing and reaping... my own harvest.  Fall to fall.

And although I was met this birthday morning with hesitation, as the day wore on the familiar warmth of possibility crept in and as the first official day of my 32nd year came to a close, I was awash with potential.  Happiness.  Peace.

So here's to another year.  I will rise up to meet it with hopeful, albeit slightly cautious, optimism.  Happy birthday to me.

Darth Vader Birthday cake made for me by my sweet niece, Megan.

Birthday Pedicure with two of my girls, Lindsey and Sally Jo.

First day of school for big brothers... soon we'll have three sweater vests running around!

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Tell me lies... sweet little lies.

I've thought a LOT about whether or not to write this post- and I'm still not sure I should... but at the risk of being cathartic- I'm going to try it and see what happens.  You may have noticed my absence around here lately, orrrrrrr- maybe not.  It feels a little presumptuous to think you'd notice or care that my little blog went silent for a few weeks- but if you did, here's why I've been gone and how I hope to come back:

A couple of months ago, Luke and I discovered we were expecting baby number four.  We were thrilled and elated and everything you are (a little freaked out too, let's be honest- four kids equals instant minivan) and we threw ourselves headfirst into the thrill of becoming parents for a fourth, wonderful time.  We started pool about whether or not we would finally have that girl, we started lists of names, we talked about getting down maternity clothes and moving crib-dwellers into big-boy-beds.

We planned out the announcement strategy- I even started writing the blog post in my head to tell all of you- and then we had our first appointment.  The baby was on the small side, the heartbeat was too slow- I needed bed rest and to wait.  (For anyone who knows me- I suck at both of these, but you know- I really tried)  This is where I wish I could say that I started praying and hoping and willing a healthy fetus to show up at the next appointment- but I knew it was lost.  Something deep down in the dark and ugly parts of me knew, just knew that it was lost.  But I waited.  And waited- seven days until we could check again. 

All of the horrible things you can imagine, all of the mean, nasty, cold and wretched things that we fear- they are nothing compared to, well, nothing.  And that's all there was.  Nothing.  A translucent yolk sac, a shriveled up mass of tissue and the nothingness where a heartbeat should be.

Nothing is often worse than the somethings I have faced.  In this case, nothing was the worst of all.

I begged my OB to lie, to tell me that I should wait another week and recheck- despite knowing that there was nothing to wait for.  Tiny lies, white lies, sweet little lies to buy me one more day of caring and nurturing the chance with my tiny, tiny potential baby.  But my OB is an honest woman- so she prepared me for what was to come... Cytotec (a medication to encourage the uterus to acknowledge what has occurred) and a miscarriage.

Not that you can be prepared.  Not that you can prepare yourself for that...

So we are through the worst of it now.  We are over the hurdle of the physical loss- now its just us and the hole left.  The tiny, tiny hole that is filled with nothing.  The hole that all the somethings in the world will never fill.

So- I am sorry for my absence, my lack of funny posts about the boys- who for the record, in case we bump into one another, have no idea any of this ever occurred and I'd like to keep it that way for now.  They were happy and funny and adorable all those thirteen weeks that we kept secrets.  Those weeks that I was gone from here- I will have to catch you up on all of that sometime...

Thanks for coming back even though I have been gone- funny, adorable, squeezable boys in a blog post coming up soon!

**If you found this because you searched for cytotec or miscarriage or anything like that- please don't hesitate to ask... I'm here and I can tell you what I know... which in reality- is not all that much ;)

Monday, March 21, 2011

Drip, drip drop... what a beautiful storm.

This post should actually be entitled- God bless the rain for giving me an excuse to stay inside therefore avoiding public humiliation at the hands of my toddler.  However... I choose to embrace the lovely rain California is being sprinkled with as a positive with an added bonus!  Look at me- all positive and fancy.  Wait- being happy doesn't make you fancy... crap.  I guess I should take the heels off.

Public humiliation- one of the best parts of having a toddler- tantrums, meltdowns, inappropriately timed repeating of accidentally learned curse words... don't think that won't happen to you- IT WILL.  Even if you don't curse- it will happen.  Ask the early morning crew at Stater Brothers grocery that got an earful of "shit... Shit... SHIIIIIIITTTTTTTT" as Oliver and I cruised down the aisles.  See if you rewind thirty seconds you would hear me mutter "shit" (quietly, almost undetectably) as I rolled over my own toe with the cart- but the following three and a half minutes of "shit" were all Oliver's.  (although I really wanted to say shit again after he started repeating it...)

Public humiliation can take many forms- but mostly it comes at the moments when I doubt my parenting- I am watching my child engage on some activity/behavior and realizing that I may not be sooooo great at this.  Take for example the "religious offensive" (as I have taken to calling it). 

Backstory- Elliott goes to preschool at a Jewish temple in town- we are not Jewish (not that it matters one way or the other)- and the school is non denominational- its just a good school in a Jewish-temple-kind of location.  We get a lot of questions about it which I find strange- preschools are renting spaces all over the place- ours is a temple. 

Anyhow- we (Oliver and I) went to pick up Elliott last week and were waiting for his class to let out.  Oliver was running around the grassy area and as he is prone to tantrums in public- I was armed with snacks and a juice box to bribe him to come with me when it was time.  As Elliott's class was ending a group of older people were leaving the church side of things from a study group meeting- headed straight for my tasmanian devil of a child who could probably knock them all down- walkers and all- in one swift motion... So I decided the time to move was NOW. 

I scooped up Oliver and he immediately went into pre-tantrum wiggle mode... I handed him the juice as a peace offering and he arched back with such force that he dropped the juice and I almost dropped him- requiring me to put him down quickly and regain my balance- but the damage was done.

He was off- headed straight for the elderly (Jewish) people- screaming, no wait- SCREAMING-


Because in toddler language- Jew = Juice.

I'll give you a minute to fully imagine this scene.

Got it?  Ok, great.

It was fantastic- and by fantastic- I mean horrifically embarrassing and lead to me wanting desperately to climb under a rock.  However there was still the potential for broken hips to I scurried after him, caught and wrangled him and even picked up the juice box he had flung- afterall- hate speech is not an excuse for littering... and sheepishly walked away.

I can assure you half of the people in the study group knew exactly what he meant- and most likely the other half didn't understand his maniacal rant anyhow- no one looked offended and on my cursory glance over the shoulder- a few of the ladies were actually smiling at himm or at least his vim & vigor. 

I just wish in that moment- I would have brought milk.  Details.  Always the details.

So- today we sit inside, while it pitter patters outside on the window- and we play quiet, non offensive indoor games, Oliver and I.  Preparing for the next storm... of the other kind.

Oliver is ready to go out in the rain- I am not.

Saturday, March 5, 2011


Well... what a week it has been. Sometimes I look at my life and I wonder- will it ever be less exciting? I hope so.

We started the week off with the death of dribble and it went steadily south from there. Fresh of the grieving process I channeled my sadness into good old fashioned hard labor- finishing another section of kitchen demo (pictures later) and storing away most of what was up in our cabinets. This was all going on while Oliver "helped" or entertained himself with power tools I wasn't using. He has a knack for getting into things- this week was no exception.

Blocks are soooo last year- the new stacking toy for babies: cat food cans.

Filling up a hamster's cage with Legos is an excellent exercise in fine motor skills.

Opening the fridge is a new, fun trick.


You're probably wondering about Biscuit. "Biscuit Pizza" is the newest edition to our family- never one to let a cage go unused we agreed to adopt an unwanted "dwarf Robo hamster"...... you can't make up a name like that. Other than the obvious plethora of "hamster of the future" references and the "I'll be back... to feed you" quotes- she has been a delight. She's adorable and fast- active enough to be entertaining and quiet. So- there's that.

"Biscuit Pizza"

So messes and demolition aside- Nico had an ear infection which kept him home from school, that kept Elliott home from school (Elliott will NOT leave Nico's side if possible) and then Oliver learning to use the word "NO" on a regular basis... we slid into the end of our week fairly unscathed. Enter the cat whom will from here on be referred to as CUJO.

I was outside waiting for my nephew on Thursday night when I mistakenly stood in the wrong place at the wrong time. My cats were outside- apparently engaged in some sort of turf war with CUJO (All caps = sufficient dramatic effect). CUJO did not like the look of me, sensed my obvious uselessness in his gang and decided I needed to be disposed of- ATTACK. Straight out of a horror movie- unprovoked cat hissing, shrieking and claws flailing. Through my jeans he was able to take some pretty good shots but was unable to "finish me" because Angus chased him off. (My hero...)

My hands must have been shaking- these are horrible pictures- but you get the idea.

Angus was more aggressive in those ten seconds than I have ever seen him be and then returned to normal, lazy mode- securing a spot on my bed for the night and hasn't left my side much since. He's loyal if nothing else. I guess I made it into his gang. I should get some striped bandanas to show my allegiance.

So- after sleeping on it and waking up to a pus filled, swollen leg- I headed to Urgent Care where I was tortured for a few hours and sent home. I received FIVE SHOTS- tetanus and the start of the Rabies series, with four more to follow. The shots were fine, run of the mill, except the final immunoglobulin which was distributed into my bite (on my shin) through repeated small pokes- and yes I cried and wailed like a complete WUSS. I had a ten and half pound baby- you'd think I could handle some shin shots.

I think now that we have really gotten going into 2011 we can relax a little and perhaps "boring" it up some. I would love a few weeks that passed by without incident- it's not too much to wish for. I am going to try and relax, I am pretty sore after yesterday- so lots of sitting and resting... the only orders I got from the doctor were to avoid people who made jokes about me being rabid- that apparently reverses the serum and I will bite uncontrollably... you've been warned.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Putting the Fun back in FUNeral... or- How To Properly Bury A Gerbil.

Well- it was bound to happen. So it did. Our sweet dribble passed away, this Wednesday the 23rd of February. Although we knew it was coming- we were not ready for how sad we would actually be. I know, I know... it's just a gerbil. But- he was our gerbil and dammit- if being an American doesn't mean you can take a mental health day for your gerbil's funeral- then what, I ask, does it mean?

Preparations are made for Gerbil's final habitat...

A "shrine" is created and decorated.

Sweet gerbil's final pose. (Note the inclusion of his "favorite things"- insisted upon by Elliott- a very compassionate four)

The "bestest" rose bush is selected and the gravedigger (aka Luke, although he prefers gravedigger now) begins his arduous job.

We thought it only fitting that the only Paul in the group be the pall bearer... see what I did there? Nothing like a death in the family to stir those creative juices.

Self Explanatory.

Casting petals for posterity.

We thought about a fancy headstone- but didn't want to set the bar too high- we have a LOT of pets.

Nico saying nice things about Dribble- consisting mostly of a list of good "rodent qualities" and his earth friendly cardboard chewing habits.

Elliott's turn- "Gerbil, I hope you like heaven, I think that you will like it because I know that gerbils really like clouds" "Oh and gerbil- when you come back to life will you live with us again?" (Looks like I need to work on my life and death explanation... or perhaps Elliott is an emerging Buddhist)

The girls- doing what girls do best... fighting. (Over who got to speak next at the service. In case you were wondering- Charlotte won. Per usual.)

Reasons why toddlers should not attend backyard funerals: Strong desire to dig up what has been safely buried in a hole below- willing to use whatever means necessary (Tonka trucks) to reopen said hole. Tantrums when digging is averted and plans are thwarted.

This is the reason I wrote this post, took these photos, spent my afternoon preparing and having a funeral- FOR A GERBIL- the sadness, all encompassing and heart wrenching, that swept my son away. My sweet baby boy, completely devastated by the loss of life, however small, and the hole left in his heart by a tiny friend.

I know this is sort of a morose note to make my blogging comeback on- but friends- I had PNEUMONIA. I can sum it up in one grammar disaster of a run-on sentence: I had a really bad cold that I did nothing about and when I was finally forced to leave the house and go to urgent care- I woke up in the E.R. to smelling salts and a lecture from some doctor about poor self care. (He so does NOT have three kids at home) Needless to say- I'm back in the saddle... and next post will be less sad/death/mourning and more fun/farts/boogers- I am raising three boys. That's what we do around here. Happy March!!!!

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Reason Number 1001....

So, for those of you who don't know my better half- let me introduce you- his name is Luke. He is a complete and total nerd- which in our case is really beneficial as he works in computers. He even wears thick black glasses and carries pens in his pocket- super, duper sexy? Um, hell yes.

So Luke is from Minnesota (pronounced Minnie-soooooo-tah) and we actually lived there for a few years a while back, in Duluth. So, being from Minnesota- he likes to experience all things Californian. All things Californian, including our above average fast food- has anyone else ever noticed that in California we have exceptional fast food- the northern midwestern part of the country just can not really compare (but that's about the only area we excel in... so don't send hate mail just yet).

My Minnesota Man in survival mode- beards are smart, its dang cold there...

Yesterday we are in the kitchen, talking about fast food (of course) and Luke is telling me how he had this wrap, a snack wrap from some fast food place- he doesn't know which one- and "this snack wrap is sooo good Lindy, its really good- it has chicken and this sauce and its all wrapped up in a SOFT SHELL TACO..."


This is where the milk shoots out my nose. My sweet Minnesotan man- those are called TORTILLAS. But, I love the effort.

Here is Luke after some good old Californication.

I guess growing up immersed in all things Spanish I have a tad more experience than he does growing up a stone's throw from Canada (eh)- but still, it was pretty funny. If you do know Luke- make sure to ask him if he's had any delicious food wrapped in "soft shell tacos" next time you see him. I'm sure he'll appreciate that... and this post. It's just another reason why I love him so. :)

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Guadalupe of the Gerbils...

So, I know you are all anxiously awaiting news about Dribble- and as if by the grace of God, he is- dare I say it- making a comeback. He is chewing and opening his little half closed eyes... its a regular Jesus on your morning toast MIRACLE. And I am taking full credit for it. Give this one to me- I really need it.

I am going to go forth as Guadalupe of the Gerbils. I am taking full credit for the healing touch that has brought sweet dribble back to us, even if only temporarily, this is my gift. Which, in all actuality, is really good- because at 31 I was starting to wonder when my "special talent" was going to show up. I mean- everyone has a destiny, right???

I need this success. I am coming out of some long, dark weeks where I was starting to question how the choices I made may have led me down a path that is, at best- very off center for me- at worst, irrevocably damaging. As a parent we are responsible for lots of choices. Some are mundane- whole wheat toast or Wonder white bread? Some are important- schools, vaccines, religion, Star Wars or Lord of the Rings?

I make choices for my kids everyday- and when times are dark it is easy to second guess a path I've started down. Its easy to assume that I have made a bad choice and its even easier (for me) to fast forward in my head to the time where I can clearly see how my choices led to my childrens unhappiness and them living in my basement at 40. (Sidenote- I don't have a basement- so my kids better be well adjusted and successful- no pressure)

But today is a new day. Today is a day that is full of promise and possibility and miraculously healed gerbils. Today is trash-truck day- which is one of the three words Oliver will actually say (taaash-dük, taaash-dük!!) and it is one day until the fantasticality that is the WEEKEND!!!

I hope your day is full of promise and wonderful-ness. And if you, by chance, have a sick gerbil- well then, I'm your gal.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Prayers for me, I mean our hand-me-down Gerbil.

We have some wonderful friends that not too long ago had the opportunity to move all the way to Sicily! They (and their three kids) packed up and left and because it would have been ridiculous to take him, left their gerbil "Spinner" with us to "watch". I really like this little guy and c'mon... how would you even notice one more animal in this madhouse? So I wrote this email last night to my bestest girl (it is her sister that is now a resident of Italy minus one gerbil) and I though I would share it with you so you too, can mourn, with me.

Spinner is dying. And honestly- I am bereft. We call him "dribble" because that is how Elliott says Gerbil and he is here, in my lap, wrapped in a towel and I am so, so sad. I can not believe I am this sad over a gerbil. This. Is. Ridiculous.

This is PMS. I am like, chocolate-peanut-butter-cupcake baking, not sleeping at night, crying intermittently for no reason, yelling at Luke (more than usual) PMS-ing. I better get my period tomorrow... because this has got to stop. I knew that dribble would die here- he was two and a half when we got him with a life expectancy of three... but I still am so sad. ohhhhhhhhhhhhh dribble. That is the sad sound of moaning in my head. And I have self inflicted Gerbil guilt- because of course- when we noticed this morning that he was less than chipper, we googled his symptoms "labored breathing, half closed eyes, lethargic". Have I mentioned lately how much I despise the internet. Because I do. Anyhow- on gerbil blogs (yes, those exist) and gerbil breeder websites... people say those symptoms are common to respiratory infections and that they are likened to pneumonia in the elderly- they just sort of happen and its what usually kills gerbils... but this is where they twist the knife- I am supposed to seek out a small animal vet and have dribble put to sleep because its inhumane of me to allow dribble to suffer... and I should expect this process to cost roughly $150. WHAT, no wait- WHAT?!? So now not only am I weeping aimlessly at Folger's commercials and my children- but I am miserably wallowing in the guilt of my inhumane gerbil treatment. I should be jailed. At the very least someone should medicate me and take away my pets.

Well- I can only assume as these things go- that dribble will be eating the great corncob in the sky by morning. I'm going to put him back in his cage so the cats stop circling me. Maybe I should blog about this... because seriously- I need to blog, if I'm going to have a blog. That is what its for and I am not so great on follow through (just stating the obvious here). Please pray for my period to come, swiftly, perhaps even tonight and relieve me of this wretched rollercoaster of emotion. Sweet nativity Jesus- bring me my monthly flow. The End. Amen.

So- there's the "dribble" story in its entirety except that two things have remarkably improved since last night when I wrote that- I got my monthly visitor, so to speak (I know- TMI, but seriously... I have kids, the lines are really blurry for me on what's acceptable idle chit chat)- so I am much more emotionally equipped to deal with my gerbil situation and that gerbil situation- well... lets just say that he is still alive. I'm not sure what to make of this as I am a novice gerbil owner... perhaps he will make a come back? Any experts- please chime in. And then- pray for me to get a life. The End. Amen.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

New Year... New You?

Hi- just popping in to say Happy New Year to all 5 of my faithful readers ;) We managed to stay up til midnight, well... technically we woke Elliott up one minute til and let him fall back to sleep seconds after. We had a fantastic night at Auntie Michelle's house and are ready and excited to resolution our way into 2011.

I changed some things on the blog this morning to look less like Christmas and more like a new year welcome... let me know if you like it. Hope you're having a wonderful January first and that you aren't regretting any of your resolutions yet!

Happiest of New Years to you!!!

Friday, December 31, 2010

The last post I will write... well, this year.

Well- did you make it through Christmas? Have you waded out of the mountains of bows and crumpled wrapping paper to find the remaining half eaten Santa cookies? We have- and it wasn't pretty ;)

We had a phenomenal Christmas- full of family and fun, oh yes, and presents. Lots. Of. Presents. Don't get me wrong- I am happy for the boys and all their stuff (provided by grandparents)- but sometimes it seems to overshadow the meaning... I mean, c'mon people- let's get back to the idea that we are celebrating the birth of Jesus by moving his birthday and usurping a Pagan holiday here. Seasons Greetings.

*Sidenote- I now feel incredibly drawn to youtubing the scene from Will Farell's Nascar movie where he thanks "Nativity Scene Baby Jesus" for his dinner. What is the name of that movie?!?

Ok- so we made it- as did you, attested to by the fact that you are here. Congrats to us! So here comes 2011!!!

I LOVE the New Year. I love the change, the possibility, the start-over mentality. I am really good at putting it in auto-pilot and the days fly by, with no focus on where or why. The New Year is a great chance to STOP, THINK and CHANGE. At least for me. I have tons of resolutions, some big (finances, self esteem stuff, eat less meat, finish kitchen renovation), some small (sleep more, eat more, oh yes, get married) Resolutions are fun to make- especially on the 31st when you don't have to stick to them. The 31st is my favorite day of the year- you are infinite possibility with NO commitment. Its like the best first date- over and over. (Back to that getting married- you see why Luke and I are here, right?)

So- as we finish out the New Year, and I send out out New Years cards and stay up until MIDNIGHT- I am relishing in the idea that this next year holds possibility, promise and the hope of even better things to come. But since its still this year, I am packing up the kids in the stroller, walking down to 7-11, cashing in my winning birthday lotto tickets and buying a gallon of milk. (Hey, my car's in the shop and I paid my December mortgage yesterday- we are rideless and broke... insert Financial Resolution in here)

Happy, Perfect, Wonderful 2011 to you!!!

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

The most ridiculous post I may ever write...

I am not even sure how to start this, the sheer magnitude of embarrassment that lies in the next thousand or so words is enough to potentially send this entry to the chopping block- but here goes...

I have occasional sadness episodes.  Less sad than say, my soul-crushing postpartum depression but more sad than say... when my last pet died.  (For the record, that was really, really sad.)  They usually coincide with (Men- avert your eyes from this sentence) pms-y sort of hormones and "that time of the month".  Often they come on when its particularly dreary out- which because of my current location, is rare.  Sometimes I can feel them coming, like watching the fog roll in over my life- sometimes they come out of nowhere.

Which brings me to last Saturday night.  We had a babysitter for a party we really wanted to attend- but the kids all got colds and we were exhausted after a few sleepless nights- so instead of gussying up for getting down- we bundled up, braved the rain and finished all our Christmas shopping.  When we got home our adorable high school aged babysitter had just settled in for a movie on the couch.  It was New Moon, of the Twilight series and one of my favorite guilty pleasures.  So I watched it with her and we followed it up with Eclipse for good measure.  Well past my bedtime I flopped into bed and fell fast asleep.

The next morning as I went about the morning coffee and bottle routine I could tell something was amiss.  I felt dark, angry- about nothing and exhausted despite my first real sleep in days.  As the morning wore on I found myself crying intermittently and snapping at Luke- always a bad sign.  Why was I so grumpy?  Where was my holiday cheer?

Fast forward three days to today and in hindsight I am going to say I had Twilight-Induced-Depression.  Don't Laugh.  Or do.  Either way, I am dead serious that after watching those movies I was really, really, achingly sad.  I cried more in the last few days then the bulk of this year and after some contemplation- here's what I've come up with.  The crux of the storyline in Twilight centers around a young girl who must make extremely important, life altering choices.  Choices that decide between two incredibly perfect men who adore her and the two worlds they represent.  Its not well written or even well acted- but the underlying theme is what gets me.  The implied "importance" of her life choices, the meaning behind them... where is that meaning in the real world?

I tend to over-think things and this is no exception I am sure- but I want to know- where are the meaningful choices that we get to participate in?  My dark, twisty days following the movie where filled with self pitying unimportance- I could live my whole life, acquire lots of nice things (I mean that is the goal here, right?) and none of it will matter at all.  I could raise wonderful children and then leave them in this cold, uncaring world- and none of my love will be able to protect them from global warming, nuclear war or worse... I'm sure there's worse. 

Its not the love (I have a wonderful partner who does not want to suck my blood or turn into a werewolf when I tick him off), its not the life or death importance of her everyday existence that I envy.  Its the pack mentality.  The idea that belonging to a community, a small group of people who matter so much to you (and you to them) that you would fight, to the death, to protect them.  I have my small family- three of them children- and a handful of good friends spread across the globe- but I do not have a pack.  I do not have a tribe that I belong to.  I do not have a central core to care about or to work with at making the world a better place.  And let's face it- making the world a better place as one tiny individual can be daunting.

Perhaps its my Native American genes rising up to the surface, or some deep seated desire to live on a commune- but I feel incredibly sad that humanity has lost that "togetherness" that unifies us and makes us stronger than the sum of our parts.  The "village" to raise out children.  The "community" to change the world.  Where I live people are unconscious to the choices they make- giant SUVs despite having the worst air quality in the nation, buying designer clothes while dropping pennies into the tip jar, or worse, the tithing bowl at church.  Why do we feel so much better in groups but live lives in utter solitude?

So- that was my weekend.  Post-Twilight induced self-pitying.  And now you have suffered through it as well.  I promise this will be a once a year occurrence... if that.  I apologize for my nonsensical ramblings and heavy, depressing blog post.  Thanks for reading- and if you have answers to the questions I asked above- feel free to share with me. 

I'm going to go beer bong some eggnog and crank up the Bing Crosby- I'll be happy by Christmas if it kills me.

Here's a present for you for reading ALL of that- Oliver's first present of the year...

Oliver's First present from Lindy Colaluca on Vimeo.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Oh... is it Christmas time?

Wow- when I said I had taken a while off- I wasn't exaggerating!  I have not done ANY holiday shopping.  At. All. 


This means that last night I was begging the tattoed high school kid at Starbucks to "Please look for some little envelope-y things...." for teacher gift cards.  I will also be the woman running through the aisles of Target later and if I don't stop to chat- don't take it personally.  And yes, that's my half dressed baby in the cart, wedged between the wreath, the stack of DVDs and the unicorn pillow pet.  (*sidenote- what does that say about us as a species that the only pillow pets left were unicorns??  Where is our love of fantasy?!?)

The boys are at school, Oliver is napping peacefully and I am praying to the "God of Amazon two-day shipping" that we will in fact, have a Merry Christmas.

Happy Friday!

BY THE WAY!!!  This deserves an entire post in itself- but since I'm playing catch up- my adorable niece and her AYSO team "The Roses of Death" had an amazing undefeated season and placed third in the championships recently,  Here are some shots of her getting her soccer on... enjoy!

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Life, etc.

Sometimes there are moments in life which, although at the time seem trivial, were really quite important in hindsight.  I had one of those moments a few weeks back- things were good here, the house was running smoothly, the kids were behaving, the laundry was done, heck... there may have even been money in our checking account.  Life was, dare I say it, good.  So- as it usually works out- we were pitched a curve ball.  I had a pain, a nagging pain that turned into a sharper pain that became annoying enough to warrant a doctor visit.  Let's just say without TMI-engaging details that I agreed with my Dr that a "quick, outpatient" surgery was feasible because... "hey- life was going well, I can handle it...



Here I am, three weeks later and just getting back to the swing of things- meaning, things here are messy, they boys are unruly, the house is in chaos, the laundry pile has become a practice spot for Everest climbing teams and heck, in all honesty- we are broke.  (Sidenote- this "broke-ish-ness" that I speak of is preventing Christmas cards this year.  Christmas cards are so last year... it's all about New Years cards people- who's with me?)

So- I am trying here to explain and excuse my absence from my blog and really, my life these last few weeks.  Did I mention that in my absence, (sidenote- I tried to use the force to dissolve my stitches so I could get out of bed faster- it didn't work) my dad was in the hospital for a few days, my niece took her undefeated AYSO season to championships and oh yeah, ITS ALMOST CHRISTMAS?!?!

Who agrees to surgery the last week of November???? (aka- who got out of cooking Thanksgiving Dinner?  See, I'm not a complete moron)  This was one of those decisions that seemed small and insignificant in the moment- quick in-and-out procedure?  Sure, I can handle it. 

I am digging out of my three week hole.  I am trying to regain my footing.  If you haven't heard from me in a few days- send in a Saint Bernard, with whiskey.  Thanks.

Here's something that happened right before I checked out-
Family Photos!!!

All of us- and yes- Oliver is picking his nose.

The nose picker...

I hope that all of you are having a wonderful holiday season so far... see you soon.


Monday, November 22, 2010

Lost and Found

There are many terrifying moments that are universal to all parents... over the years I can imagine every parent has felt the worry of a child who has disappeared from sight.  A child with a raging fever lying on a hospital bed.  A child gone hours past curfew with no call... the list is endless.

But I would imagine a relatively new fear facing modern parents is the one that Luke and I have been suffering through lately- the loss of digital information.  With the new technological world- we have very few hard copies of the hours of video and thousands of photos that catalog the growth of our three boys.  Although I am lucky enough to be snuggling in bed at night with a tech genius (seriously, that's what his resume says) I managed to foil his system and move some "Not-backed-up-very-important-files" onto an external drive and then within days- it crashed.

I tried to make peace with all of this but the pain was palpable, I am a reveler.  I love a good weepy walk down memory lane with the memories of my children guiding my path- so I was crushed to lose one of my favorite all time "moments" in time- until...................... what was lost, was found.

I won't bore you with the tech specs and amazing-osity of my man... but if you want to see his resume, just e mail me.  Its pretty impressive.

Here it is, Elliott's introduction video that I made for my sister Michelle- a little moment we shared right before packing up and leaving all of Minnesota's beauty behind.  Enjoy.


Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Elliott the Psychic...

This morning we spent a couple of hours driving a neighbor around town because their car had broken down... to the auto parts store, the gas station... you get the idea- not exactly a fun time with two small boys.  While we were waiting in the car at one of the parking lots we hung out in, Elliott says to me, "Mama, I can read Oliver's mind!".

"You can???" I replied, (this is the part where I edit out the exchange where I said- "No you can't." to which I received an EMPHATIC "I CAN Mama!").

"Yes, I, in fact, I can- because I know these things that he thinks."

"Really... what does he think?"

"He wants to go to Pottery Barns Mama."  (Now this is fantastic because I have never made my children accompany me to the Mommy Nirvana that is Pottery Barn- I figured they would hate that... and show their hatred by breaking lots of over priced glassware)

"Does he?  As in, right now- he wants to go right now?!?"  (My joy here is borderline desperation)

"No...(long pause)... he doesn't- now he's thinking that in the mirror (remember we are in the car and Elliott sits in the middle)- in the mirror, your face in the morning, the face you wear BEFORE you have your coffee, its kind of ugly and mean."

This is where I start crying quietly and then realize how funny it actually is and then giggle uncontrollably with Elliott until I look to the left to see one of Magnolia Ave's resident crazy homeless men looking at me like I am the crazy one.  I was quiet for the rest of the drive.

Oh Elliott... you say the darndest things.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Where have I been you ask????

This is absolutely the busiest time of year in our family- birthdays, holidays, school work- Luke has midterms- I could go on and on- but instead- here are some belated Halloween shots for the few of you who asked for them... We were at Miles' birthday party yesterday so I'll get busy with those too.

Quick sidenote here- Why is it that when my children are in costume they MUST pose for pictures- remember last years' "Gnome and Mushroom" Dance party? No? Well let me remind you...

Ok... back to 2010...

Fall is flying by... see you soon!