Family Geode

She would be five....

2012-01-22T05:29:00.001-08:00

Five years ago today, our lives changed in ways that are impossible to describe. Now, it is possible (most of the year) to look back and recognize that we got far more from Sophie than we lost, but on this day, the only thing that we have to focus on is the little blond tornado missing from our family. Because she would have been nothing less than a tornado...this, I know!

When we found out we were expecting again in 2006, we were delighted. Our family was going to be complete with three kiddos and we eagerly awaited the new arrival. Having already given birth to two girls, it was one of the first pregnancies where I found I really, TRULY, didn't have a preference for gender. I mean, I know moms are never supposed to have a preference and I probably didn't with Erin (though I was convinced she was a boy!), but when Erin was a girl, I confess that I really wanted her to have a sister (probably because I never had one). Megan gave me that reality and I knew I could just settle back and enjoy my third pregnancy--boy or girl would fit into our family just fine. (I think my sister-in-law, who is the youngest of three with two older brothers was hoping for a boy...she said something about two older girls torturing a baby brother for a change!) Anyway, it was to be my last pregnancy. Three kids, close in age, was all anyone could handle...right?

We found out she was a girl in the last moments of her life. And at that moment, that exact second, I knew that having three girls was absolutely the perfect family for us. As soon as the fact that she was a girl became a reality, that reality was gone. And as soon as that reality was gone, it was the only reality I could have ever wanted. My three girls.

Fast forward to now. There are many families who have had losses who can say that their subsequent child may still have been born had the lost one lived. I don't know if I can say that. Would we still have had Evan? Timing-wise, it is entirely possible. He is two years younger than Sophie and clearly would have been a possibility. But would we have had him if I was running around chasing all three of his sisters? I doubt it. And yet, now, when I picture our family of "what should have been," it is three girls followed by Evan. Would that have been our reality? I have no idea and there is no way to know. The bottom line is that we are missing one and we have gained one (almost two!) since her death. As we sit here awaiting the Grand Finale for our family, I can't help but picture my life with all 5 of my kids and I can't help but talk about it as if that would have been our reality, even though I truly can't answer that question.

A good friend has started a new blog about her life as a mom of four. She wanted a space away from her blog that was almost entirely about the loss of her firstborn nearly 8 years ago. Because, she admits, it is hard to know how to answer the question, "How many kids do you have?" and she needed a space to concentrate on just being a mom to the four she got to keep. And yet, the loss that defines us so completely changed our mothering that it is hard for it to be separate, you know? Anyway, her new blog is called Four Minus One Makes Five and because she is such a clever writer and I'm so...well, NOT a clever writer, I'm borrowing the phrase from her. Because it is so true. People will always look at me as a mom of (almost!) four. After this baby is born, there I will be in the grocery store with my four kids and all most people will see of me is my four kids. And these four kids will take up all my time and all my days and all my world. And I'm so happy to be able to do that! I'm so lucky to be able to do that! And yet....

Four minus one makes five. Happy birthday to the child who rocked my world more than any other, the one so few people remember to see anymore and the one who brought us the amazing perspective we have on this life. Happy birthday to the piece of my heart that will forever and always live in the stars. Happy birthday, my little Sophia Anne, you are so dearly loved and missed.

January...again

2012-01-09T15:26:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted in a while, for no reason other than things around the holidays were busy and now as we find ourselves settling back into a routine, I have more time to think about the fact that January is here...again. It comes every year, doesn't it? Without fail, after the bustle of the holidays comes this long, cold month that seems to fight my honest attempts to keep a positive attitude. I plan fun stuff with the kids, we do plays and watch videos, we go to the library, the museum, spend weekends with friends, do whatever we can outside...and yet, at the end of the day, the exhaustion that settles into my bones just feels heavier this time of year.

I got an email from some random parenting site that is one of millions that must have my email address and the ages of my kids...I usually delete them without opening them, but on this one, the subject line definitely caught my eye. "Your child will be 5!" it said, "This is a major milestone! Look inside for ideas on how to celebrate with style!" I paused...who were they talking about?? Of course less than a millisecond later it hit me like a ton of bricks. Sophie would be turning 5 this year! We will definitely celebrate, but probably not in the way the email suggested. We will invite a bunch of friends over, have cake and ice cream, and celebrate the wonderful ways that Sophie has changed our family. We will dance and sing and be so very thankful for the gifts she has brought us and we will honor all the friends who have stood by us for the past 5 years. Later, privately, we will weep for the little girl we miss so much and who would have been such a joy to have in our family. Because, truly, even 5 years out, those tears are still there. Really.

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-24T17:53:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas to ALL...

And to all, a Good Night!

Repeat of an older post

2011-12-16T17:23:00.000-08:00

This is a repeat of a post I put up last year around this time, but people have asked me to post it again. The holidays are so so so very trying for people who have had a loss of any kind, but especially for those who are mourning the loss of a child and especially for those who would be celebrating their baby's first holiday. Think about it...have you recently walked into a mall and NOT seen a store with a cute Baby's First Christmas outfit/doll/bib/ornament/whatever? Believe me, they are EVERYWHERE this time of year and even if you can walk by and not blink, there are many who simply can't. Please be gentle with them.
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If you are having your holiday with a sister, brother, aunt, uncle, cousin, parent, grandparent, neighbor or friend who has had a loss, it is there. Can you see it? You may be standing right on it, desperately trying to ignore it. But it is there--The Elephant In The Room. Those of us who have had losses are trying very hard not to look at it as well, least you all think we are crazy. Of course, the farther away from your loss you are, the more people think you are insane if you point it out. While you are dying to shout it out, you might just keep quiet and wait until someone asks. Oh that? Those pictures over there? Yes, that is my Elephant In The Room. I had a baby girl, and she died. If you are closer to your loss, the desire to set up a shrine in the middle of the dining room table with candles and flowers and blow horns around your Elephant is almost unbearable. THIS IS MY ELEPHANT! you'll want to yell, SOMEONE PLEASE LOOK AT MY ELEPHANT!

One of the most common questions/statements I get when I give talks about infant and pregnancy loss is something along the lines of, "Oh, I knew about [The Elephant] but I didn't want to mention it. I didn't want to upset anyone." My response is always the same--it isn't upsetting...at least not in the way you might think. Let's look at this. Thanksgiving dinner is coming and you notice that there is no candle or special memory card out for your cousin's Elephant. You say, "Would you like me to light a candle in honor of your Elephant?" There are two possible answers to this. A) "Oh thank you so much for thinking of our Elephant, but we prefer to light his/her candle later, with just the two of us." or B) "OH THANK YOU FOR REMEMBERING! I really wanted to light a candle but didn't want anyone to think I was forcing my grief onto you! I'm so happy you thought of my Elephant!"

See? Neither of those possible answers is upsetting at all. But the question--the question that you asked--brought The Elephant front and center. And the grieving family will thank you for it. Because here is the secret--one of the most treasured gifts you can ever give a grieving family is the sound of their Elephant's name. They want to know that their Elephant isn't just important to them, but to many. They want to know that their Elephant was real and had an impact beyond their own walls. They want to know their Elephant is remembered. And with one question, you gave them all of that. All of it.

Holidays are a challenge for everyone, no doubt. But a grieving family is eating their turkey, doing their shopping, buying gifts and trying to spread some cheer while silently remembering their Elephant. Please remember this when you are celebrating with them. It could make all the difference. My Elephant's name is Sophia Anne....

The dream

2011-12-12T17:08:00.001-08:00

I had a dream the other night. I was sitting at the dining room table, talking to Amy. In the dream, I knew she was a ghost...that I was sitting talking to a ghost. But for some reason, this seemed totally normal to me. We talked for a long time about nothing--kind of like the weekly or even daily conversations I miss so very much. We talked about the weather, about her work (how a ghost still had a job, I have no idea, but there you have it!), about what movie we wanted to go see...just regular stuff. When she had to go, we hugged good bye and, this is the part that seems strange to me, I could totally feel her in my embrace. I felt her arms around me and I felt her body in my arms. I woke up then, at about 2:30 in the morning, and felt this tremendous, overwhelming sadness. Every fiber in my body was aching with grief and I simply began to sob. There, with the light of the nearly full moon streaming right onto me in the bed, I shook with sorrow. Chris woke up and had some trouble figuring out what was wrong. I felt stupid telling him I was sobbing over a loss that not only happened nearly a year ago but that we also had so very much time to prepare for--it wasn't like we didn't know ahead of time that she was going to die. But there it was--the cold hard truth was in that moment, I missed her so much it just exploded from me. Some dream, huh?

Thanksgiving 2011

2011-11-27T11:03:00.000-08:00

FL Pictures:

LEGOLAND! This is a new attraction in FL and the kids and I had a blast. While the minifigure above is a person in a costume, the lion below and all the other figures, etc. throughout the park are 100% Legos. Erin was very impressed. I liked the mini-cities they had and it was fun watching the girls figure out which moving things were Lego robots and whether or not they were using light sensors or direction programing, etc. Looks like Lego Club is working for them!

On our family version of Black Friday, we celebrate Buy Nothing Day...this year we went to the beach! And while we didn't hit the box stores or the malls, I will admit we did buy something: 5 ice cream cones at the end of the day.

Of course then there was actual Thanksgiving itself--lots of family, good food and (new to my kids, thanks to my brother) FOOTBALL! (I have few pictures of this as I am not really into it myself....) But I do have a good picture of a little swimmer taking a bit of a snack break!

Clearly, I have a lot to be thankful for!

Sigh...

2011-11-14T15:18:00.000-08:00

So I've spent a chunk of time over the past few weeks putting together a new Unschooling group for our area. Today was our first meeting--a potluck lunch at our house. Megan met a new little girl, Rose, who is almost exactly her age (2ish weeks younger) and they played awesomely for several hours today. Before that, I had gotten up, showered, fed everyone, done two loads of laundry, put some dishes away, packed up a backpack for Evan to take with him when a friend of our offered to take him to the playground with some other 2-3yo this morning, prepared lunch for the potluck, took advantage of the time without the toddler to play a game of blockus with Megan before everyone came, helped Erin who was typing her report into Google Translator so she could turn it in in Latin (she likes to do things like this)...in other words, it was a typical morning.

The potluck was great, the kids played and played, we got some talking time in (between being interrupted by the kids!) and everything was fine. Everyone left, I was cleaning up, playing with Evan, doing more laundry, helping the kids with their math, building things with Legos, responding to a few emails...again, typical.

Chris, who had a dinner thing tonight, came home for one hour (one very short hour) so I could take a quick break before doing dinner and bedtime (my "break" was, of course, trying to get a sitter, answering phones and responding to one more email before managing to lie down quietly for 15 minutes). In that hour, he played a game of hide-and-go-seek with the kids. As he was leaving again, Megan burst into tears because she really, really didn't want Daddy to leave again. Why?? Because "Mommy is boring...."

Thanks, kid!

Heartbroken for her

2011-11-11T11:57:00.000-08:00

So there is this woman who was in my prenatal yoga class. I think I've only seen her a few times (maybe twice) because I alternate between a Thursday evening class and a Saturday AM class, due to my constantly messed up schedule. Anyway, because of whatever reasons, I've only seen her a few times and spoken with her even less frequently than that.

Last week, her baby girl was born 8 weeks early...with a tumor on her liver...and little hope...she died less than 24 hours later. And now this mom, who I really don't know at all, is all I can think about.

She is home now, surrounded by family and friends as she makes her first, tentative steps on this path of grief that will last the rest of her life. Her milk is pouring forth for nobody, her stomach that last week was round and full of life is empty and sagging with nothing to show for it. Her friends are asking each other, "What can we do to help??" and there is no good answer. In my minds eye, I can see this woman curled up in fetal position on her floor or bed, sobbing in a way that few people can understand. Sobbing to the point of literally breaking in half...at least that is what it feels like. I can picture all of this and I just wish there was something, anything, I could do to ease her pain. But it is her pain, and her family's pain, and she will carry it because she has no other option.

In a few weeks, I will call her up. I will tell her who I am and what I do and how I can help. I will give her resources and introduce her to others on this same path and I will assure her she is not alone. None of that will help, obviously, as none of it will bring back her little girl. None of it. And as I sit here typing, pushed back from the computer a bit to accommodate my own bulging belly, I am reminded of that dark hole I was in just 4.5 years ago and how long and hard my husband and I had to work to claw ourselves back into the light. We are here now, in the light of day, breathing in and out, raising our living children, enjoying the energy of living and working to trust that our new baby will be okay. Usually...but right now, today, I'm feeling heartbroken for the woman 4.5 years behind me on this path. Nothing is worse than the dark hole that is back there...nothing.

Yes, you can.

2011-11-02T15:44:00.000-07:00

I find it amusing when people tell me, "I would love to homeschool, but I just couldn't! We would just fight all the time!" or "I could never make her do the work!" or something along those lines. I should also say I find it amusing how often I hear this comment. I never know what to say. Because the truth is there are days, plenty of days, when I think that very same thing. Really. But all the other days make up for it. All the other days of biking and skiing and gardening and hanging out with friends, going on trips, catching frogs, kayaking, playing in the mud, launching rockets...all these things I get to do with my kids because I homeschool. I truthfully can't imagine a time when I would have to squeeze in a trip to Fort Knox between schools and camps and life.

I was thinking about this today when I got this quote from the unschooling blog I subscribe to: When you know how you want to be, the next step is to make conscious decisions in a "getting warm" or "getting cold" kind of way. Not all steps will be forward, but if the majority of steps are in your chosen direction, there y'go!

The people who tell me they "wish" they could homeschool but "just can't" are missing out on that first step. The one where you look at how you want to be and just start walking in that direction. Give it a shot, make one change today and see where it gets you. I often tell parents who come to me for help that if you have to fight with your kids, it isn't worth it. Whatever point you are trying to get across is being lost in the struggle. Power struggles end when the one with the power gives up the struggle...and know what? I'm not always good at this. Just the other day, I got into a power struggle with Erin over something stupid. When did it end? When I gave up the power and took a deep breath. Think you can't "make" your child do work? Take a deep breath. Go for a bike ride instead. Try tomorrow or the next day or the next month or not at all...take a step towards being the parent you want to be. Get a little warmer each time. Yes, there will absolutely be times when you "get colder" on your journey. You will *gasp* yell at your kids and get annoyed by their fighting and the messy house and the often endless questions/comments/judgements from friends and family. But those times will begin to get few and far between and the resulting feelings of contentment and joy will permeate most of what you do together. It is pretty awesome to feel such peace with your kids and such joy from daily living.

We've been homeschooling for three years now so we are by no means experts at this, but we are experienced enough that newcomers ask us questions. My answer is always the same--I wouldn't trade it for anything, I tell them, and I can't give it up now, because I'm still just beginning the journey!

Deep Breath

2011-10-27T06:38:00.001-07:00

I guess it has been a while since I have posted. We are kinda in the middle of LIFE right now. I'm homeschooling the kids, getting more and more pregnant, and (what was that other thing??) oh yeah, packing up EVERYTHING and moving. Argh.

Things are moving forward and we are all trying to go with the flow--the emotions of moving (excitement and sadness), the problems of living in a very cluttered, half-packed house where you can't find ANYTHING, while still trying to maintain some kind of rhythm to our days.

The baby is doing fine--I had an ultrasound yesterday that showed a very healthy little one. Still, for some reason, I couldn't shake the guilt (was it guilt??) that I woke up with the other night. See, I woke in the middle of the night having a bit of a panic attack. I couldn't figure out why I was so happy and at peace with this pregnancy. Babies die, don't you know?? What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks was wrong with me that I was floating along in this blissful ignorance carrying this baby when all along, I knew, truly knew, that there is a chance this baby could not make it! How could that be? What was going on?? Should I be panicking? (Obviously not, which I recognized in the light of the morning, but in the middle of the night, it was harder to stop!) I thought of all the things that could still go wrong. I thought of all the babies I know who were born at 25 or 26 weeks and didn't make it. I thought of the moms I know whose babies died full-term of cord accidents. I thought of Sophie and how my body just shut down and she was such a tragic result of that. And as I laid there in the middle of the night with tears streaming down my cheeks, the baby started to somersault and kick and wiggle. "I'm alive!" s/he seemed to be saying, "don't count me out! Right here and right now, I'm fine!" I drifted back to a fitful sleep, waking tired and cranky the next morning. It has been about a week now since that happened, and I'm doing fine again. When those thoughts hit me, I (try to) just say, "Thank you, brain, for that idea, and now I'm going to put it aside and think of something else." Because yes, there is a possibility this baby could die. There is a possibility I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. I refuse to parent out of fear and I cannot make choices for this baby out of fear. Deep breath....

Quote of the day...

2011-10-13T10:42:00.000-07:00

Today we were deciding what to do for our volcano unit. Megan has been interested in learning about volcanoes lately, so we decided we'd do a unit on them. The girls want to make an educational video for some friends of ours, so we immediately began to break up the parts. Erin will be doing a "lecture" on plate tectonics and where volcanoes are found. Megan will be talking about the different kinds of volcanoes and how they erupt. Erin goes into the office to write out her part. A while later, she comes back with a page of notes, several diagrams and a description of what her character will do on the video. "Oh, there is one little thing, Mom, just for the action part of the video...is there a safe way to set me on fire??"

Now, if I was a radical unschooler, truly supporting all of my child's dreams and aspirations to the ends of the Earth, I would have told her we could research that. Somehow, though, my mothering instinct kicked in. "No...probably not," I said. (For the record, we are going to see how to make it LOOK like she is on fire with some special effects--that's as far as I'm willing to go on this one!)

Prenatal Yoga

2011-09-24T12:12:00.001-07:00

I took a prenatal yoga class when I was pregnant with Evan. I did pretty well, too, until some point in my third trimester. We were all sitting in a well supported seated mountain pose and the teacher began to talk us through a guided meditation. During that, she asked us to bring a circle of light from our hearts and surround our babies with it. Then she said to take this heart connection and send our babies an intention, to talk to them and send them warm feelings of love and connectedness. How horrible is it that I couldn't do it?? I maintained my composure through the end of class, but that was about it. I spent the next chunk of my life sitting in the car in the parking lot, sobbing and rubbing my well-rounded belly, thinking about this little being growing in me that I was too scared to even "wrap in a circle of light" for fear that I might grow too attached and potentially crushed again. I never dared, not even for a second, to believe (truly believe) that he would make it into this world alive. I did not go back to that class. I made up something about schedule conflicts and never looked back. I never told the teacher why, either.

Fast forward to today. I went to my first prenatal yoga class for this pregnancy. Now, aside from the fact that it made me feel very old (everyone else there was on their first baby while I'm on my 5th!), it felt very different from the previous class. It is in the same location with the same teacher, but I am in a completely different place. When we were doing the meditation at the end and she again asked us to wrap our babies in the light from our hearts, I did so. And know what I found? Joy! I can't believe we are so fortunate to have this little one entering our lives and I feel happy to be in a place that I can say that I really, truly believe that this baby will be born alive. This baby will grace our family in a few short months and either give Evan a brother to destroy the house with or give me one more chance to hold a baby girl in my arms. Both possibilities bring me so much excitement that I am actually looking forward to this winter. It has been a long time since I have felt that joy and excitement and I welcome it back into my life. I can't wait to meet you, Little One!

We Did It!

2011-09-21T14:50:00.001-07:00

The kids and I have been studying the book My Side of the Mountain. It is a a fictional account of a 12-year-old boy who runs away to the mountains and survives quite well. The girls have loved the book and are making a lapbook in addition to doing some hunting for edible plants, building shelters outside, etc. One piece of the survival puzzle that has eluded us, however, was the flint and steel fire. We simply haven't been able to get it started. We have lots and lots and lots of sparks, but we haven't been able to get anything to flame, until TODAY! (For the record, if you are going to use cattail fluff as tinder, be prepared for it to flame very HOT, very FAST!)

(Don't worry, we managed to get the magnifying glass out before it melted. Erin had been trying to use that to start the fire...lots of smoke, but no flame. We tried!)

Now we can move on to our next unit without regret. Though, as we discussed today, if it were a wet, soggy day, the odds of us getting fire started with flint and steel in the wilderness are slim to none. Oh well....

The Conversation

2011-09-07T12:18:00.001-07:00

My mother-in-law keeps a folder of funny things my kids say. When Erin was two, we had hordes of the one-liners she came up with. With Megan, we had fewer, simply because we forgot to write them down. Now with Evan, I hardly have time to register what he said, much less record it for posterity. However, this morning as the girls were off at a watercolor class and I had Evan in the car by myself, we had the following conversation (I'm writing it down for you, Pam!):

Evan (after we drove over a bridge being repaired) "Was there an excavator?"
"No, I didn't see an excavator."
"Oh. What were the other tools there?"
"I don't know, Sweetie, I didn't look hard and I don't know the names of a lot of construction tools."
"Oh, that is sad."
"It is sad that I don't know the names?"
"Yes, Mommy, that is just sad."
(I paused here, letting it soak in that my 2-year-old is disappointed in me and my knowledge of construction vehicles.)
There comes a giggle from the back...I look in the mirror and see a smiling boy who says, "Don't worry, Mommy, I'm just trying to push your buttons on!"

Thanks, kid.

First Day of Not School

2011-09-07T11:50:00.000-07:00

Every year it happens...the big yellow school bus comes down my street and swallows up most of the kids in the neighborhood. Not mine, though...not mine. And, like all homeschooling moms I know, there are definitely mixed feelings about this! As I watched the other moms standing at the end of their driveways waving goodbye to their kids, a part of me is so very jealous of their chance to go back inside, sit with a cup of coffee, read the paper...perhaps even take an uninterrupted shower! Oh, it all sounds so wonderfully peaceful to me! (I recognize I'm totally romanticizing it--these moms also have houses to clean, meals to prepare, errands to run and a few still have younger kids at home, so I know I'm living in dreamland to think they quietly go back to their house and live in peace until the bus comes back!)

At any rate, like many moms out and about during the summer, I've been asked in the past few weeks about whether or not I'm looking forward to the kids being back in school. I read the funnies and get a giggle out of the comic-strip stay-at-home moms who sit in their lawn chairs with a cold drink as the school bus pulls out. But our family isn't like that. We have chosen a different path. I truly treasure the time I have with my kids and I don't want to give it up if I don't have to. Yes, my kids fight, they whine, they create a mess like you wouldn't believe...they do all those things! But I love it--I truly do (though not necessarily at 5:30pm when dinner isn't ready and Daddy isn't home--I am human, after all!) And so we enter another school year alone on our street but truly happy in our hearts as we do what is right for our kids and our family. Yes, there will be days when I wish they would get on that bus, I won't deny it! There will be times I'll call my my husband and beg him to come home NOW. There will be times that kids won't want to do school and times I don't want to teach them anything. But there will be so many more times that they will be proud of what they have done and excited about a project. There will be new friends and swimming lessons and karate classes. There will be adventures to Boston and trips to the ocean and perhaps even a ski trip or two...oh yeah, and there will be a new sibling to learn about and take care of. Our year will be wonderful! So good bye, big yellow school bus, I'm sorry, but once again, you simply can't have my kids. I'm not done with them yet!

Phone Call

2011-09-04T06:54:00.000-07:00

Normally, today, I'd have a very important phone call to make to wish my best friend a Happy Birthday. I'd call her up, we'd chat, she'd tell me that she had lunch with her mom or maybe went shopping. She never made a big deal out of her birthday (as most of us stop doing when we get older!), but if the timing worked out, maybe I'd be the one having lunch with her--we'd meet up at whatever restaurant struck our fancy that day and talk about absolutely nothing. In the days that she lived up here, I'd probably show up at her apartment with a cake or something and we'd eat ice cream together--no big deal, but something to honor the day. Once, in college, because we had moved into our dorms on her birthday weekend and then started classes the next day, her birthday flew by completely unrecognized...so I threw her a surprise party in October. She was definitely surprised!

Instead, I find myself sitting here having just finished a wonderful walk/run with my oldest kiddo (discussing all the mushrooms we found in the woods--her current interest). In a little while, we will head out to visit my in-laws because tomorrow is my FIL's birthday. We'll have a picnic and laugh and eat cupcakes. In short, I'm sure I'll have a perfectly nice day. But it certainly won't be the day I wish it could be...because one phone call will be missing. One very important phone call.

Happy Birthday, Amy.

Weaning

2011-09-02T16:22:00.000-07:00

Evan is weaning. Now, this should be a pretty obvious statement, given that the child is two-and-a-half and many people are shocked that he's still nursing at all. But nursing has been such a huge part of my relationship with each of my children that I feel sad to see it end, even when it is clear that it is time and he is outgrowing the need and all that. You see, Evan is the first comfort-nurser I have ever had wean and it is with a tear in my eye that I watch the end of this phase of our relationship.

Erin was never a comfort nurser. She nursed for food...period. When she was an infant, she nursed every 2-3 hours during the day and every 6-8 hours at night. As a toddler, I was her morning nourishment (followed by "real" breakfast), her mid afternoon snack and her bedtime fill-up. If she bumped her head or some other toddler emergency that required comfort, she never asked to nurse, she simply curled up with her blankie or with a book in our laps. When I was pregnant with her sister, she weaned fairly quickly as my milk supply decreased and by the time I only had colostrum in days before and just after her sister's birth, she literally looked at me and said, "Mama no milk, Erin want yogurt," and walked away. That was it. She never asked again and never accepted if I offered.

Megan was a HUGE comfort nurser. She nursed every 20-30 minutes through most of the first year of her life (in between bouts of crying!). As a toddler, practically every jolt brought her to my lap with requests for "ishy" (that was her word for it!). Unfortunately for Megan, weaning was not a fun time for her. Just shy of her second birthday, I nursed her to sleep before calling my friend Amy to come babysit for us. I was having pretty severe abdominal pains, you see, and because I was pregnant, I needed to go to the ER and get help. Amy brought me to the ER and I spent the next several days on pretty heavy medication, the following week in ICU and by the time I was home after losing Sophie, Megan was weaned. I tried to get her back when my milk came in, but she wasn't interested. I was crushed. Completely crushed.

So here I am with my third nursling and my second comfort-nurser. Before he turned two, we nursed all the time--"I want mama!" he would demand. For some reason, when he turned two, he stopped needing it so much. I switched to a "don't offer, don't refuse" type policy to try to ease into the weaning process. When I found we were pregnant again, one of the symptoms was that Evan just didn't seem to want to nurse anymore. More and more often he was permitting Chris to put him to bed. He was taking naps in the car or not at all, skipping that nursing session. In the past month or so we have come to a point where he hardly asks at all. With the exception of today, he hasn't asked to nurse in over a week (maybe two?).

Today was different. He was SO tired and in desperate need of a real nap. I have been watching two other children this week and all the activity has really made it hard for him to keep up. He was in full melt-down mode on the floor when I picked him up and hugged him. He looked at me with tears running down his face. "I want mama," he said quietly into my shoulder. I kicked the other children out of the house, told them I needed 15 minutes of quiet, and curled up in the rocking chair with Evan. He latched on gladly and when I asked him, "Is there any mama in there?" he shook his head no, but continued to nurse contentedly. He fell asleep within minutes and I just rocked him, admiring the dirt on his cheeks, the marker on his face, the bits of chocolate on his shirt. I looked at his hands curled into his blankie and his very dirty toes sticking out from under it. He looks so much bigger than he used to when he was nursing every day, so much older. I know our nursing relationship is almost over. I know that, now, every time I pick him up to nurse him could be the last time. Maybe it was today. And while a part of me will lavish the next few months of complete freedom before another nursling arrives, a part of me is sad to see these last remnants of my baby boy fade into memory.

So we move forward into the next chapter of raising this amazing little man who climbs trees, crashes cars and charms the hearts of all who meet him. Who knows what it will bring, but I'm so excited to be along for the ride!

The Y Chromosome

2011-08-10T04:36:00.001-07:00

We are some of those people who never find out if it is a boy or a girl before birth. We like the surprise. When I was pregnant with Evan, however, I knew instinctively that he was a boy. I don't know if I "knew" because I really knew or if I "knew" because I so desperately needed him to be a boy (and therefore have the whole pregnancy so completely different from my pregnancy with Sophie that nothing could go wrong). Whichever it was, I knew he was a boy before he was born. We have had almost two and a half glorious years of watching our wonderful little man learn and grow...and now the Y chromosome seems to be kicking in. Here was our day yesterday--and the first is just a story because I didn't have a camera.

Yesterday I was doing laundry at the house we just bought (our washing machine is dead and the tenants haven't moved in there yet, so it works well). The kids were playing in the back yard, really enjoying finding their little secret spots. Megan yells, "Mom...Evan is climbing a tree!" I didn't really think much of it as he has never gotten very high. Then Erin yells, "Mom...I think he needs help getting down." As I began to walk down the hill, Erin yells, "MOM! Evan needs help!" I ran down there to find my toddler about 20 feet up in the air, sitting on a branch, hugging the trunk and looking very pleased with himself. I tried to climb up to him, but the branches of this tree were only about a 1-2 inch diameter and couldn't hold me. Calmly, I asked him to stay where he was and asked Erin to run next door to our good friend's house and see if she could come over with a ladder and her phone (in case I needed to call 911). She comes back with a ladder and as we put the ladder up against the tree (challenging with all the branches) Evan begins to climb higher! He was saying, "NO! I no want to come down! No! No! No!" At this point, I'm getting nervous. Laura begins to climb the ladder (she's much taller than me so has a better reach) and is talking to Evan. "Hey Evan! Can you put your foot on this branch?" Eager to show off his skills, Evan says, "Of course!" and does it. Good job, Laura! So, long story short, Laura gets him down and now we know which trees need their lower branches trimmed so only older kids can get up them.

You would think we were done for the day, but you'd be wrong. Here is what happens when a toddler climbs into an idling car as your husband is fixing the exhaust system:

Chris and I were there in about a millisecond, and as I pulled my completely unharmed toddler out of the car he was a bit shaky as he said (with almost disbelief in his voice), "Mama...I crashed the car!" Um...yeah, Little Man, you did.

Evan fell asleep very early last night, apparently exhausted from his day. As I watched him snooze in his fire engine bed, no doubt dreaming about tomorrow's adventures, I was simply thankful he still had all his limbs.

*Before you all go calling DHHS, know that everyone is totally fine and safe and I've talked to other moms of boys and not one is surprised at all by these antics. Today, Evan will be on a leash!

This summer...

2011-08-02T18:16:00.000-07:00

I almost dialed her phone number the other day. I don't know why. Obviously her answering machine isn't there anymore, but I just wanted to pretend to hear her voice. It has been nearly 6 months since Amy passed, and for six months, I haven't called her, gotten an email from her, met her for lunch, had her babysit, or just gone down there to hang out. And I simply can't believe what a change it is for me, for our family. I mean, it isn't like I saw her so often that it is a huge shift in my daily life, but yet her presence is just missing. Gone. It is so hard to describe that shift.

I've had some tough moments where I just want to cry and scream at the universe--moments where I have sat down at the keyboard with tears in my eyes and written out a long and very blabbery email to another friend from college. There are moments, I tell her, when I just can't believe how utterly alone I feel without Amy. I mean, I am surrounded by family and good friends, but without being able to call her, without being able to just hear her voice, the voice that has been there without fail for nearly 20 years...well, it is a challenge. And this other friend always writes back full of empathy and with all the caring of someone who knew from the beginning that my relationship with Amy was special...and yet, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, she or anyone else can do.

So while I haven't been much of a blogger lately, because we have been buying a house, dealing with the first trimester-yuckies, having summer fun and basically being really busy, this is what has been on my mind. How much I can still hear her voice in my head, how much I would give to go sit in her apartment again, how much I want to do another day in Boston with her, how much I just want to call her up and hear her say, "Hey!" the way she always did. Summer of 2011...my first summer without Amy. I miss her.

Part 2 is here....

2011-07-12T19:38:00.000-07:00

Unless you live under a rock, you probably know that the last Harry Potter movie comes out this week. Normally, I'm super, super excited about these things (what can I say?? I love Harry Potter!) but this one is different. You see, the other person in my life with a Harry Potter obsession to rival my own, was Amy. She and I raced each other through the books (she always won!) and then spent hours discussing the possibilities. With each book, we would reread the previous ones, in order, just to make sure we didn't miss anything. We discussed character development, wand lore, what kind of wand we thought would choose us, love affairs among the characters, how I wanted a house elf and we joked about how she would make a great house elf (she LOVED cleaning other people's houses...truly!)...the list goes on. We both just really enjoyed a good book, and Harry Potter gave us that. So of course we always saw the movies together. Even when she moved away, we would meet in Waterville (the halfway point) and spend the afternoon having lunch and going to see the movie. The last movie, although I saw it first with my husband, Amy and I saw together at the movie theater not far from her hospice house. After we saw it, I immediately wrote to the producers to see if we could be granted one last wish--to see a sneak peak of the last part so that Amy and I could be together and see it before she died. They never wrote back.

So here it is...the movie that last November seemed so far away...and I have to go see it without Amy. A good friend has already offered to go with me and I may take her up on it. Why? Because she asked me by saying, "I know this is a loaded question, but would you like to go see the last Harry Potter film with me?" Here is someone who already knew the hugely conflicting emotions I have about going to see this movie and she was fully acknowledging them upfront. I felt truly comforted by not having to explain my hesitation to her. She already knew. (Incidentally, this person is the mom of the little girl, Sophie, to whom I did not sing Happy Birthday a few weeks ago. She was understanding then, too!)

Anyway, I'll probably go at some point this weekend...maybe alone, maybe with a friend. Because Amy would never, ever expect other people to stop living their life just because she isn't here to live with them. So I'll get the super big popcorn, a large root beer and a pack of tissues, because I'll probably cry during the movie. And not because of the character development, either.

Surprise!

2011-07-06T16:24:00.000-07:00

In the months (and, yes, admittedly *years*) after Sophie died, I was so acutely and painfully aware of other people's pregnancies. After Evan was born, it got better, yes, but not completely. Why? Because no matter what I had, we were missing something--someone--in our family. We were a family with four children, but not. So when people I knew became pregnant, I would flinch, just a bit, because a part of me just wanted that so much...even though I didn't necessarily really want it, you know? It doesn't make sense, but there you have it. My point is that I am so, so, so very aware of what being pregnant (or not) can do to friendships, especially those formed through the bonds of loss. Nobody who has had a loss ever begrudges the pregnancy or healthy baby of anyone else--nobody. It isn't a grudge so much as a pang of jealousy--sometimes a BIG PANG, depending on when your loss was. And when I am the one announcing something, I am so hugely saddened by the fact that my happiness could possibly cause someone else pain. Because I have been in those shoes. I have walked that road. It hurts so much and I can't stand the fact that I might be putting someone else through that.

AND, at the same time I am feeling apprehensive and saddened by what this news might do to others, I am feeling so much joy. After Evan was born, we gave away most of the baby gear, got rid of clothes as he out grew them and basically closed-up shop. We were done...or so we thought. And now, after a few weeks of wondering if things were okay, we found out today that they are 100% perfect!

And so, we embark on this journey yet again. There is fear, yes, but I don't feel the same gut-wrenching anxiety I had when I was pregnant with Evan. I have too much faith in this baby now, and (while it may sound crazy) I believe Amy had a hand in bringing this little surprise bean down to us. I will forever be grateful to her for this last opportunity to mother a little miracle.

Happy 4th!

2011-07-04T06:40:00.001-07:00

Thirteen years ago today, I married my best friend. How lucky am I?

The Clamp

2011-06-26T08:31:00.001-07:00

Imagine going through life with a clamp on your heart--squeezing, slowly, tightly, thoroughly. Imagine waking up and being able to feel your heavy heart trying to beat but struggling because of the clamp--but yet, still there, trying desperately to get you through the day. Imagine your arms hooked up to an IV of fluid that creates a constant ache in your muscles. A constant, physical hurt that is just there day after day after day. Imagine your same body size with 100--no, 1,000--extra pounds to carry through the day. Breathing is labored from the weight, your arms ache from that fluid, your heart is working overtime, just to get you through the day. Are you picturing this?

Now imagine someone walked by and saw you hooked up to all of this, struggling to maintain composure with your children, crying while you do your laundry, completely unable to explain it all to your loving husband...and they said, "Oh, you'll be okay. Everything happens for a reason. It was meant to be."

Wouldn't you want to smack them? Just a little???

Please--don't ever say that to a Babylost Mama--especially as due dates, birthdays, or other anniversaries are coming up. They are struggling. Hard. Instead, maybe say, "I know [this date] is coming and I can't imagine what you are feeling. How can I help?" Or maybe invite her living children over so she can have a few hours of peace. Maybe find a way for her and her husband to have a date. These are all helpful--really, really, really helpful. But don't, for goodness sake, say it was meant to be. The death of her baby wasn't meant to be--it sucks. Quite simply, it SUCKS. Thank you for listening to my little PSA.

Happy Birthday Dear Sophie...

2011-06-12T15:18:00.001-07:00

I've become accustomed to the fact that there are three Sophies in our homeschool world. One of them has become very good friends with Megan, a friendship that I'm sure will only grow stronger in the coming months as we begin our homeschooling journey with Megan. I will never forget my time early last year getting to know this family. Their older child's name is [W] and their youngest child's name is [K]--names that I used all the time when I wanted to talk to them. But Sophie? yeah...that one I just couldn't bring myself to say. I would call her "sweetie" or "kiddo" when I needed to refer to her or talk to her directly. After a few meetings like this, her mother (fairly) assumed that I simply didn't remember Sophie's name, so she told me, "This one's name is Sophie." (Yeah, I knew that.) I explained my situation and why I had a hard time and she was so unbelievably understanding and wonderful about it. She let me take my time, get to know her kids and waited until I truly felt okay calling this beautiful little girl by her name--which I do easily now, with no problems at all.

Today we went to a birthday party for Sophie. (Though I should note that even as close as we have become in the past year, I could not bring myself to write down, "Sophie's Birthday" on my calendar. I wrote, "party @ [M family]'s residence.") I hadn't really thought much about what would happen at the party...until it did. We all gathered in the living room and began to sing, "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Sophie, happy birthday to you!" Right when I got to the part about "happy birthday dear Sophie..." I began to tear up. I became so suddenly aware of the fact that I will never, truly, get to sing that song to my little girl and how unbelievably unfair that fact is. Wiping my eyes on Megan's dress as she sat cuddled in my lap, I couldn't finish the song. Here it is, more than 4 years after our loss and I still tear up over this seemingly easy, unrelated incident. Of course there are other little girls in the world named Sophie and of course they have birthdays. Duh. But know what? It might be a while until I can sing Happy Birthday to any of them. My apologies to all the Sophies in the world.

Don't Say That

2011-05-21T13:49:00.000-07:00

So I'm out at dinner the other night and a parent says to me, "We sent our kids to regular school for the socialization." And now I'm thinking several things...first, why on Earth would you say that to a homeschooler?? Why would you make such an incredibly loaded statement like that to someone you KNOW has decided to keep their kids home? Second, I'm thinking of all the reasons I don't want peers socializing my children. Third, I'm thinking that if that is really the reason you sent your kids to school, it isn't a very good reason. Finally, of course, I'm thinking of all the things I could say but won't because I'm too nice a person.

Such as a sarcastic, "Yeah...socialization is good, but Chris and I prefer to raise our kids in a box with no interaction." Or perhaps a kind, "Oh, are your children puppies? I didn't know!"

I won't go into all the complex reasons why socialization shouldn't happen at school (good place to practice it, lousy place to learn it) but please know that there isn't a homeschooling parent in the world who hasn't heard this a million times and hates it. And there isn't a homeschooling parent in the world who hasn't researched this substantially and made a well-informed choice that works for their family. We aren't judging you for your choice, so please give us the same courtesy.

Overall, Chris was very impressed with my restraint. Let me know what you would have said....

Home Alone

2011-05-17T18:18:00.000-07:00

So yesterday I had to leave Erin home alone for the very first time in her life. Here's the story:

Yesterday morning, Erin, Evan and I went looking for frog eggs. On the way, we stopped at the really tiny post office about 1.2 miles from our house to mail a package to my mom. The package was going to cost $15 to mail, so I went to pay with a credit card. The internet was down so the woman at the counter couldn't swipe my card and I didn't have the cash to cover it. So she put a sticky note on my package with my phone number and said she would call me when the internet was back up and I could go back and it would be all set.

Erin and Evan and I went out on our frog hunt...found nothing. (Not that I can blame the frogs, it was 44-deg and raining. I'd still be buried under leaves too, if I could be!) Anyway, then we went home and as I was getting lunch, Evan begins to fall asleep on the living room floor. Because he has a fairly small window of opportunity for a nap, I quickly got him into bed. When I came out from nursing him, I noticed the answering machine light was flashing and, you guessed it, I had to go back to the post office to mail that box.

I looked at Erin. "I've got to go mail this box, Sweetie, will you be okay?"
She hesitated..."No, I think I want to go with you."
"I can't take you because Evan is asleep and I need you to stay here with him. I'll be 10 minutes, tops."
"Okay, I'm fine. Wait. What do I do if the house catches on fire?"
"Get your brother and get out."
"That's it?"
"Get your brother and get out. Go to [neighbor's house] and call 911. Get your brother and get out."
"Got it. Get my brother, get blankie and get out."
"No...get your brother and get out!"
"Okay, okay!"
"I'll be 10 minutes."

I left, thinking about how my baby girl was growing up. I got to the PO, mailed the box and came out to see that my tire was absolutely flat. Not hey I could still drive a little flat, but oh look, I'm driving on the rim flat. Thinking fast, I brought the car 100ft to a friend's house (so it wasn't on the side of the road) and went to ask her for a ride home. I couldn't find her, so I got my cell phone thinking I would call Chris, have him bike to get the car while I walked home. My phone, however, was nearly out of battery. SOOOOO...I used the last bit of battery to call Erin and tell her I was going to be late and not to panic, and I started hoofing it home. I went as fast as I could, but with all of it, (the getting there, the mailing, the moving the car, the trying to find my friend, the phone call...) I was gone about 30 or 35 minutes.

When I got home, I burst in the door sweaty and out of breath from my speed walk home and say, "I'm hooommmmeee" (you know in that calling, singing voice). I walked over to her saying I was sorry and was she worried and she looked up from her book and said, "What? Were you gone?"

Um...yeah.

Willows

2011-05-15T08:03:00.000-07:00

Today is another important birthday that I cannot let pass unmentioned. Willows, who died shortly after he was born, would be four years old today and he is so very sadly missed.

Just before Sophie's first birthday, I was running the monthly meeting for the support group I had started, and this woman walks in. She was about my age and, when she began to share her story, I realized how much we had in common. We talked a bit after the meeting and it turned out she lived only a few miles down the road from me. Within the month we were hanging out fairly regularly and it didn't take long for us to become very close friends. Her husband and my husband get along famously and her second child, a baby girl, is only two weeks younger than Evan. Our families love playing together, going on adventures together, and generally hanging out together.

Today, I got an email about how she was feeling with this being his birthday...and do you know what? She is sad, yes, that she doesn't hold her son in her arms today. She is missing him and what he would have been, of course. But what worries her the most is this: She writes, people are still remembering, but I'm afraid someday they won't and that's what gives me pangs of pain. And I want to shout out to the world, YES!!! THAT IS IT! Babylost parents learn to hold their pain close and carefully...with the passage of time. We all do it. But our biggest fear is that everyone else will forget. It happens slowly, over time. Year one, 10 people call and a bunch send cards. Year two, 5 call and three send a card. Year three, 5 cards...maybe. Year four? Yeah.... You get the idea. I threw a birthday party for Sophie this year--we invited as many friends as we could and had a big dinner and cake and ice cream. Why? Just because of this very fear. I can handle the idea that my baby died. I can handle the fact that she will never ride a bike or tease her baby brother. I can even handle (most days) the painful hole in our family that will never be filled. What I can't handle is that other people will forget her or forget what she is for our family. That part hurts more than all the rest. So yes, my dear, dear friend, I know exactly what you mean. And I'm here to tell you that whatever happens, wherever life takes us, I will always, always, remember Willows and all that he is to you and your family. I am so grateful to him for introducing us and May 15th will forever be his day. Happy Birthday, Willows!

Happy Birthday Charlotte

2011-05-13T17:26:00.000-07:00

Today is the 8th birthday of a little girl, Charlotte, who brought me to her mother, Carol, who oh-so tenderly and gently helped me pick up the pieces of my life after Sophie died. Charlotte's story arrived in my mailbox the day I got out of the hospital in 2007. I couldn't believe what I was reading...here was this story of a woman who had gone through the unthinkable torture of losing a child--and she made it. There she was, years later, writing it all down, sharing her story, getting up every day, breathing in and out all day long, caring for her living children...I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't imagine ever being in a place where a normal life even seemed possible. Within minutes of reading her story, I was writing a letter to the editor of the magazine and within a few days, Carol was writing to me. I was in awe of this woman--truly.

In the past few years, I've visited her a few times in her western MA home, I've met her incredible husband and her wonderful children. I've seen all her photos of Charlotte and I've cried with her many times. I can't even begin to explain how much this relationship has meant to me over the years, especially as I recognize the beauty and joy in my own 8yo and know how much Carol is missing hers. So today is Charlotte's day. Happy Birthday to the heart and spirit that started it all--you have no idea how many you have touched with your light.

What is a mother?

2011-05-11T15:19:00.000-07:00

Chris asked me the other day what it meant to be a mother. I had no idea what he meant. "Do you mean like the definition? As in, one who gives birth." No, he meant more in the what does it mean to you kind of way. Strangely, though, I still didn't know quite how to answer him. The truth is this--I never knew I wanted to be a mom until I was one. That may seem silly given that clearly we made the choice to become parents willingly. What I mean is that I spent much of my early adult life planning to be a biology teacher. In high school, I knew that was what I wanted to be. In college, that was the direction I took and, despite (or because of) a small detour to get a master's degree in paleobiology, I became a biology teacher. It was fine. And I do mean that--I met some great people, enjoyed my job, had some fantastic students (and some not-so-fantastic ones!) and generally got very good reviews for what I was doing. It was fine.

Then I had a baby...and suddenly "fine" wasn't what I wanted. This little person, this tiny little being who had landed in our family, needed so much more than fine! Unfortunately, I was stuck--I was the main income for our family and I was also the health insurance. While we knew we could figure out a way to live on very little salary, we didn't feel okay giving up health insurance with a new little one. So back to work I went. I had the summer off, but the following year, I had to go back. That year, things got bad on so many levels that I simply had to quit. We spent many months that year figuring things out. And we did. When the school year ended in 2004, I walked out and never went back. I have never, not even on my worst days, thought of going back (okay, maybe on my worst days I dream of having a career that pays actual cash...). Then Megan was born, then Sophie was born, then Evan was born...and here I am.

So this is what I do. This is what I have given up everything to do. When people ask my husband what he does, he says he is a geologist. What do I do? I'm a mom. A homeschooling, breastfeeding, cloth diaper washing, gentle discipline practicing MOM. It is what I was actually meant to be. The biology teacher thing was just a little aside that helped pay the bills while I was warming up to do this and to be this.

Today the dental hygienist told me she was simply in awe at how beautiful, cooperative, kind and just plain nice our kids were. So while I'm still a little sad I didn't get the convertible I wanted for Mother's Day, I do have something better. I have wonderful kids and an amazing husband who supports my dreams. Probably this still doesn't answer his question...but I guess if I didn't get my convertible, he doesn't get his answer.

Happy (late) Mother's Day to all the wonderful moms out there--whether you get to hold your children in your arms or just in your hearts, you are all amazing to me.

She's Six!

2011-05-06T17:24:00.000-07:00

Six years ago, today, I did something pretty cool...

Don't you think so?

So here we are, six years later and I still think she's pretty cool! My little Goose, what would we do without her?! I don't think there is much to say that I haven't already said. Her energy, love, compassion, curiosity, and just plain fantastic-ness make every day so very special. Happy Birthday, Megan, I love you!

Ranting

2011-05-04T17:41:00.001-07:00

I belong to an online group that sends me daily inspirational quotes for homeschooling/unschooling, which usually are quite open encouraging. Today, however, I got this one:
--------------------

I have heard of, read about and communicated with people who referred to themselves as part-time unschoolers, relaxed homeschoolers, eclectic homeschoolers, academic unschoolers and other terms

Limited kinds of unschooling will have limited benefits.

--------------------

And it made me feel very judged and labeled--especially that last sentence. First of all, I go through great pains not to label myself, my child or what it is we do all day. Now, I recognize that people in the "real" world require these labels and the fact that we are homeschoolers is a label I am willing to wear when we are out there. We take classes in our community that are specifically for homeschoolers, and none of them ever ask me what kind of homeschooler we are, which is good, because there are so many different kinds out there. I know people who have daily check-lists for their kids, I know people who do every subject every day and people who do some subjects on specific days and others at other times. I know people who do unit studies and people who don't. I even know people who, at the beginning of each year, go to the local public school and get that year's curriculum for their child and take it home and do it. There are lots of ways to homeschool...but all of us are simply out there trying to meet our child's needs the best we know how.

Unschooling, which is the label I would mostly wear if I had to, is what works well for us right now. It gives us the freedom to pick and choose what we want and it gives Erin a chance to explore all kinds of things based on what interests her right now. Maybe it will work for us next year too...maybe it will work for us forever...but to suggest that if we don't do it all the time, it will have "limited benefits" or to suggest that there aren't benefits for schooling in other ways is incredibly unfair and, I think, divides a homeschool community that needs to stay together. Homeschooling, like parenting, is hard enough without pinning one kind against another.

Sigh...maybe tomorrow's quote will inspire me to do something cool with my child instead of get on my blog and rant....

Better late than never....

2011-05-02T17:59:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since my last post--sorry about that! I wanted to post a few pictures from our most recent trip to FL. Enjoy!

DinoWorld was a big hit with a certain toddler. It was a bit hot for the rest of us, but he was in 7th heaven! "Mommy! Look at this one! Look at this one!"

We did a day trip to the Clearwater Aquarium, home of Winter, the dolphin with no tail (she got tangled in a crab trap as a baby). You may have heard of her because there is a big movie coming out about her on September 23rd, starring Morgan Freeman and other big names. Anyway, now my kids can say they have met her. Megan actually got a kiss from her!

Easter was fun, complete with Easter dresses for the girls and a cutie outfit for the baby boy. Pictures took a while...and you can always tell when Erin is done with them!

Oh well...

2011-04-06T16:44:00.001-07:00

It appears that there is a huge difference in the level of "hero worship" (for lack of a better term) between a 2-year-old and an 8-year-old when it comes to good ol' Mama!

Today, I was driving down the road with Evan and Erin in the car and there was a guy on the opposite sidewalk, running towards us. And I mean running. Clearly training for something and obviously doing a good job. I'm talking probably a 5 minute mile and he had clearly been sustaining that pace for a while and had no intention of stopping anytime soon. Evan points at him and says, "Look, Mama! That man runs like you!" Erin looks up from her book..."Um, no, Evan, Mom runs much more slowly than that!"

Thanks, kid!

At least I made her laugh...

2011-04-04T07:05:00.001-07:00

I have a good friend I have recently reconnected with. She is four years older than I am, but was a huge inspiration to me when I was in high school and she was one of the biggest reasons I went to Mount Holyoke College (where I got to meet Amy...). Anyway, we have reconnected through the bonds of parenthood as she recently had her first baby. He is a wonderful little bundle and she loves him with an intensity only a mother can understand. Of course, there are difficulties, as there usually are. He is a fairly high-needs baby and she is very much a goal-oriented, in-control kind of person (as you would have to be to have a PhD in toxicology!). Sometimes these two things don't necessarily match! As any experienced mom knows, peace and harmony is usually far more easily accomplished when you can just let go of control and follow your baby. As any first-time mom knows, this is far, far, far easier said than done! And haven't we all been there? Haven't we all had that moment at 2 in the morning when your dear one just won't go back to sleep and you can't think beyond the next 5 minutes, never mind the next week or month or year? Haven't we all snapped at our husbands for [insert silly reason that didn't seem silly at the time here]? Grumpily hung out in our pjs all day because the baby just won't be put down? Felt (*gasp*) resentful towards our child for needing us so? I know I have. Sure, you might admire my parenting now...but you weren't there during those many, many nights after Megan was born and I couldn't believe we had ever thought having two children was a good idea. You weren't there for the umpteenth discussion over finances and why we needed yet another baby carrier in our collection ("Maybe this one will stop her from crying!"). You weren't there for the moments that I can't even repeat because it is so painful to put myself back into those feelings of complete inadequacy and resentment towards my child.

So, anyway, here is this new mom, a thousand miles away, struggling through these completely normal feelings of exhaustion, resentment, exhaustion, lack of control, exhaustion, and overwhelming love, and all I can do is talk her through her roughest moments. Like the other day. It was 8:30 in the morning. Megan had just managed to get off to school, Chris to work, Evan was in his one-piece-footed pjs with no diaper on, Erin was on the couch reading. All at once, just after the door shut behind Megan and Chris, Evan yelled, "I POOPED!" I turned around and yes, he had pooped...in his pjs. As I'm getting him out of those (which, of course, got poop on the floor), I realize it would just be easier to put him in the shower. He gets in there, Erin yells, "I'm starving!" to which I reply that she will have to fix that herself as I'm busy cleaning up poop. Chris and Megan come rushing back in and out again (I have no idea what they forgot) and--you guessed it--the phone rings. "Hi, Aimee!" she says, "Is this a good time to chat?" I looked around me. "Of course it is! I've got one kid fixing her own breakfast (which I'll clean up after later), a two-year-old in the shower, poop on the floor and a substantial amount of poop in his pjs! But what's up???" She just started to laugh. Her next sentence? "Thank you, Aimee, you made my day!"

We talked a bit more and then I went back to cleaning up poop and she went back to soothing a fussy baby. Obviously I didn't do much for her, other than to reassure her that someday she, too, would have poop all over her floor (she can't wait!).

It gets easier...with time and with more kids, it simply gets easier. But just like you would never tell a mom who has just had a loss that things get easier with time, it does no good to tell a new mom how much better things will get. Because when you are in that moment, it just doesn't matter how much better it will get eventually, you simply need to survive now. And I understand that, my friend, I truly do. So call anytime. And if you ever need poop on your floor, I'm pretty sure Evan is equal to the task.

Just Regular Days...

2011-03-29T17:45:00.001-07:00

I haven't written in a while--not much to say. We are getting through the days of March without much excitement. The weather has been cold, far too cold to call it spring, but yet the occasional warm day means the snow is slowly (veeeerrrryyyyy sllooooooowwwlly) making its way out of our yard. The road is clear, so bike riding has begun (on days when it is warm enough to be out) and our favorite running spot at the university is nearly clear. (Right now we have a short loop and look forward to the snow being off the longer loop--surely by the time we return from FL!)

Erin is deeply involved in her Egypt unit and has made a book of gods, clay amulets, maps, stories, drawings...and is hoping to make a "life-size" pyramid (don't think so, kid!).

Megan is at that incredibly exciting time in an early-readers life where she is actually reading words and stringing them together to form the sentences. She can read the funnies in the morning, sounding out each word carefully and then putting them all together. I love love love the look on her face when it all comes together and makes sense. It just amazes me how wired the human brain is to learn and how great it is when it all falls into place. Awesome.

Evan is just cute. He has so many more words and expressions...he is priceless. I love listening to him "read" stories to his babies.

Despite the cold and the apparently unending gray of winter, spring will come! (And even if it doesn't, the kids and I are going to FL in a few weeks anyway, so who cares???)

Spring In Maine

2011-03-22T18:12:00.000-07:00

So this morning we looked outside and saw this:

Evan said, "Mama! Look! There is snow on that tree and that table and that garden and Sophie's tree and the slide and that tree.... Oh no, Mama! Let's go wipe it off."

Happy Spring, indeed.

Yet Another Ramble....*

2011-03-20T17:20:00.001-07:00

I have a friend who I have been thinking a lot about lately. I'm not sure why she has been so prominent in my thoughts recently, but she has. This friend is a few months out from her loss, a dear baby boy who died at 17 weeks gestation. And do you know what I've been thinking about? I've been thinking about how she is going about her days with a smile and laugh and working hard to enjoy her three living boys, her wonderful husband, and her supportive homeschooling community. I've been thinking that I know what she is going through, as she goes through the motions, a few months out, when people around her no longer mention her loss. The people who love her so much don't talk about it because there isn't anything left to say. They did all the right things; brought the meals, helped with the memorial...and now there is nothing left. Obviously they would be there for her if she needed it, but no longer do they expect that this missing baby will be a part of the conversation. No longer is the missing one part of their every thought. But he is still a part of her every thought. This, I know. And I need to be clear--these friends of hers are not, in anyway, being mean or cruel or thoughtless for not mentioning him. They truly, truly aren't. Every single one of them (myself included) would drop everything and come running if she were to ask...but she has mostly stopped asking. Because there is nothing anyone can do to help her right now.

And so she goes about her day with this ball and chain clamped to her heart. Can you see it? And while in the beginning people were lining up outside her door with offers to help carry it, time has gone on and life is moving forward. People don't mean to, but they have to put it down to do their own heavy lifting. Soccer practice, a dentist appointment, a sick child, a husband needing clean socks.... Before you know it, my friend is left holding this weight by herself. And again, none of us who have gone through this fault anyone for leaving us holding it. It is ours to carry and the last thing we want you to do is take it away from us. But, my friend, I know that sigh. The one that escapes you as your living children hustle out the door to enjoy the first day of spring and you are alone in the house for a brief moment of quiet. Smiling at those you pass, you don't talk about it, but I know that you know that it is there. Getting kids through the grocery store, cheering them on at a game, helping with schoolwork...all these things take priority and you have become skilled at carrying this weight without complaint, without expecting help. It is, after all, yours to carry.

I don't know why I'm writing this right now. I don't know why I have been thinking about this so much. I guess it is because I want her to know that I see it--I see that heavy weight she is carrying so carefully through her day and I want her to know I know exactly how it feels. I know what it takes to breathe deeply, pick up that weight and start your day. I know what it is like to grab a few precious seconds in a shower to simply cry at the huge unfairness of the universe and then get out and love your living children because they are there for you to love. I know what it means to have someone ask, "How many kids do you have?" and feel like you've just been kicked in the gut. I know how much that, even now, you would love a day to simply cry. I know what you carry, my friend, and I guess I just wanted to tell you that.

*sorry for the repetitiveness of this post...it really is just a ramble! And, my friend who knows who she is, if you would rather I take this down, let me know!

Unschooling Ramble

2011-03-15T10:16:00.001-07:00

I've been doing a lot of reading on unschooling this past year. I love the whole idea of letting my kid be a kid and following her interests. I will admit that I struggle with this sometimes, as many I know who also unschool have admitted to me as well. (Especially as our children get older and seem more out of tune, so to speak, with other kids their age.) Then, of course, there are the Radical Unschoolers, who have a whole following of their own. This group contains some people who are almost cult-like in their zeal to allow the child to choose absolutely everything in their lives, from clothes and food to education and bedtimes. I admire these people, who have such trust in their child's ability to always pick the right thing. I fully admit that I'm not there yet and that we are trying to decide how far "there" we will go. Take bedtime, for instance, I know without a doubt that my second would stay up really late if I let her. She would run herself into the ground--probably throwing a tantrum at the end, just because. As the parent, I choose to not let her do that. We get her into her pjs early, read to her for quite a long time, then tuck her in with a relaxing meditation CD. She goes to sleep easily and usually sleeps all night. None of it feels forced, coerced, or fixed, nor does it seem disingenuous with regard to her needs. So the fact that she doesn't necessarily have the freedom to choose her own bedtime doesn't feel "wrong" to us somehow. Radical Unschoolers would tell me I don't trust her to do what feels right in her body. And perhaps they are right...as the parent I have lived longer, have more experience in this area and I have definitely seen the results of letting her stay up too late. Trying to balance her needs and her freedom and independence can be a delicate balance, can't it? And should I feel guilty for not "allowing" this freedom? Because I don't...I feel like a responsible parent.

Food choice is another major area of discrepancy for Radical Unschoolers and regular unschoolers, like us. My kids have total freedom with anything in the house. Rarely do I ask them not to eat something at whatever time of the day...if it is in the house, it is fair game. The trick? I am very careful about what comes into our house. My husband and I are passionate about eating locally, organically, and growing our own when we can. We know our local farmers, get food from local markets and buying clubs and raw milk from a good, clean, local dairy. We have researched this topic a LOT. As a result, our kids have grown up able to appreciate limits on their food consumption. We have NEVER (and I truly mean NEVER) taken our kids to any fast food restaurants. Why? Because we have a major problem with how food is raised in this country and taking them to a restaurant like that would simply be telling them that yes, we talk about food and how important it is to know your food source, but just this once (or twice or however many times), we'll ignore that value and eat here. That gives such a HUGE mixed message to kids and I don't think it is fair. At some point in their lives, when they are older, they will be on a field trip or team sports trip or whatever, and the bus will stop at McDonald's for dinner. We know this. At that point, they will be more than welcome to choose what they want to do. If they ask us to pack them a dinner because they don't want to eat the food, we'll be more than happy to do that. If they ask us for money to buy something so they don't feel different from their peers, we'll do that as well. Because at that point, they will have the understanding they need to make their own choices. I know I'm going against all Radical Unschooling policy when I say that I just don't believe my 5yo has a good enough grasp of the complexities of the food system to make that choice right now. Of COURSE she would pick a McDonald's chicken nugget...they taste good. Duh...they are supposed to. They are marketed specifically for the 5yo...the chemicals have been tested especially for them! RUs tell me that if I don't give her the choice now, she'll "never" be able to make the choice later. Sorry, I just don't buy that. (It has a similar ring to the idea that if I don't wean my son, he'll "never" stop nursing. Again, I just don't buy that.)

So I guess I'm still floundering in this world of "regular" unschooling while being bombarded with messages about the positives of Radical unschooling. I mean, I think of the time my son, at age 5-months, did a face plant into my husband's ice cream cone. Until that moment he was exclusively breastfed, but apparently a little Moose Tracks ice cream was just want he wanted. Now, we had been fighting a dairy allergy for a while, but that aside, should I have just let him have it? Or would even RUs understand that 5-months is a little too young to make food choices? I say again, I'm stuck with what some say is my "need" to control the situation and what others would call my son's need to control what goes into his body (or my daughter's need for bedtime freedom, etc.)

Anyway, I know these are just the ramblings of a mom trying to make her way through this adventure of parenting and now homeschooling. At some point my kids will be adults...at that point I'll know if it worked or not, if my guidance was reasonable or if they are permanently messed up. But by then I'll probably be living in Hawaii, enjoying my retirement with ease. And a houseboy...I'll definitely have a houseboy who does the laundry.

Auntie Amy's Gift Part 1 of many...

2011-03-09T17:03:00.000-08:00

Here are a few images from our weekend of skiing. The first day was awesome and I was just having such a blast watching the kids on skis that I didn't take out the camera. The second day was so snowy and blustery that I didn't take out the camera (much--the shot of Megan skiing is on that day!) and then the last day was so wonderful that we were just all out enjoying it and again, usually forgot the camera. We did get some though, so enjoy.

Here we all are as high as we could get on the mountain that day (the tippy-top wasn't open due to wind, but we enjoyed a great view from where we were).

Who doesn't love a 2yo on skis for the first time?? They just don't get any cuter!

This kid was fearless...here she is on an intermediate slope in the middle of a blizzard. Just point her down the hill and off she goes!

Happy Birthday! (Number 8)

2011-02-27T04:18:00.000-08:00

As we are on our way to Saddleback Mountain to ski for the weekend, I don't have time to put up an appropriate post for this very important day. You see, 8 years ago today, I became a mother for the very first time. Obviously it was a moment I'll never forget and one that continues to change my life profoundly. When Erin was born, I was planning to breastfeed her for 6 weeks (more wasn't really necessary, right?), go back to work immediately and never look back. Wow. Clearly that didn't happen. Anyway...

Erin is such an amazing kid and I love watching her grow. I'm so blessed to be home with her every day and be a part of her journey out into this world. I wouldn't trade it for anything!

Happy Birthday, Erin!

Victory

2011-02-25T05:42:00.000-08:00

Unschooling is a journey--an amazing, eye-opening journey of self-discovery for both the children and the parents. Trust is a huge part of this, as is watching children make mistakes and watching them celebrate their victories. This may not look like a victory to someone who likes a tidy kitchen, but to my not-yet-8-yo who just made her very first pan of brownies from start to finish all by herself, it is an important victory.

The WhatIfs

2011-02-17T17:07:00.000-08:00

It think it is human nature to second guess everything. I know that for years after Sophie died, I spent time wrapped up in the WhatIf game. Of course there is no point to this game--we all do the best we can with the information we have at the time--and it is only the passage of time that allows us to move through those doubts and accept the consequences of our choices. In the 5 days since Amy's death, I have been rapidly second-guessing each and every minute I spent with her and wondering if I really was there for her as much as possible. Obviously I was doing the best I could and I know this. I've no doubt that Amy knows it too and even with all the bumps, I know our friendship would have lasted another million years, easy.

So on Wednesday, I stood up in front of a room filled to the very brim with people who loved Amy. Friends, family, colleagues...all there to honor the too short life of a very loving and giving person. I stood there and tried to sum up 20 years of friendship...and I couldn't do it. I mean, I spoke and people said it was great...but I just don't feel like I did her justice at all. I don't know as there is a way to adequately express the very simple idea that Amy was just always there. She was always there, always helping, always a part of our lives--a big part. From college, to our wedding, to our pets, to our kids...Amy was just always there. Always. So I can talk about the inside jokes and the strange/funny/interesting things we have done over the last 20 years, but it simply doesn't explain it just right, you know? And this is what I'm stuck on right now, as I play the WhatIf game. WhatIf I had said something better, something clearer, something a bit deeper and more meaningful? How could I have done this? How could I have better expressed myself (through tears, granted) and explained how deeply woven into very fabric of our family Amy was? I just couldn't do it. Now her apartment is empty, the memorial service is done, the ashes are on our shelf and, just outside my window, time is marching on. And as time passes, I will become more comfortable with how things went and I will again trust that I did the best I could with the information I had at the time. Amy is now in a place where she can read my feelings straight from my heart...and she already knows what it says there. I will forever wish I had found a way to convey these feelings to the people at her service, but in the end, the one person who needs to know it, already does. I will find peace with this...in time.

It is sinking in...

2011-02-14T18:41:00.000-08:00

It was this past Saturday, during the end of Evan's birthday party, that I got the call about Amy’s death. After the initial feeling of shock, I went into "business mode" and began to put into place everything we had been talking about for months. I went down to her apartment on Sunday to meet up with her mother and Sara. We sat and talked for a while, shared some stories and outlined some specifics about the service. Then her mom left and Sara and another friend and I began to clean the apartment. I didn't shed a tear as I packed up books and clothes. I didn't have a problem wrapping up her dolphin figures or packing up her cd collection. That afternoon, we all went to Amy's favorite restaurant to finalize plans for her service. We got the date and time, figured out the menu and how we would set up the room. Sara is in charge of the slide show, I'm in charge of the ice cream...no problem. Then I drove home. When I got home, Chris and I worked out the most "normal" schedule we could for the week while still allowing time for the final apartment cleaning and Megan's busy week at school. All was fine. I emailed my employer and told her I would definitely be at work this week and that I really was okay.

Then I woke up this morning...and Megan didn't want to go to school, Evan only wanted to nurse, Erin didn't want to get dressed, and the worst? I'm having trouble reaching the distributor for Ben and Jerry's to deliver enough ice cream for 80 people at the memorial service. I feel like I'm losing my mind. Tears are ready to spring at any moment and I simply cannot believe that I'm facing the rest of my life without Amy.

So I talked to my employer. I'm taking the rest of the week off.

It's done...

2011-02-12T19:16:00.001-08:00

It seems almost surreal to me that on the day I am celebrating the birth of the very miracle Amy never doubted for a minute, one of my strongest supporters and closest friends ends her battle with cancer.

I'll miss you, Amy, more than I will ever be able to adequately express here and now.

Happy Birthday!

2011-02-12T04:40:00.000-08:00

Two years ago today, a small piece of our shattered hearts was put back into place, a miracle we were too afraid to believe in happened, and our family was made more complete.

What would we do without our climbing, tumbling, singing, show-stopping, happy, crazy, sister-doting, all-around amazing little man?

Happy Birthday, Evan Christopher!

The Promise

2011-02-10T17:36:00.001-08:00

Things have been bad the past week or so. With Amy in hospice and "very close" to the end (though still, still, lingering on), I have been driving to Lewiston as often as possible--once every 2-3 days, depending on work schedules and such. It has been nuts and unfair to everyone involved. Me being gone means my husband has to miss a lot of time at work, I have to miss my shifts at work, the kids have to get shuffled from friend to friend, we have to lean on other family members a bunch (which, of course, disrupts their lives as well), and life just generally feels like it is one straw away from crashing down. As awful and selfish as it is to admit this out loud, I am definitely feeling like a hostage in this situation. Why? Because I made a promise to a friend. She controlled everything about her death--everything. The paperwork, the legal documents, the stuff...all of this has been planned out for months and is all taken care of. But there was this one thing. This one thing that was out of her control and scared her the most. Nobody, not her friends, not her mother, not her doctors, not even herself, could control the end. How it would happen, when it would happen...nobody knew. All she was clear about was that she did not want to linger on in pain and she did not want to be a burden on others. But we couldn't promise that, now could we. We couldn't give her any assurances about that. All we could tell her was that she wouldn't be a burden, that we would be with her and that she wouldn't die alone. Did you catch that last bit? That she wouldn't die alone.

Now here we are. There are only three of us who are allowed to see her right now. Three of us trying to do the impossible round-the-clock hand-holding for someone we all care very deeply about. Someone we promised would not die alone. And the truth of it is (oh man, this is hard to admit)...the hard truth is...I don't want to do it anymore. Am I not the worst friend you have ever met in your life?? I'm feeling so trapped. Trapped between this promise that I made to a friend back when I couldn't even wrap my brain around her impending death, and my life that needs me, whole and now. Because I'm not whole with them right now--my mind is always on the next schedule maneuver or the deep sadness I'm feeling or the guilt I feel at both short-changing my family and feeling like a hostage--because there is a lot of guilt associated with that feeling, believe me.

So here we are, approaching my son's second birthday and I haven't even managed to get him a present or bake a cake yet (will happen tomorrow, I swear!). We do have a small gathering planned and we'll sing to him, watch him blow out two candles and eat a cake that will hopefully look like a blue dinosaur. After this, I will pack up and head back down to be at Amy's side. I guess I'm finding a balance, for the most part. I know these feelings of guilt and anger are normal and natural for someone in my shoes. I know they will pass. And I know that for the rest of my life, I will never, ever regret my actions in this matter. I will not regret the time spent talking to her, holding her hand, brushing back her hair, or swabbing her dry lips with water as she struggles to breathe. I will not regret fulfilling my last promise to her. I know this. And I also know, and will admit, that I will be happy when this is all over. That's the truth.

Maine...winter...

2011-02-03T10:54:00.000-08:00

How tall are your children?

Chester

2011-01-31T18:45:00.000-08:00

He jumped on counters and stole food like nobody's business. He ran off and didn't look back, especially in the woods when there were other animals around. He HATED people on bikes.

BUUUTTTT...he LOVED to play with empty water bottles. He was a dedicated running partner. He liked to cuddle, go hiking, go camping, go boating...he enjoyed the ocean, lakes, rivers...anything with water. He liked to eat blueberries off the bush.

There is so much more that I just can't find the words for. We will miss him terribly.

Flashlights

2011-01-30T16:25:00.001-08:00

Chris and I share a bathroom that is sandwiched between our bedroom and the mudroom and has no windows. Obviously, for a bathroom, this is not a big deal at all. This evening, I entered this bathroom to find blankets and pillows all over the floor. So I asked Megan why there were so many blankets and pillows in there. "We were making beds," she said. Of course, I thought, beds...in the bathroom...why wouldn't they? "Um...Why were you making beds in the bathroom?" I asked. "Because we were using flashlights and we didn't want to waste the flashlight by making them in the light."

Makes perfect sense!

Onward Ho...

2011-01-28T18:30:00.001-08:00

I haven't written in a while for many reasons, but the main one is that I never know what to write after her birthday. What can I say that sums up moving into our 5th year without her while making it clear that we are okay while also making it clear that we miss her while also making it clear that life is good right now even though it shouldn't be because we have this missing one but we are okay.....

See the circular logic? So since I don't like run-on sentences, I just haven't written in a while. If you are babylost, you know what I mean and if you don't know what I mean, you don't need to worry about it--truly.

Happy Birthday Eve

2011-01-21T15:58:00.000-08:00

Here I sit, on the cusp of yet another year without my third baby, my little Sophia Anne, and I'm wondering what it would be like with yet another voice to add to our already chaotic life. Would she have thrown a fit out of hunger and exhaustion like Megan did tonight? Would she have been trying to madly memorize all 44 presidents before dinner like Erin was? Would she be singing Puff The Magic Dragon at the absolute top of her lungs like Evan is? What would a little, blond 4-year-old add to our family? I'll never know. And here I am, four years away from the day that shattered my soul in ways I still cannot describe, and I need to be honest. The truth is that the sorrow that nearly killed me 4 years ago now finds itself next to something else in my heart. There is a glimmer there that has been growing steadily with time--the glimmer that other Babylost Mamas had told me about 4 years ago, but I didn't believe that it could ever really be true. It is the glimmer of the fact that happiness is possible without her. As slowly and grudgingly as I have allowed it to come on, there it is. Before I go further, I want to be very clear here--time does NOT heal. It simply doesn't. NOTHING will heal the piece of my heart that is broken forever. Nothing. But time allows a chance for that glimmer to grow a little...to expand into the areas of your heart that are left after it has been irreparably shattered. And that is what is happening to me right now.

So here I sit--and my plate is undeniably full of sadness right now, with my friend's impending death corresponding so closely with my lost one's birthday--focusing on what Sophie has brought into my life. She has taught me patience, compassion, kindness, and empathy in a way that no living baby ever could. She has made me a voice for other Babylost Mamas as I work to spread the word on how to assist someone going through such loss. She has given Chris and I the deep deep down, unbreakable understanding that our marriage, truly, can survive anything. And these are all gifts I could never have ever gotten from someone else.

Of course I'm writing this with the full understanding that at least one person reading this is only a week away from her own shattered dream...and I don't want to do or say anything that could upset her. I remember how angry I got when people told me how much better things got over time (Write that down, people, don't EVER tell a Babylost Mama that things will get better with time.... Just don't.) I remember thinking that I desperately wanted to transport myself to the future where I was promised this land of less pain, but I also desperately wanted to stop time so that I could always be closer to her. I wanted to never forget the feeling of her moving around inside me, the beautiful swell of my belly, the glow of my pregnancy smile...those things were erased with time, you see, and that was something I could not imagine being without. So I don't want to write about the happiness that is "possible with time" without also saying I know what it is like to be so, so, so very conflicted and angry with time. I know what you are feeling, dear friend, and I recognize that I am currently writing with the ability to put myself back there, in your shoes, or not. And I am choosing not to--something you simply don't have the ability to do right now. I recognize that and I also recognize it can cause anger and resentment. I'm so very sorry....

Now, Sophia, as your tree twinkles with lights outside my window, I want you to know, my dear baby girl, how very deeply you are missed and loved. I continue to wonder how I have survived 4 years of being without you, but you have helped make our family whole, and for that, I will always be grateful.

Hard Day

2011-01-17T16:52:00.000-08:00

Today was a hard day. I went to visit Amy again and at this point, it is very possible that every visit will be the last one. Who knows if she will rally again (the hospice nurse said that you never, ever underestimate the will of a very stubborn person--and if you know Amy, well...) but the social worker that spoke to me this morning made it clear that we are very close to the end. Amy is tired. She is in pain. It is time for her to let go. Everyone around her has told her it is okay to let go, that it is okay to stop fighting. Everyone, I should say, but me. I hadn't said those words to her. I didn't give her "permission" to die because, honestly, I didn't want to. I know how unbelievably selfish that is. I know. But a part of me wants her to keep fighting--just stay alive long enough for someone, somewhere, to find a cure and just help her. This is all so damned unfair. But after talking to the social worker and the doctor, I knew I had to tell her today. I had to--for her and for me.

So today, after she had showered and gotten cleaned up and was a little be more lucid than she had been the day before (though not by much), I sat by her bed, took her hand in mine and told her how much she has meant to me and my family for the last 20 years. I told her I was sorry that I hadn't told her enough how much she has meant to us. I told her that I couldn't stand seeing her in such pain and that if she felt it was time, then she had to stop fighting. We sobbed together for a very long time. When she could finally talk again, she told me that she was trying very hard not to die near Sophie's birthday. I had to laugh. Here is someone who never, even for an instant, wavered in her support after Sophie died. Someone who is not married, does not have kids, and never even pretended to understand even a little bit what it felt like to lose a child...but always, always, was kind, compassionate, understanding, loving, giving and so so so supportive. Here she is, dying, and her last act on Earth is to try to NOT die on Sophie's birthday, because she doesn't want me hurting anymore than I already am. What do you say to that???

Dancing in the rain

2011-01-16T18:40:00.000-08:00

This morning the kids drew some pictures for me to take to my friend. As I was leaving, the kids described each of their creations so that I might correctly describe them to Amy. Evan drew with lots of colors and told me it was the ABCs.

Erin drew a picture of a bird in a tree holding a leash that was attached to a poodle. "I want Auntie Amy to laugh," she said, "and a bird taking a poodle for a walk is pretty funny!"

Megan handed me her picture of a person surrounded by dots of different sizes. "I want Auntie Amy to always remember what it felt like to dance in the rain."

Oh, from the mouths of babes....

The end is coming too fast. I'm not ready to say good bye, and yet there are no other options available to me. Amy is clearly ready to let go. She is tired, she is in pain....I saw it in her face today. There is nothing else for me to say to her except that I, too, hope she will always remember what it felt like to dance in the rain.

The last goodbye

2011-01-07T11:25:00.000-08:00

Is it stupid of me that I didn't think it would be this hard? Yesterday we went to southern Maine to visit my friend who is dying. We brought the girls as well, wanting them to have a chance to say good bye. It was strange, though. They had brought a bunch of stuff that they wanted to show her (new dolls, schoolwork, artwork, etc.) but when we got there, they got busy playing with her stuffed animal pile and looking at her books. Although they said hi and were talking to her a little bit, the girls seemed intimidated by her--scared to touch her. I'm sure this is perfectly normal behavior for a 7 and 5 yo. (Evan was there too, but clearly he doesn't understand what is going on.)

When it was time to go, I was helping the girls use the bathroom before getting back into the car and Erin said, "It seems strange to say goodbye. Are we really not going to see her again?" I could kind of see her brain trying to wrap itself around this very real situation. When I told her that no, she wouldn't see her again, Erin ran into the living room and gave her a big hug. Then she simply waved and went out the door, saying, "Bye! I love you!" Megan followed suit, albeit a bit more slowly. My friend, by this point, was crying and I was trying unsuccessfully to hold it together. Both of us were suddenly struck by the intensity of our feelings. Here she was, sitting in bed, breathing in and out, having been an integral part of my oldest child's life, saying good bye to the little girl she loves so much and is never going to see grow up. The huge, gigantic, immense, unfairness of all of this just boggles my mind.

So then we left--I'll go back down next week, and the week after that and the week after that--for as long as I need to. But yesterday was when the finality of all of this really came through. And, as I have to be honest with myself, I'm not handling it very well. I guess I thought that since we have known for a while now that the end was coming, it would some how make it easier. I guessed wrong.

Catching up with a friend

2011-01-04T05:56:00.000-08:00

A friend called me the other day--a friend who I hadn't talked to in a very long time. As we were catching up, she said something about not realizing we were "continuing" with the homeschool "thing." I was a little baffled then realized that the last time we had spoken, homeschooling was a short-term fix for us. It was something I was going to do for Erin to help her transition into "normal" school. See, when she left the Montessori program she was in, she too far ahead academically to go to first grade. Now, for many kids, this would not be a problem--a few extra-credit assignments and they'd be fine. But not Erin. Never one to be bored and quiet about it, Erin would have very quickly risen to the ranks of Troublemaker and that would have rapidly been followed with trips to the principal's office, parent-teacher conferences and, ultimately, I'm sure, a diagnosis of ADHD and medications. I had hoped that doing 6months to one year of homeschooling would get her focused enough to go to regular school with the ability to breathe through her impatience and contain her exuberance. Obviously that isn't what happened.

As we are half-way through our second year of homeschooling and, at present, planning to homeschool Megan alongside Erin next year, my friend clearly began to worry about my kids. "Are you going to do this forever??" she asked, a little shocked. I told her, "You know, the bottom line is that I trust my kids. I trust them to learn what they need to learn and I trust them to know what is right for them. If they decide they want to try school eventually, great. If not, great. They will tell me what is right for them." I could hear that sentence rattling around in her brain. I could hear all the replies she wanted to vocalize that never materialized. I could hear the doubt in her silence. But here's the thing...and anyone who homeschools probably caught the errors in my thinking in the first paragraph (perhaps because you already knew them or perhaps because you used to share my thinking and also changed your minds as well). The error was my idea to "contain her exuberance." I can now look back at that and laugh. Contain it?? Really? Why would I want to do that to my child??

So here we are. Erin's exuberance is FAR from contained...far, far, far from contained. And we wouldn't have it any other way.

(Sorry the picture was blurry...it was a blizzard and she was out for our first snowshoe adventure of the season!)

Happy New Year!

2011-01-01T17:27:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted in a while, due to the holiday whirlwind we have been living in! Life is finally slowing down a little as we head into the long winter stretch. January has always been a difficult month for me and since 2007 it has become a particularly hard time. I have a good idea for Sophie's birthday, though, so I'm actually looking forward to it this year--at least, I think I am. We'll see how I feel as it approaches. For now, however, I want to focus on the positive and not let myself get pulled into the hole of sadness that is so easy to get into this time of year. Of course I will let myself be sad when I need to be, but I won't let it consume me, as (truly) it no longer does consume me. Does that sound horrible? Because, to be clear, I still miss her terribly--beyond terribly. I would give just about anything to have her back...~~but~~ (and?) I am more settled into my life without her than I have been in the past. Wow--the guilt of that statement it amazing. What kind of a mother doesn't sit around and pine for their missing child 24/7????

I know--one who has a reason to get up in the morning--and here they are:

So here we go into 2011! Christmas was amazing and wonderful--full of family and good food and presents. Santa brought the girls the Felicity and Elizabeth American Girl Dolls (the historical ones--from the revolution), so they were in 7th heaven. Erin walked around clutching her doll saying, "I feel so content!" Evan got a cool book with a tractor that drives around a little track and then falls into a pretend pond. He LOVES to wind it up and, as it spins around the track he yells, "SWOW DOWN TAK-TER!!" Megan was delighted by everything--from her new doll to her new charades game...but when asked what her favorite part of the holiday was, she remembered the trolley ride with Grammy and Grampy. She wants that on the agenda again next year.

To start this year off right, we went to Acadia today to ski. Megan hasn't been feeing 100%, so while she skied for a bit, she rode in the sled much of the way. It didn't dampen her spirits, though!

Erin skied the entire way--making snowballs and having a great time. We pushed each other in the snow, raced each other and generally had a great time. She's a fun kid--with fewer teeth than she had yesterday!

Evan rode sitting up in his blue sled much of the way...then he fell asleep so we moved him to the green sled. He was lying down in that sled and Uncle Greg was looking very much like ski patrol pulling an injured baby boy down the mountain. People were definitely looking at us funny!

All in all, a fun day and a fun start to the year! Thank you to Greg and Meg for sharing it with us! We understand that getting to Acadia, finding our starting point and then getting ourselves and three kids dressed appropriately, geared up with boots, skis, poles, hats, gloves, jackets...all borders on comical. We appreciate your willingness to put up with it all!

Happy New Year, everyone!

Sigh...

2010-12-21T17:08:00.001-08:00

It was time...as much as I loath to admit it, it was time. Today, my baby boy got his first haircut. As with most moms I know, I'm so happy and blessed to be watching him grow, but also so sad by how quickly his baby-ness is going away. I already miss it! This haircut has been getting more and more necessary as more and more people having been calling him a girl. Today, as we walked into the salon to get the trim, the woman who greeted us said, "Oh, look how beautiful she is!" That's when I knew...he really did need a haircut.

So here he is now...I still think he is pretty cute! (But definitely more kid-like, huh?)

Evan To The Rescue!

2010-12-16T14:37:00.000-08:00

So today we were having a bit of a tense homeschooling moment. You know the kind, where things are going badly, you don't really have time to finish, everyone is trying desperately to finish, nothing is going right, and nobody is willing to just call it a day. Erin was frustrated and crying, I was frustrated and trying to calm her down and, well, truthfully neither of us even knew where the toddler was. I was sitting at the table as Erin very loudly lamented her brother coloring on her Battle of Antietam card while she stormed back and forth from one room to another trying desperately to find a marker that worked. It just wasn't a good scene, you know? The kind where, as the parent, you want to go back and re-do it the right way to avoid the whole thing. Anyway, so there we are, both frustrated, she's yelling, I'm trying to breathe and Evan walks into the living room with chocolate all around his mouth and under his nose, carrying an open container of chocolate chips (which we keep on the 4th shelf UP in the pantry), happily munching away! Erin stops yelling..."Mom!" she says, "Mom! Look at Evan." Evan looks up with his sparkling blue eyes, his sly smile and, key to his superpowers, his dimples and says,"Er-nin want choc-ate chip?" He held up the container to her, "Er-nin want one?"

Erin and I looked at each other, sat down and munched some chocolate chips and laughed. Problem solved!

Thank you, Evan!

Happy Birthday!

2010-12-12T16:19:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday to the man who carries my hand, my heart and my spirit so gently on this journey called life; to the wonderful father of my children; to the man who has been with me to the absolute depths of hell and who never wavered in his support as, together, we clawed our way back to this world. Happy Birthday to the one person who will never forget where we have been and who always, always, has his eye on where we are headed; to the person who believes in me, provides for our family, and (more importantly) makes the best homemade ice cream and double chocolate chip cookies you have ever had.

Happy Birthday to my husband--thank you for being you!

Date Night

2010-12-10T18:22:00.000-08:00

Tonight I thought the stars would not align. Erin and Megan are with Grammy and Grampy for the night and I had hoped to leave Evan with a friend for an hour-ish so that Chris and I could go out on a date--which we haven't done in a looooonnnnnnggg time. But then Evan didn't take a nap and the friend we were going to leave him with had to go to her office holiday party. Originally she was going to take him with her (not a big deal), but with him having not really napped and getting back late, it just wasn't a good situation for him. No problem, I called our babysitter, thinking that it wasn't like she had to put him to bed or anything--no dice, she had basketball and wouldn't be back until 6:15 or so. Her mom offered to take him, but as her husband wasn't home, she was the one that would have to go get her older daughter from basketball and I didn't want Evan to have to ride in a car all the way down to Orrington because then he would have fallen asleep in the car and not gone to bed tonight (other moms understand this, right?). So we finally decided to see if we could impose on my brother-in-law and sister-in-law, which we really didn't want to do because they have already agreed to help us out this coming Tuesday when neither of us can be home for a few hours due to a different conflict. We call them up and they agree to take Evan for a few hours. He can play at their house, "no problem" (which, given the mess he left there, was a pretty amazing offer on their part!).

Babysitter solved, we are off to dinner. Except we didn't take into account the HUGE hockey game tonight--UM vs UNH. Never have I seen that long a line of traffic trying to get over the bridge to campus! So even though we were only a mile or so from town, getting there was a trick. And once there, finding a place to park was even more of a trick (I had to go through a deep snowbank!). As we walked into the restaurant, we were fairly certain that it wasn't going to happen and we prepared ourselves to head back home, call date night a total failure and move on with our lives because clearly there would be a two hour wait for a table.

That was when the stars began to align. We got a table immediately AND it was next to the heater so I could dry my cold, wet feet (remember the snowbank mentioned above?). We got a wonderful meal, had a $10 coupon, and even enjoyed some fried ice cream. We went back to get Evan and he was happy as a clam, having spent the evening spreading cushions all over the house and feeding the rubber duckies some dry rice. Things worked out just fine!

And us? We got two full hours of uninterrupted conversation! Tomorrow the kids will be back and the holiday season will continue in full swing. The house will need to be cleaned, laundry done, plans made, errands run...but it will be done with a smile because tonight I got to remember a little more about this wonderful guy I am spending my life with--and that makes all the difference. Ahhhhhhh...we should do this more often!

Sad Times

2010-12-04T18:45:00.000-08:00

Everyone who reads this blog knows that my best friend from college is dying of cancer. Things have started to go downhill rapidly and she has weeks to live. At this point we are making the decision that probably the girls will not see their Auntie again, as we want them to remember her as the fun, energetic, playful Auntie and not the sick in bed Auntie. (We realize some people may not agree with this choice and it is certainly not set in stone by any stretch--we just have to do what feels right to us at this point.)

Tonight, at dinner, as I was telling the girls the latest update, Megan began to cry. I took her in my arms and we rocked for a while. She sobbed the tears of a child who cannot understand these hard facts of life, while I silently cried the tears of a mother unable to change reality for her child. "Mommy," she said through her tears, "I wish that when you went outside to say 'Hi' to the people who go to the sky that they could come back down and give you a hug. Just so you know they heard you."

Yes, my dear, I wish that too.

Trust

2010-12-01T15:31:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine on Facebook just posted this quote and it really struck a chord with me as it described the shift has been taking place in our family over the past few years.

"It's more important to parent the children I have than to parent in order to get the children I want." - Diana Jenner

I look at this and see what it is that has (in the past) caused tension between me and my children--that is, my fear that if they don't do what I ask, they will turn out "badly" (whatever that may mean). I hadn't been taking the time to see who they are here and now...I had been trying to train them for some future goal. And now that I avoid that kind of thinking (and have for a while now), I can look back and see where the fear was ruling my parenting. I can see how far we have come and how much we value the relationship we have with our kids. I wouldn't trade my life with them for anything! I like that I'm at a point where I can take a deep breath and trust my child. Trust that building a certain thing out of legos is important at that moment; trust that not putting a hat on this one time won't hurt anyone; trust that they will learn what they need to know without me forcing it on them; trust that they will grow up to be the wonderful human beings they already are...only bigger.

My Elephant's name is Sophia Anne

2010-11-23T10:03:00.000-08:00

If you are having your holiday with a sister, brother, aunt, uncle, cousin, parent, grandparent, neighbor or friend who has had a loss, it is there. Can you see it? You may be standing right on it, desperately trying to ignore it. But it is there--The Elephant In The Room. Those of us who have had losses are trying very hard not to look at it as well, least you all think we are crazy. Of course, the farther away from your loss you are, the more people think you are insane if you point it out. While you are dying to shout it out, you might just keep quiet and wait until someone asks. Oh that? Those pictures over there? Yes, that is my Elephant In The Room. I had a baby girl, and she died. If you are closer to your loss, the desire to set up a shrine in the middle of the dining room table with candles and flowers and blow horns around your Elephant is almost unbearable. THIS IS MY ELEPHANT! you'll want to yell, SOMEONE PLEASE LOOK AT MY ELEPHANT!

One of the most common questions/statements I get when I give talks about infant and pregnancy loss is something along the lines of, "Oh, I knew about [The Elephant] but I didn't want to mention it. I didn't want to upset anyone." My response is always the same--it isn't upsetting...at least not in the way you might think. Let's look at this. Thanksgiving dinner is coming and you notice that there is no candle or special memory card out for your cousin's Elephant. You say, "Would you like me to light a candle in honor of your Elephant?" There are two possible answers to this. A) "Oh thank you so much for thinking of our Elephant, but we prefer to light his/her candle later, with just the two of us." or B) "OH THANK YOU FOR REMEMBERING! I really wanted to light a candle but didn't want anyone to think I was forcing my grief onto you! I'm so happy you thought of my Elephant!"

See? Neither of those possible answers is upsetting at all. But the question--the question that you asked--brought The Elephant front and center. And the grieving family will thank you for it. Because here is the secret--one of the most treasured gifts you can ever give a grieving family is the sound of their Elephant's name. They want to know that their Elephant isn't just important to them, but to many. They want to know that their Elephant was real and had an impact beyond their own walls. They want to know their Elephant is remembered. And with one question, you gave them all of that. All of it.

Holidays are a challenge for everyone, no doubt. But a grieving family is eating their turkey, doing their shopping, buying gifts and trying to spread some cheer while silently remembering their Elephant. Please remember this when you are celebrating with them. It could make all the difference.

Planting Seeds...

2010-11-14T16:48:00.000-08:00

This weekend was the annual ME/NH La Leche League Conference. I love this gathering of like-minded souls! It is so refreshing to be in a group of people who all support breastfeeding and natural family living. I go to this conference every year, I am often on the conference committee and I am usually a speaker as well. Two years ago, I gave a talk on Helping Families Cope with Loss. It was a talk designed to reach out to nurses, doulas, midwives and also family members who might be supporting someone who has lost a baby to early pregnancy loss or stillbirth. The talk was extremely well received and, despite the fact that I couldn't get through without crying, seemed to make people stop and think about what they say and do with families dealing with this kind of grief. This year, I gave the same talk and again, it was very well received. (And now, nearly 4 years out, I can give the talk without crying--though my voice still does crack at certain points.) After my talk, a woman came up to me to thank me for having the courage to tell my story again and again. She wanted me to know that she had come to this same talk two years ago and was so touched she immediately went home to call her daughter who was a nurse in Toronto, Canada. She gave her daughter all the information, websites and other resources I had shared with her. Within a month, her daughter was faced with a loss situation and, because of the information she had, was able to work with the family and help them see the beauty of their baby girl. That family stayed in touch with the woman's daughter because they were so thankful for her love and support during their loss and in the months and years that followed. They now have twins, this woman was telling me, and her daughter goes over to their house once a week to play with the babies, maybe make a meal...whatever she can to be helpful. Their relationship is so special and so important to them because of how it was created--though the bond of loss and the caring and dedication of one nurse who never left their side.

Now, I don't claim any of the responsibility for this relationship--clearly this woman's daughter is extremely loving and dedicated to her job--but I am so happy to have planted that seed. I'm so happy to have been able to help someone help this nurse find the tools she needed to be exactly what this family needed. Thank you, Sophie, for the love and strength you bring to our family--you did this. I wonder how many you touched at this year's conference.....

Day Mountain Photo

2010-11-11T18:13:00.000-08:00

I think the people I am around on a daily basis usually fall into three basic categories. There are the people who have had losses similar to ours that fully understand what we have gone through/are going through and who are there to support us no matter what. Then there are the people who have never had a loss and don't understand what our family is going through AND are still very compassionate and empathetic and are there to support us no matter what. And then there are the people who have never had a loss and, although they most likely don't mean to be, they simply aren't very supportive. (I understand that, most times, this is not because they are mean-hearted people...it is simply a true lack of understanding--and not in an ignorant way, either...I'm not trying to be mean here). In the first year or so after Sophie died, I had a lot of anger and bitterness towards that last group of people. I was judgmental and impatient with them and worked hard to avoid them at all costs. I fully acknowledge that, now, nearly 4 years out (which is an easier place to acknowledge things from than when you are so raw from such a loss).

Anyway, for a while after she died, I was getting lots of advice from people on how to move forward. Much of it was useful. Some of it, however, was in that they-didn't-mean-it-to-be-but-it-was-hurtful category. And the thing about that kind of advice is that when you are nursing a completely broken heart and soul, you are actually scared enough to take it. Maybe they are right, you'll say to yourself, maybe if I keep talking about her I will drive myself crazy. Maybe I do "need" to forget about her. And everything in your whole being will tell you the advice is wrong--that it is actually okay to include her in your life and in your family...but that nagging voice--that well-meaning person who told you to forget it and move on--will still be there. Always there. Looking back now, I can see that "advice" for what it was. And I can see that it came from some of the people in my world who are in that third category--the ones who simply don't get it and (hopefully) will never get it. And I can also look back at the me who was so angry and judgmental towards those people and think, I know you won't approve and that is okay. You have no way of understanding and we truly hope that is always true. We love you for what you bring to our life, but this grief journey is ours to take. It feels good to be in a more balanced place. With that in mind, there is something we have been waiting for nearly 2 years to do...and many will think we're nuts. We're okay with that!

When Erin was a toddler, we took her up Day Mountain in Acadia National Park. We had a great day! Two years later, we took the same picture of her sister and when we got them printed, we realized they were actually wearing the same vest for the same hike. So, of course, we had to take Evan up it this fall wearing the same vest! But there is more--I wanted to take an empty picture as well. Just a picture of the sign at the top so that I can put them all together in a frame and show off all four of my babies. Because there really are four, you know.

Beer Maker Erin!

2010-11-09T17:14:00.001-08:00

Man! Between my new job, travels, and life, this blog is getting the short end of the stick! Did you know I started a new job? It is at this store in downtown Bangor. This place is awesome--downstairs is homebrew, wine making, cheese making, and some local produce and dairy (raw milk, some cheese and yogurt). Upstairs is cloth diapers, baby wearing, nursing support and locally made baby stuff (booties, hats) and so much more! We are going to be offering regular classes in basic cloth diapering and baby wearing, and then additional things like gentle discipline, nutrition and simplicity parenting. It is going to be absolutely awesome and it IS absolutely awesome to be a part of this!

Today was my first day there with the kids--Erin and Evan came with me. Evan, obviously, is happy wherever I am and wherever he can find a sister to play with. Erin got a bit bored upstairs so she wandered downstairs to talk to Zeth and Asa (who work with the beer stuff). Asa was brewing up a huge batch of brew and Zeth taught Erin about different hops and let her taste some of the grains. Now she is all interested in beer making and fermentation and such! I've no doubt she'll be helping customers in no time! (Cuz I'm sure people will take beer advice from a 7-year-old, no problem!)

As we were leaving today, Erin said to me, "I really like Zeth, he is kind and friendly...and Asa...well, Asa is just cool!"

Not To Meat

2010-11-04T06:24:00.000-07:00

So it wasn't a problem after all! The lady at the ticket counter told us to just tell our server we were vegetarian. So we did and got a nice meal of rice, beans, potato, bread, and grilled veggies. As a bonus, vegetarians get to use forks! Yes, there were silly comments, but in the end we did what was right for us. And our knight gave his ribbon of devotion to none other than the beautiful Princess Megan!

Thank you, Anette...I know how right you are. And seeing Erin use more and more of our values as she grows makes these moments of indecision few and far between.

To Meat or Not To Meat

2010-11-03T06:43:00.000-07:00

Dietary choices are a hot topic in our family, and I'll tell you why. We have been vegetarians for a long time now. While we have eaten occasional meals of sea food, we have not touched pork, beef or poultry. At home, this is easy and very few people question it. In fact, many of our friends and extended family members are also vegetarians. It is a very easily defined parameter in which to create a meal. In the past year, however, we have begun to introduce very small quantities of locally-raised meat into our diets. This, it turns out, is even harder to explain when we are out and about. At the vast majority of restaurants, it is easy--we order vegetarian. At most friends' houses, it is also easy to explain and we know who among our friends only serve local foods and who does not. When we are with friends who do not, we simply eat vegetarian fare. Simple. But for some, it isn't as simple anymore.

So what do you do when faced with the inevitable discussion about meat in general? Trying to explain that there IS a difference between store-bought meat and locally raised meat just makes us sound elitist. Understand that I'm not judging you for eating store-bought meat. Really! If you fully understand where your meat comes from and are okay with that--great! I don't happen to be okay with that for my family. You make your choices and I'll make mine. But, in the same way that I'm really, really, really, not judging you, I would hope for the same courtesy. Shrugging me off as snobby or just plain silly is annoying. But I digress...

Fast forward to tonight. We are going to a really cool medieval dinner theater. We will see jousting, sword play, horses, court jesters...and we'll have a genuine medieval meal (there is no menu...they just serve the dinner). Guess what? There weren't many vegetarian choices in the 1100's. Of course, as Erin pointed out, "If it is a REAL medieval experience, the meat HAS to be pasture raised and local. It HAS to be!" (She's right, of course, but I'm guessing this place isn't THAT authentic.) So I asked Chris what he would do (he isn't here with me) and he agreed it is a problem. I will fully acknowledge to anyone who wants me to that I don't believe it would hurt me. I know it would be safe and "fine" and all of that. But at what price? How deeply do I believe in the values I'm raising my kids with (answer: VERY deeply)? If I eat it, what do I tell them (values are only good at home when it is convenient?? Where do I draw the line (no store-bought meat except at dinner theaters? what about regular restaurants?)? What if they want to eat it? Erin can make her own choices, I've no doubt about that. She knows the facts and I trust her judgement. Megan is getting there...but I don't think I want her making a choice in the heat of the moment, you know? Evan is only 20 months old. I'll be making his decision, thank you very much.

What we will probably do is eat healthy food before we go and then fill up on the soup (tomato bisque) and cheese and bread. Because, when it comes down to it and I have a piece of meat on my fork...I really don't think I could put it in my mouth.

Are you a vegetarian? Do you eat local meat? Would you consider local meat occasionally? Am I nuts to think it isn't just about the meat but about how the meat was raised and where it came from? (Answer: no, I'm not nuts, but I guess I'm trying to argue away the "just this once" voice that is talking to me....I hate that voice!)

Crazy Times!

2010-10-27T18:23:00.000-07:00

Sorry it has been so long since I have written. Our schedules have been quite crazy with visits, travels, getting kids to their activities, and now I'm starting a new job. Of course with all that going on, who has time to watch what the toddler is doing??

Don't call DHS just yet--I snapped the picture, got him down safely, and now the pantry door stays closed. He's fine, really!

It'll be okay....

2010-10-14T17:18:00.000-07:00

I've been using this book of writing prompts for Erin. It has quotes from famous people and usually she likes what they say and enjoys writing her take on it. Lately though, she hasn't wanted to and has, instead, been finding her own quotes from the Lord of the Rings series (which is her current obsession...though obsession seems too mild a word right now!). Then today she didn't want to do her writing at all so I just let it go. She did, however, want to play this cool math game we have been doing (while sipping hot chocolate) and we finished off the day with her Arts and Kids which is a musical theater group she is part of on Tuesday and Thursday. As we were leaving that, I said to her, "Gosh! You are really working hard in there!"

"Yes, I am working hard," she said, "And I think the teachers know it too. Sometimes when they think I'm not looking, I see them throw gleeful glances my way."

Then when I got home tonight, she showed me a short story she had written about her life as a mid-evil peasant child and having to go fishing before breakfast and start the fire and all that stuff. (So much for skipping writing today!)

So while I've been spending a lot of time and energy lately on exactly how to homeschool this little piece of starlight that has landed in our family, it is clear to me that it hasn't bothered her at all. She's been too busy learning about cool stuff....

Fear

2010-10-13T15:14:00.000-07:00

I don't want to parent out of fear. That is such an obvious statement but yet so many of us do this every single day. What are you talking about?? (Thanks for asking!) What I mean is the little things we do or don't do, allow or don't allow because we are afraid of what the future will bring. I don't mean things like not letting our toddler play in a busy street--fear for a child's absolute safety in a dangerous situation is different. I mean things like prematurely weaning a child because of the fear that if you don't do that, "they will nurse forever." (Anyone ever met a nursing adult? Teen? Preteen?) Or when people say they don't want to co-sleep because they are afraid that the child will "never" sleep on their own. (Again...anyone know any co-sleeping teens?) This is all fear-based parenting. Fear of the future is affecting your ability to meet your child's need today. Now, people who know me know that I nurse until the child is done, I co-sleep until the child is done, I do all those non-mainstream things to meet my children's needs. So, like my last post, I ask you--when does this or should this stop? Why should I stop meeting certain needs out of fear for the future?

Why am I forcing Erin to learn a certain subject at a certain time? Answer: because I'm afraid that if I don't, she will be different/a failure/unhappy...whatever the fear is at the moment. I have never approached my parenting from that perspective and yet I'm struggling to get the fear out of our homeschooling. Because, honestly, this feels different to me. Nursing until the child weans feels absolutely natural to me. And perhaps for someone who has been unschooling all their lives it doesn't feel any different at all. Maybe to them it feels just as natural as I feel for letting my toddler nurse anytime, anywhere. (And I know there are people who are not comfortable with that.) But here I am, thinking 15 years down the road and scared that if she doesn't do her three days a week of "official" math, she will end up a total failure or in jail or worse. Way to jump to conclusions, huh?

So the question becomes, which has a better chance of creating a happy, successful, (law abiding) citizen? Forcing math or letting her learn her own way? Is it somewhere in the middle? I just don't know....

I do know that leaves me with the same basic question I posted before...but my point is that I am more aware, now, of how some of these choices have been made out of fear and I simply don't want to do that. So I won't--starting now. Wish me luck.

I feel compelled to note that today, Erin did a homeschool science class, played for several hours at a local playground with a big group of homeschool friends, went to chess club and did more work on her middle ages weaponry. So it isn't like our days are in complete limbo as I mull this stuff over....

Rambling Thoughts

2010-10-07T11:34:00.000-07:00

What does it mean to be "authentically" happy? I've been thinking about this a lot lately, as we continue our homeschooling journey with Erin. People ask me how we do it and right now I say we do a mix of curriculum and unschooling. We use a math curriculum (a Montessori-based method with manipulatives and games and things) and we use a writing prompt book for her to keep a writing journal. All the other stuff--her book journal, her unit-based stuff, her fieldtrips, her extra-curricular classes..all of that is completely her choice. Now true UNschooling advocates say that what we are doing is not really unschooling because there are certain things she doesn't have a say in. We aren't living every moment of every day in a state of just "being." We aren't always in the present because sometimes we think about the future too. People who are advocates of what is called Radical Unschooling firmly believe that children learn so much if you just let them be--be in the moment, follow their present line of thinking, let them learn with what they are interested in when they are interested in it. And I believe them. I see Evan learning and living so much in every day. New words, new actions, new experiences...he is changing right before our eyes and watching it is a constant reminder of how kids do NOT have to be forced to learn and grow and mature. I did not teach him to walk...his natural desire to learn and test his little legs did that. I guided him, held his hand, applauded his efforts, comforted his bumps...but I didn't teach him.

So back to Erin.... At what point do you try to impose some level of standard on a child? Why do I trust Evan to learn what he wants when he wants it and not Erin? Should there ever be a point where you try to impose someone else's standards? (Unschooling advocates would argue that there should not be.) Example: Erin claims she "hates" math...when in fact it is simply because nothing up to this point has been the least bit challenging for her. Now that she is getting into parts that are making her think a bit, it is like pulling teeth to get her to try, try and try again. So should I force it? Get into a battle with her over it each time "math class" comes around? Should I let it go and try again in a few weeks? Should I let it go completely? Will she learn math simply by following her dreams? Does she even have to learn math? (And before you jump up and down yelling "YES! Of course she does!" I want to know what math she needs to learn that she wouldn't learn on her own if she wanted to know it--like she knows fractions pretty well from cooking, she is learning rhythm and music, she can add and subtract, likes grouping and is trying to figure out money...so does she specifically need to know about My Dear Aunt Sally in order to be happy in this life? And if it has to be forced on her, is it worth it?) How much of this is a result of thinking that was programmed into me from my own school experiences? How much time do I spend doing Geometry proofs now?? (Sorry, Mr. Luk!) What about that whole thing about trusting her to learn? Because she loves to learn stuff...just not necessarily the stuff that so many people and schools say she should be learning right now.

So then what about trusting her choices for how she spends her time? I mean, the day after we go to a library, you can just forget anything you wanted to accomplish--she will be reading all day. And I do mean ALL day. Is this a bad thing? Unschooling advocates say no--let her decide how she wants to spend her day. Me? I have a hard time seeing her sitting and doing nothing but reading. I mean, I wouldn't let her watch TV all day either--even educational TV--because you have to do more than just sit all the time. Am I right? Or am I imposing too many limits on her because she isn't matching my idea of what should be happening?

Just to be clear, I am NOT trying to train her for school right now. I am not interested in molding her to a public school model and forcing traits onto her that will make her successful if she ever decides to go to school. If she wants to go to school later in life, her desire to be there will be a big factor in helping her transition. I'm not worried about that. So what am I worried about? That is the question...what exactly do I want her to learn so badly that I'm willing to fight with her about it? Is it vital that she learn about polar regions? Or is it vital that she learn to sit and listen? Which one? Is it neither? What do I say to people who want to know what we are doing? And, on a more basic level, if we aren't doing "school" then how do we fill our days? Because cool, although seemingly random, science experiments and such can only take up so much time. Then what?

Add to this her need for a bit more structure in her life and you have one confused Mama! Her need for structure makes me want to schedule out her hours of the day so that she knows what is coming and what to expect...but if I plan a unit and she decides that isn't what she wants to do, then what?

So that's what I've been thinking about. I'd love your opinion on the subject...especially if you homeschool and especially if you unschool and even more especially if have unschooled for a number of years. I'm curious how it all works...because I'm definitely all about being in the "now" and being present with my kids. AND (not "but"), I worry about their future. What can I say--I'm a mom!

Fieldtrip

2010-10-01T16:32:00.000-07:00

Today Erin went on a geology fieldtrip with Chris. When they came home, Erin immediately began to sort through about 50 pounds of rocks that she had brought back. As she was doing that, Chris told me about her day spent rock-hopping the Maine coast with a bunch of geologists. "Did she learn anything?" I asked. He shrugged noncommittally, "I don't know, she was just going all day, not really stopping to listen." (Let's face it, she is 7 and she was with a bunch of professional geologists. *I* don't usually listen on those trips either!)

"Here, Mom!" Erin yelled as she took a beautiful black, white and red rock from the bag, "This one is for you! I liked it because of the feldspars in it. See? This is the feldspar and the white around it is because it cooled at a different temperature." (pause, pulling out another rock) "And look at this one--see the different color? Same mineral, different temperature. Oh, and I was able to identify some areas in the rocks today with different veins and tell which layers came first based on which veins were crossed over. I'm getting pretty good at that, I tell ya!"

Chris and I looked at each other..."Never mind," he said, "I guess she was listening!"

I think I may have lost this child to the geologists. Later, I taught Megan to say, "Whatever, Dad, they are just rocks!"

Stepping Out

2010-09-20T15:24:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like I can't be completely honest about things I'm thinking about. I often think I'm being judged or criticized for carrying such a deep sadness over the loss of my baby girl. Most of the time, when I'm out there in the world, I am a completely normal, functioning mother of "three." I homeschool, get children to various activities, play games, cook, clean, do laundry, read books, bandage small cuts, take out splinters, kiss noses, wash faces...you get the idea. There is nothing really to hide. But, like most Babylost Mamas, I see so clearly what isn't here, sometimes I need to stop, take a deep breath and...well, and do what many women need to do when they have some issues...I need to talk about it. But to who? This is where I can't always be honest with people. Many, if not most, of my friends have so fully moved on they think it strange when I mention her name. When I turn to Chris, he most often looks as me with the same glassy eyes I have. He simply nods, I know what you are thinking, he might say, I'm thinking the same thing...and then he'll look away. Sometimes neither of us can bear the hurt we see in the other person's eyes.

This past weekend was special in that we got to spend two days with my sister-in-law and her beautiful children, my nearly 3yo niece and 11mo nephew. The kids had a blast, running around the yard, playing in the sandbox, sharing clothes...my girls LOVE their cousins and my niece? Well, she adores the girls. She gets out of the car and instantly wants to know where they are and then she will follow them everywhere (to the point that Erin begins to tire of her--"Doesn't she ever stop asking questions??" she'll say. It is one of those moments that I wish Erin remembered being nearly 3 and full of endless questions!) On Saturday, one of those perfect fall days that Maine is known for, we went down to Acadia to ride bikes on the carriage roads and play in a beautiful stream. On the way back, my niece wanted to ride in our car with Erin, Megan and Evan, so we quickly moved her carseat to our van and happily drove off, singing silly songs all the way.

Sounds perfect, doesn't it? There I was, driving down the road and in my car were four blond children, aged 7, 5, nearly 3, and 1. Three girls and a boy. Hum...anyone else thinking what I'm thinking??? I looked at Chris. He looked at me. But really, what was there to say?

This burden that we carry is ours to carry--ours alone. We get that. I would give anything to be able to look at my niece and not think about where I was when she was born (months from my baby girl, a week from a miscarriage--joy all around, basically...). I would love to be able to talk to my sister-in-law about any of it, but this sadness has permeated its way into that relationship as well. (And it isn't like I don't understand her points--would you want to be the one who has to announce her pregnancy just before your niece's memorial service? Would you want to be raising the child who so clearly fills this other gap in the family but who is so unbelievably perfect and special in her own right that it becomes almost necessary to build an invisible wall between the families? Think about the position all this has put her in! I do not envy her shoes at all!)

So, without the ability to just say her name, here Chris and I sit, just outside the world in which we so easily function most days, watching that which continues to pass us by. That missing chunk of our family that seems so invisible to everyone else, that chunk of our heart that I birthed on a cold day in January three years ago, this we will carry with us when we step back into our lives and continue to move forward. But sometimes, sometimes, when I'm deep into the regular world, I just want someone with me when I step out to weep.

My Baby Is Growing Up

2010-09-19T15:36:00.001-07:00

So tonight when Erin was in the shower, I heard her say, "YES! I can do it!" When I asked her what she was doing, she replied, "MOM! At the homeschool co-op on Friday, Seamus taught me that if you put one hand under your opposite arm and then flap your arm up and down, it makes funny noises. I can do it! Listen!"

Ahhh...her first armpit farts. I'm so very proud of my baby girl. (And people say homeschooled kids are unsocialized--HA!)

Today's Homeschooling Group

2010-09-17T17:53:00.001-07:00

People often ask me what we do all day--is it really school? Well...probably not what most people think of as school, that's for sure. Today we went to a homeschool co-op meeting. We picked local corn, learned about local foods, ate a locally produced lunch. Then, we tromped down to the pond where the kids were instantly knee-deep in mud, catching water bugs and flinging mud-balls. They got cold, wet, dirty and, as you can see in the picture, completely filled with joy. Not bad for a day at school, huh?

Big Sister Part Two

2010-09-09T18:12:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry to anyone who read my post the other day and thought that I was taking away anything from Erin or putting her down in any way. She, too, is a fantastic big sister. She does a lot for Evan and is very helpful to me when I need a few minutes to shower or make dinner or whatever else I need to do that would be easier to do without him. She loves him a ton and enjoys reading to him and playing on the bed with him. The difference is that she is definitely playing at his level and it is clearly NOT her level--but there is a 6 year age difference here, so this should be obvious! While Megan loves to build sand castles for him to knock down, Erin builds them only for him to knock down...does that make sense? Anyway, despite this (or maybe because of it?) Evan has two wonderful big sisters and he loves them both. Just yesterday when Erin sat down to do her spelling words, Evan joined her. "ABs" he said, "ABs" (meaning, he wants to write his ABCs).

So here they are, both intently doing their homeschool work for the day--one because she had to and one because he simply wanted to be just like his big sister. And really, who can blame him?

Big Sister

2010-09-07T17:06:00.000-07:00

Megan is absolutely the best big sister I have ever known. Her patience and willingness to do the same thing over and over (and over) again with her baby brother is astounding. The kindness she shows him is tremendous and even when she gets frustrated or whiny at him, simply asking her what we can do to help usually fixes the problem. Now, I understand that Evan is lucky enough to have two big sisters and Erin does spend some time with him, but she is quick to abandon him to play with kids in the neighborhood or find a new friend at the beach--while Megan rarely does that. She loves building sand castles for him to knock down, she loves "reading" to him with all kinds of made up stories to go along with the pictures she knows so well. Her new favorite thing to do? Baseball--that thing I told you about the other day? They have been doing that every morning.

What does Megan get out of this deal? The undying love and complete devotion of one small toddler. And I mean complete devotion. Often "Megmeg" is the first word he says in the morning and he looks for her as soon as he is done nursing (assuming she isn't in bed with us already!) When she needs some time and space, she often has to ask us to literally detach the toddler from her shirt! It is not uncommon to find her playing with Legos or Lincoln Logs in a closet somewhere with the door shut. But all kids need their space, right?

All of this is the backdrop to the quote I'm about to share with you. See, Evan is learning to talk--a lot. So often words and phrases will be said and then Megan will say, "Evan...can you say [whatever it was]?" Usually this pretty sweet, like "Evan...can you say 'baseball'?" and will be rewarded with a toddler saying, "baaayball" Then Megan claps for him, he claps for himself and everyone laughs. Today Megan had Evan in the chair with her as she "read" to him from a lift-the-flap dinosaur book.

"Evan...can you say 'herbavore'?" "hbvowre" (I'm trying to spell toddler-speak here, not easy!)

"Evan...can you say, 'carnivore'?" "cnnvowre"

"Evan...can you say, 'flesh and blood'?" "feesh booood!"

Yeah! (clap clap!) Good job!

I'm so glad he has his big sister to teach him stuff!

Here they are together in their "Meguin" pjs (which is Megan and Penguin put together, in case you missed that)

It's Her Birthday

2010-09-04T17:02:00.000-07:00

Remember that friend I have who is dying of cancer? Today is her birthday. The fact that this is her last birthday is, at best, difficult to accept and, more aptly, so gut-wrenchingly unfair that I want to go to the top of the highest mountain and scream my objections to the universe until my face turns purple and I collapse in a heap of tears.

I can't wrap my brain around the very concept of her death, the whole idea of what the next few months will bring. I just don't know. I wish for very little pain and much peace for her, of course, but what about me? (I know, I know, this isn't about me...but in a way, it is...) Me? I'll still be here. Assuming I'm not killed in a random accident between now and then, I'll still be here. I'll be getting up every morning, breathing in and out all day, inhabiting my little space on this Earth...without her. How does that work, exactly? Will it affect my daily life? To be completely honest, probably not. My kids will still need to be fed, educated, hugged, kissed, etc. My husband will still need clean clothes, my dog will need his water dish refilled. My friend, who lives two hours away, has little to do with any of that stuff, you know? We no longer see each other on the daily or weekly basis that we used to when she lived closer. So in the abstract, my life will change very little.

But then there will be that moment. That moment that Evan does something really cute, or Erin says something funny or Megan draws yet another picture of Wally The Green Monster (Red Sox) and I'll pick up the phone...and she won't be around to call. What will I do then? I'm guessing that the first few times this happens, I'll simply sit down and cry--sob, really, and wish that things were different. I'll remember all the things I love about her, all the history we have together, all the love our family holds for her and I'll wish beyond possibility that things were different. Then I'll pick myself up, put the undialed phone down, and force myself back into my life. I'll move forward because, truth be told, that will be my only option. Oh, how I wish I weren't so well-versed in this routine.

Happy Birthday, my dear friend, I just don't know what else to say....

Habits

2010-09-02T06:34:00.000-07:00

I know it takes at least 2 weeks to start a new "habit" so I've been trying to be out running (or up exercising) by 7am every day. I went Sun, Mon, Tues and did yoga (to give my body a break) on Wed. Last night Evan was up a LOT and although he woke me to nurse at 5:40am, I just couldn't get myself out of bed (you know when your eyelids are closing as you are thinking, I should just get up). Now the thing is to try again and nail two weeks from tomorrow. That will mean running through a tropical storm on Saturday...which could be fun, don't you think?

The first day of school...not.

2010-08-31T16:07:00.001-07:00

It happened today...the big yellow school bus rolled down our street and all the school-aged neighborhood kids got on. All except mine, that is. For a brief moment, Erin stood looking at it, wondering about her friends, but then we loaded her bike up into the car and she came with me on my morning run. As we were driving down the street behind the bus, I saw the moms all standing on the curb waving good-bye to their kids and, I admit it, I felt a little pang of jealousy. Just a small one. See, those moms kind of get a break for today. A chance to do their thing, a chance to go shopping alone or maybe spend one-on-one time with a younger sibling. A chance to not have to be 100% "on" for the whole day. And yes, I admit, I would like that.

But we have chosen a different life. So off Erin and I went for our morning run and then since it was so hot I took the kids to the lake for a swim and picnic lunch which we followed up with ice cream. Yes, it is a different life and yes, sometimes I think the grass is greener elsewhere, but today was a good day. I wouldn't trade it.

Little Slugger

2010-08-30T06:08:00.000-07:00

This morning Evan went out to the garage, picked up a ball and bat and wouldn't rest until Megan was "pitching" to him. He would nick the ball slightly with the bat, go get the ball and throw it back to us. Then he would clap for himself and say, "YEAH!" So should I: (A) just be amazed that my little guy is getting so big or (B) start planning my multi-million dollar retirement estate that he'll buy us when he signs his first major league contract?

Definitely B....

Argh...bad day

2010-08-28T11:13:00.000-07:00

Some days parenting SUCKS. Here I am, the mom of a baby who died and I know all to well the feeling of despair and wanting a living child more than anything...I remember thinking that I'd never be around to watch Sophie throw a tantrum in the grocery store (silly thing, but there you have it). And now, for some reason, our family is going through some major issues and the tantrums are coming on hard and fast and all I can think about is what my life would be like without kids. Which, when you are the mom of a kid that never got to be a kid, is an awful thing to think about! But here it is: Megan is whining non-stop, Evan is not sleeping at all (therefore, neither are we) and Erin has these completely unreasonable outbursts on a semi-regular basis. When I sit back and think about it, it is all very age-appropriate...but when it all comes together in a Perfect Storm of emotion, I admit, I sometimes don't handle it well.

Take Erin, for example. Today we have been telling the girls for HOURS that we are heading over to a friend's house after lunch to help them with a house project. We made it clear that we were ALL going (i.e. she doesn't have the option to stay home) but that she had choices once there. She could sit and read, she could play outside or she could help. About an hour before we had to go, I suggested that if she wanted to help dig, she needed clothes that could get dirty. She did nothing. 30 minutes ago I suggested that if she wanted a book, she should get that. She did nothing. (Meanwhile, of course, Megan is completely not listening and playing naked in a mud puddle, but that is a different issue) So now it is time to go and we are asking her to get in the car. As usual, when faced with an absolute, she flung herself on the floor and shouted, "I'M NOT GOING! I REFUSE!" Now, if I were a good parent (as I am most of the time) I would use empathy, help her not feel so stressed about the time limit, talk about making better choices next time and yaddy yaddy yaddy. But not today. Today I took the relationship-destroying, I'm-out-of-patience-you-will-do-as-I-say-RIGHT-NOW route. Not so helpful. Now she is crying, I'm yelling and I know (as I'm yelling) that I'm doing the wrong thing. I know this, deep deep down...I get it. And know what? I can't help it. Because sometimes, I'm just mad.

Megan is the same thing--she is 5, about to start school again, feeling a little disconnected from her surroundings. So when she gets into a fit about something, and starts to whine or whatever, we try to hold her, cuddle her, give her some extra attention. Lately, she has thrown fits over EVERY LITTLE THING. It is very, very trying. Even on good days. Last night I found myself arguing with her. Actually trying to make a point while she was flailing about on the floor. Again, not a great parenting moment...because let's face it...she probably didn't get my point.

So where does this leave me? I find myself with reasons for all of it--Chris has been working far too hard lately and classes start next week for him, so he's stressed about to his limit. We are having major issues with our girls playing too much with the kids in the neighborhood with whom we do not share many similar values. This means we are working very hard to keep them happy and entertained at home--which can be a challenge--or we try to go somewhere with them to keep them away from the house--also a challenge. Me? Well, I'm sleep deprived from Evan's needs (normal, nothing I can do about it) but there is so much more weighing on me. I'm supposed to start a job this fall and I'm not sure where to find an extra 20 hours a week for that, I'm not feeling prepared to home school this year (though I'm sure I am), and, to top it off, I have that good friend I told you about who is dying of cancer. She is nearing the point where more care will be necessary and it all just scares me and upsets me and makes me want to scream at everyone all the time. Who gets the brunt of that? Yup...my wonderful husband and my phenomenal, albeit occasionally annoying, children. My children, who in truth, could not be expected to handle this family stress any better than they are doing and who look to me to know how to handle set-backs. Know what, kids? This isn't how you handle set-backs. Find another role model while I go take a hot shower and wish there was a way to do today all over again...the right way.

Off On Vacation

2010-08-12T19:03:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't posted a bunch here lately. I've got all kinds of ideas for posts rolling around in my head, but things here have been very busy and I haven't had a chance to really get them out and organized into coherent works. Now I'm busy packing up my family for our week out on Smuttynose Island (look up Isles of Shoals if you are interested). One week with my family and no phone or internet access...just some fun games, some good books and beautiful sunsets every night. A nice way to round out the summer. Maybe I'll have something deep and meaningful when I get back--or at least some good pictures!

This One Is Gross--Sorry!

2010-08-05T10:47:00.000-07:00

This morning Evan used the potty--really really. He had a bit of pee come out on the floor and then he said, "PEE!" and ran to the potty and peed in it. Not bad for a 17mo old! (Don't worry, I'm not even thinking of really "training" him right now!) Anyway, a bit later, Chris takes the kids swimming for a few hours. When they got home I was in the kitchen making lunch and Evan was just wandering around naked, munching on whatever he could find in the snack cabinet. Chris came inside and picked up the little guy and Evan began to tell us what he wanted for lunch (more blueberries). All of a sudden, we hear this splashy sound and I look down to figure out what Chris had just dropped that made a sound like that. You guessed it! Projectile poop from the little guy whose bum-bum was hanging over Chris's arm. It was on Erin's blankie (which is now in the wash and I'm hoping will dry before Erin knows it is missing!), all over the floor and (my favorite), the dog.

Then Megan said, "What's for lunch?" as she came into the kitchen.

Ahhhh the joys of parenthood! Definitely one of those times that you just have to laugh and know that, as Erin's science teacher often says, "It all comes down to pee and poop!"

Megan says...

2010-07-27T08:38:00.000-07:00

So the other day Megan says to me, "Mommy, I'm sorry about this morning...I really fell off the end of my rope."

Portfolio Review

2010-07-22T10:11:00.000-07:00

Today Erin's portfolio was reviewed by a certified teacher. All that is left is for us to send the letter she signed this morning with the form that says we intend to homeschool again and we'll be all set. Erin is officially in 2nd grade. Though the teacher looking through her stuff this morning was joking that we should do 5th grade with her--but I think we'll stick to second for now.

I remember this time last year--how apprehensive I was and how scary the whole homeschool "thing" seemed. I had schedules, unit plans, curriculum, joined homeschool groups and even turned the guest room of our house into a classroom. I have white boards here, a computer, bookshelves, educational posters, and a small classroom desk. It is beautiful...but as I was going through the portfolio with our certified teacher this morning, I realized how very little of our time was spent in this room, following those schedules or using that curriculum. Where were we? We were outside doing time lines in chalk on our street, we were at the library, we were building models and painting, reading and playing games. We were visiting museums, learning chess, going to theater classes and planting gardens. In short, we were living our life as it unfolded every day. It was awesome!

As I begin planning for next year, I have to laugh at the person I was a year ago. I smile when people ask me if we "school all year or take the summer off." Because life is our school. In June, I went to a curriculum sale, just to see what they had (and to have lunch with a friend and spend some time away from the kids...I admit!) and while there, I found a Usborne First Latin Dictionary. Erin spent most of the next two weeks labeling everything in our house in Latin. Yes, school was "out" and yes, we had finished her portfolio, but there she was, still learning and enjoying it. School is never "out" for us. There are days I count and days I don't for the purpose of reporting to the state, but school is never out.

This way is not for everyone--I have a dear friend who desperately needs the days planned out--and it may not be for us forever. But for now, it is great. Our goals this year are to incorporate more contact with the caring adults in her life. Time with grandparents, aunts and uncles and close friends are all on the docket. I'm excited to see what she will learn from them and what cool dynamic these unique relationships will bring to her life.

If you had asked me when she was born if I was going to homeschool, I would have laughed hysterically. Not me, I would have said, not my kid! Oh how things change!

Update

2010-07-18T18:52:00.000-07:00

Some people have been asking for a quick update, so here you go. Erin finished up theater camp with her heart very much intact. We continued to pick her up early for the rest of the week and the director made a huge effort to head off problems before they started. The final performance was fantastic and Erin delivered her lines clearly and confidently. She is eager for more theater experience. In fact, having recently found out that the youth group is doing The Hobbit in the spring, she has set about trying to memorize the book. Because I'm sure that the play will be word-for-word out of the book...and if it isn't, I'm sure Erin will need to tell people exactly where things are different! (Now what director wouldn't want that kind of help??)

Theater Camp

2010-07-06T13:00:00.000-07:00

Erin is doing a great camp right now--a theater camp that she is working very hard at. She plays several roles, including Nod, the pirate and in a different scene, she is one of the "extra" oysters. She loves the acting and the art class and the teachers. She is, however, having a hard time with some of her peers. "I can't describe it," she tells me, "They treat me like I'm different." Not all, mind you, but some. And here is the thing--she is different. She doesn't watch TV so she knows none of the same shows or characters the other kids do. (And the ones she does know probably seem kind of babyish to the other kids.) She doesn't have a cell phone or any video games. She loves hiking and biking and reading--things many her age won't admit to even doing, much less liking. What makes her really different, however, is our choice to homeschool. A choice that she has come to identify with very deeply and a choice that she continues to say she loves and "never" wants to do differently. She simply isn't used to be in a building all day with a regimented schedule (dance/movement from 9-10, acting class from 10-11:30, Art from 11:30-12:30, Lunch until 1, rehearsal from 1-3, closing workshop from 3-3:30). And she really isn't used to be judged based on what she is wearing, reading, or who she is hanging out with.

The result? She comes home in tears from being so tired and from not having gotten outside all day. She comes home upset because she wasn't able to get her favorite color marker ("The other kids formed a circle around the box and some of us couldn't get through.") She comes home not wanting to play the circle games because "the other kids don't give me a space in the circle." Last week it just built up and built up (with me knowing little about it because she was trying to maintain a happy attitude about it all) until Friday when she was sobbing all the way home. Saturday she wanted nothing to do with going anywhere (not even the Farmer's Market) and on Sunday we had to force her to go kayaking with us. Force her. Not cool.

By Sunday night, she was done. The idea of going back to camp on Monday was too much for her. At first I wanted to take the traditional Parental Responsibility route--you know the one, "You have made a commitment to the play and we have paid a lot of money for you to do this and you promised to see it through and blah blah blah..." but as I listened to my baby girl, I couldn't say those things to her. My child who talks like she is 15 and is really only 7, was in trouble and all the money or responsibility in the world was not going to help her unless I connected with her. I needed to be a safe place in her currently very scary and confusing world. "What do you want to do tomorrow?" I asked. She wanted to go through with the show, but didn't want to go to camp. We made a list of things that could get her through the week. But the next morning, she wanted to do none of them and was back to a sobbing mass. There was no way I was going to drag her to camp that day.

I had to go down there anyway because Megan is doing a program for younger kids at the same place. I took the opportunity to speak to the director who was shocked that any of this had taken place. "I know," I said, "Erin is very good at hiding it all. She does not want you to know anything is ever wrong." The director wrote me a note to give to Erin, inviting her to rehearsal that afternoon, just to talk. Erin accepted that invitation and ended up having a pretty good afternoon. I stayed just outside the room and she could see me the whole time. She went back again today and I was there all morning, going back and forth between her classes and Megan's class (with a 1/2 hour jaunt across the street to the museum with Evan). Daddy picked her up early this afternoon and now she is home with me. She didn't want to go for a swim up at Mud Pond (normally a favorite spot) and we are respecting her need to just be home. Tomorrow if she wants a half day again, we'll do that. Whatever she needs to get through the week with her heart intact.

Where am I going with this? A handful of people have said to me, "This wouldn't happen if she went to school." What they mean is that either she would 1) be immune to the teasing or 2) know how to cope better with these kids who are simply, "acting like kids." And I guess I'm so horrified by these comments I don't really know what to do. First, I don't WANT my kid "immune" to the teasing! I can't imagine living with the Erin who has been coming home from camp--the one who cries at the drop of a hat, the one who is so tired she can't think, the one who doesn't get to go outside and when she could, the one who simply doesn't want to go anywhere at all! If that is the price of "immunity" then no thank you. And as for the second reason--I have no words. Maybe these kids are acting like kids...but that should NOT be the way kids act! Blowing it off as if it is simply "reality" is stupid. It shouldn't be reality, and until more people realize that and change it, more kids will act like that and even more kids will be the victims of it. I have no intention of fixing the problem by throwing my kid into the middle of it and saying, "good luck!"

So back to the camp...today is Tuesday and she had a good day. Now that the teachers are aware of it, they are doing a great job heading off problems before they occur. Erin is getting more personal attention from the director and more pats on the back for her ideas. Tonight the girls are sleeping in a cooler basement, so hopefully they will sleep better and feel rested. We will work things out one day at a time until Friday when we will give her the biggest hug for holding herself together, being true to herself and her values, and doing a great job this week. Saturday we'll rest all day and Sunday I'm hoping for my baby girl back--heart and all.

Darn It

2010-07-01T17:38:00.000-07:00

I just heard Erin yell at her brother, "DAMN IT, EVAN!" When I went outside to investigate and find out where she had learned that phrase, I found out she was actually yelling, "DAM IT, EVAN!" They were making a river down the driveway from the runoff and it was going the wrong way and she needed Evan's help to divert it.

So that's okay, right?

Boys and Girls

2010-06-30T17:43:00.000-07:00

Perhaps this has happened to you--you are in a store or at a playground or whatever and someone makes a comment about your family structure, however your structure is. For example, my friend Karen who has two boys followed by a girl, often gets comments like, "Oh--you finally got a girl!" as if "getting" a girl was the whole point of having children in the first place. I often get the opposite; I "finally" got a boy. Usually I can just smile and nod--there is no need to point out that my "finally got" was actually four years, one stillbirth and two miscarriages later. We didn't finally get a boy, we finally got a living, breathing, healthy baby to add to our family. There is a big difference! Now, of course, sometimes...just sometimes...when the person saying it is particularly irritating or being snide, I'll tell them the whole truth. "At least you finally got a boy this time," they'll say. "Actually, since our last baby died, we were simply hoping for living this time." I know, it is petty and mean, but it shuts them up and, like I said, I only use that line when someone has really ticked me off.

Anyway, now that I "finally have a boy" people are always asking me about the differences between the girls and Evan. To be honest, I think most of the differences I have noticed thus far are due to different personalities and birth order. Erin was also a very high energy, excited, climbing, little bundle of trouble...but the difference there was that when she was this age, she was an only child. One kid, two parents. We didn't realize how easy we had it! Evan, on the other hand, is often found in something, on something or up something--is this because he is a boy or because, frankly, we aren't always paying attention? Who knows.

He does have a strong affinity for Daddy's lawn mower. He likes to climb on it and sit at the wheel. When I can't find Evan, I always check the garage--he's probably on the tractor! Is it because he's a boy? Does the Y chromosome carry some kind of tractor magnet on it? I have no idea. But he loves that tractor...almost as much as he loves pushing dolls in the pink baby stroller.

What's In A Name?

2010-06-28T14:37:00.000-07:00

As you can imagine, pregnancy is a time of great joy and anticipation for most families. Is it a boy? A girl? Will she have his eyes? Will he have her hair? Couples pick out color schemes for the perfect nursery, buy clothes and cloth diapers and probably even a toy or two. Can you remember that time? Can you remember all the things you wanted to give your baby?

When your baby dies, you get to give them one thing--a name. I will never forget the conversation I had with my dear friend, Carol, when we were talking about this very thing. Carol found out that her daughter was not alive a few hours before she was born. Between the time they found out and the time she was born, Carol admitted to her husband that she didn't want to "use up" the name they had picked out. It was her absolute favorite name and, in that void between being a mom, not really knowing what it is to be a mom and hold your baby, and the knowledge that her baby was not alive...well, she was understandably confused about using the name. But her husband stood firm and told her that this baby was the same baby they had named when she was alive, and that was who she was*. There was no doubt about it, the baby who was born was fully their daughter--their beautiful and perfect baby girl. Her name is Charlotte.

Sophie got her name in a different way--see, I have always wanted a little girl named Kathryn. Not sure why, but every time I got to name a girl, we never ended up on Kathryn. Chris wasn't into the "K" names for a while (they are/were so popular!) and the middle names we had picked out didn't seem to fit. But when I found out I was pregnant for the third time, I said to Chris, "If this is a girl, we will name her Kathryn." There was no doubt about it. But, of course, that isn't how things went. As things got worse that weekend, the last thing on our mind was what to name her--we were thinking more how to save her. And then it happened--all that emergency stuff I don't really like to talk about. It was during all that that I have this one memory--a memory so strong that when I close my eyes and think about it, I can remember the room, where everyone was, who was there, what it smelled like...but I was lying on the table and in front of me there was a little white baby. She was in profile, like you might see in an ultrasound picture, but she wasn't fuzzy or anything--she was perfectly clear. And very white, surrounded by a blackness that blocked out everything but her brightness. I won't say I was talking to her, but we were definitely communicating. As I'm writing this, I realize how crazy it sounds and how strange it all must seem to someone who didn't experience it first hand. So I'll skip it all and tell you that after our "communication" she floated away and under her profile, in the same bright light, were the words, Sophia Anne.

When I awoke some time later, I knew she was gone. My husband was there, holding my hand and I looked at him and said, "We are going to name her Sophia Anne." He just nodded (as if you would ever argue with a woman who has been unconscious!)

Months went by and I could not shake the guilt I felt for not naming her Kathryn. I mean, after all, what made her any less worthy of the name? If she had lived, that would have been her name...so why could I not bring myself to use it in death? Carol, similarly, feels some sadness at not being able to really use the name Charlotte--I mean, she never gets to yell across a playground, "Come on Charlotte, let's get home for dinner." or "Charlotte! Clean your room!" So in her mind, she also didn't get to use it the way she wanted (no duh!) Friends of mine who are devout say that I didn't name Sophie, God did, in that "vision" I had. Maybe. Like I said, I know what I experienced and I know how crazy it all sounds...but maybe.

So what does it come down to? Basically that neither Carol or I got what we wanted (obviously) and we both wrestle with this. But we both had these baby girls and we both got to give them one thing--a name. Charlotte Amelia and Sophia Anne. Beautiful names for two beautiful girls.

Imagine my surprise today when Erin came home from her first day at Theater Camp and said she had two new best friends--Charlotte and Sophia. So I ask you--what's in a name?

* Carol, forgive me if I'm paraphrasing in a way that isn't exactly true to your story.

Table Manners

2010-06-22T17:28:00.000-07:00

We have always suggested to the kids that "No Elbows On The Table" is good manners, but not sure how to break the news to Evan. Though I'm thinking in a few years he won't be able to bend like that.....and in fairness, those aren't his elbows.

Summer Lists

2010-06-21T13:01:00.001-07:00

Today the girls and I made a list--each day this summer we need to do:

Something Fun: This is self-explanatory

Something Kind: like to keep the house going--tidy a room, set the table, vacuum, put clothes away...things like that

Something Quiet: I said I put this on the list for Evan, but let's face it, it's for me too!

Something "Educational": which has a VERY broad definition, so that will be fun too, probably!

Anyway, today Erin was making our check-list, to make sure we hit everything. Something fun? We went to the playground. Something quiet? Erin read, Megan colored, I read and Evan napped. Something Educational? Erin wrote our list, Megan read a National Geographic Kids and the book I'm reading is very educational. Evan is always learning, so he kind of gets a free square here. We got to the part about something kind and Erin said, "I helped with the diapers." (This is true.) Megan said, "I'm helping make dinner!" (Also very true.) Evan was very cute, which we decided was kind to all of us. "Mom," Erin says, "what have you done kind today?" "Well, I washed the diapers, vacuumed the floor, made dinner, folded clothes, arranged a playdate for you two, filled up the pool...." "MOM!" she interrupted, "I'm only willing to write ONE thing, so pick ONE!"

Does this mean for the rest of the summer I can make the bed and call it good? I wonder.....

Some pics

2010-06-20T18:59:00.000-07:00

I wanted to put in some pictures of our trip--this one shows pretty well where we were--edge of the bay in the land of Thirty Thousand Islands. You can see why it is named that! Near as I can figure out, we were there looking at the interface between the pink rocks and the black rocks (see the bands on the island behind her?). We spent a lot of time sampling those two kinds of rocks....

Evan, of course, took careful notes!

Erin was ready to swim at all times!

Hey...a man has to eat, right?? Here is a picture of the black rocks we were looking at, with a nursing mom for scale (geologists like to have things for scale in their pictures!)

Has this ever happened to you? (UPDATED--I forgot one part)

2010-06-17T15:46:00.000-07:00

So today Chris needed to go back to one island he didn't get to yesterday because of the wind and rain (the "seas" were too high to land the boat). We loaded everyone up in the boat for one last adventure out here and headed out. The sun was shining, the winds were light and everyone had gotten a good amount of sleep the night before (except me, but let's face it, it would take a miracle for a Mama to get enough sleep, right?). Positive vibes were everywhere and it was going to be a beautiful day!

We get onto the island and begin exploring when BLAM--Erin falls on a rock and skins her knee pretty well. While Chris is running back to get the first aid kit, he nearly falls into the water on a loose rock. As I fix Erin up (this process involved duct tape even!), Chris begins to get his samples--then Megan yells, "I have to go poop!" (we are on an island of ROCK here). Chris puts down his hammer and helps her to a place that would do the least ecological damage (there was just enough soil to bury it--and no, I don't want to get into a debate about burying vs. carrying...we've researched this issue thoroughly and make our choices based on our surroundings). Erin decides her knee hurts too much so she goes back to the boat to wait while Chris begins to pound again on the sample. I'm in a small rock pool with Evan when both Chris and I hear, "HELP!" Chris drops his hammer and races to the boat on the other side of the island. I race to find Megan who was hanging from a rock, unable to get up or down. I help her and Chris comes back with Erin who has decided to come help. He goes to get his sample. As the girls are coming to join me, Chris is yelling at Chester because, you guessed it, he's over eating Megan's poop. Suddenly Megan yells, "MOM! EVAN!" I turn around and less than 5 feet from me is my toddler, face down in the knee-deep puddle, slipping and sputtering, unable to get his footing (don't call DHS, folks, I had turned my back for a millisecond--he wasn't really in danger of drowning). I jump over a rock and pull him out (he's fine!) while Megan falls and gets her ankle wedged between some rocks. Now Evan is crying because he is saturated and cold, Megan is crying because her ankle hurts, Erin is limping over rocks with duct tape on her knee and Chris STILL hasn't gotten his samples. I took Evan's clothes off and dried him off. While I'm attending to Megan, Erin is labeling samples for Chris (see? We ARE helpful!) and I turn to look at Evan and guess what? Yup...he's back in the big puddle, totally naked and happy as a clam. Guess what else? Yup, he pooped in it.

So THEN, Chris finished getting his samples (after, of course, cleaning the poop out of the water), we all went back to the boat, and we all lived happily ever after .

Until dinner time when the kids all started to whine. This was followed by packing time because we are headed home tomorrow...and, of course, packing means the arrival of Packing Man (who looks a lot like my husband, but he's focused on one thing and one thing ONLY)

Island Update

2010-06-15T12:59:00.001-07:00

Summary:

Megan is Explorer Girl, sitting in the bow of the boat with her face in the wind and her blond curls blowing around. Landing on an island, she is first to jump out and point out the shapes of the rocks and find the best swimming hole.

Erin is Cautious Girl, sitting low in the boat so it won't rock too much, making sure the anchor is tightly wedged in the rocks before setting off and then laughing as she leaps from rock to rock, finding just the right place to collect treasures.

Evan is Daddy's Little Geologist, following him with "Dada, Dada, DADA!" and of course, his new favorite, "boatboat" (said as one word).

All are enjoying life on the island! I'll try to supplement this post tonight with pictures.

The Geologists

2010-06-13T15:24:00.000-07:00

So it turns out we have a weak internet signal from the "boathouse" which, near as I can figure out, is the red roofed building across the channel there. It is actually only a boathouse, with the main house being hidden behind some trees. It appears to be the only house on that island and their boathouse is bigger than our house...so I'm also guessing they have more money than we do. But thank you for the internet anyway!

The drive worked out. The first part went just as planned--Evan slept and the girls watched a video. The second part went very well too, except the brakes on the car began to fail and make a horrid grinding sound. I was driving and I'm not a very good driver with a trailer on the car, so I was getting nervous. After two hours, when we had to do a detour through a city because of an accident on the highway, I stopped and Chris had to take over again. He down-shifted his way through red lights and back onto the highway. We were a bit late stopping for dinner because of the detour, but the kids were fine. The traffic in Montreal was at a standstill, so we got off and went to a grocery store with a large yard on the side and had some dinner. The kids ran around in the grass and we changed them into pjs. By 9pm, all were asleep (despite the girls' desire to "for once in their lives" stay up until midnight--didn't happen, go figure!) We stopped at a hotel for the night.

Yesterday we got up and drove for a few hours with the brakes getting worse. We stopped for lunch and then went to a grocery in Parry Sound to get food for the week while Chris went and bought brake pads. Not sure when he'll go back into the marina to put those on, but it has to be done before we head home. Anyway, when we stopped for lunch, Evan had his first mishap of the trip, falling from a play structure onto some gravel. He's got a good case of "road rash" on his face...poor guy! We got here about 4pm yesterday and Chris went back for the second trip while the kids played happily out on the deck which overlooks the water. By 6:30 we were all fed and by 7:30 everyone was asleep--even Evan which is practically a miracle in itself.

Today we were honorary geologists and "helped" Chris with his work. Of course by help I usually mean things like asking a million questions while following close behind, stopping him to beg (over and over again) if someone could jump into the water from this rock or maybe this one, pointing out (over and over again) that maybe this rock is the kind he is looking for, or no, maybe this one, or no, this one, "over here, Daddy!!" "NO! Over here!" "No, wait, over HERE!" and, of course, finally, "Daddy, are we done yet??" (This is clearly the most helpful, so the girls did this one a lot!) Me? I kept the toddler from falling into the water. And yes, that is pretty much all I did and no, you cannot comment unless you have actually ever attempted this on islands that are sheer, algae-covered, rock faces down into the frigid water.

Of course, at one point while Chris changed Evan's diaper, because I am VERY helpful, I took the hammer and, in only a few minutes, got nearly twice as many rock samples as he had gotten all day! I even wrote random numbers on them with the sharpie marker (just like he does--though perhaps his numbers aren't random), drew arrows on them (just like he does--I'm not sure why he does this) and packed 'em all in the bucket with his other samples. See? I'm really a good geologist.

Now the kids are with him, walking on the other side of the island and I'm getting the house ready for bed. (Okay, I'm actually writing this blog post, but that is what he thinks I'm doing...well, he knows me pretty well and he probably doesn't think that at all!)

Seriously though, if this (island-hopping in a boat on bright sunny days on a beautiful lake while staying in a cute little cottage) is what my husband has been getting paid to do for the past three summers, I urge you all to get a job as a geologist...it's pretty cushy!

We're Off

2010-06-10T17:09:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I'm getting in the car with a husband, a dog, and three kids and driving to Parry Sound, Ontario...14 hours away. Should be interesting! Chris has wanted to take us out to do field work with him for years, but it has been one thing or another every time. 2007...well, that was obvious why we didn't go. 2008 he went early, when Megan and Erin were still in school. He was actually in Ontario when I found out in June of 2008 that I was pregnant with Evan (which, after all our losses, was news that definitely brought about a bit of anxiety). Last year, with our trip to VA, we just couldn't swing much more time in the car with the kids, so he went without us again. Now here we are, our 4th summer here and finally, finally, we are all heading out there to "help".

14 hours.... Here's how we hope to break it all down: Tomorrow at noon, Megan will get out of school and we'll all head off. Evan will sleep for a good chunk and the girls can watch a video. Three hours later, we'll stop for bit and walk around, maybe play in a stream or something. The next three hours, everyone will need some entertainment. Grammy sent a box of cool things to do, so we'll probably break that out. I'll sit in the back and read to Evan, maybe play some card games with the girls, that kind of thing. At 6:30 or so, we'll stop for a late dinner (late for us, anyway) and put the kids in their pjs after a run around at a playground or something. After that, Chris and I can drive until we just can't drive anymore and then we'll stop at a hotel at 11 or 12 or even 1 if we can. Then the next morning we'll only have 3 or so hours to go!

That's the plan anyway...but as anyone traveling with kids knows...what will happen will happen. And we'll get there eventually, hopefully still happy and loving towards each other! And then we have a week on a beautiful lake with a boat and a rock hammer. Is there anything better than having a boat and a rock hammer? Really?

Yes, folks, this is why I married a geologist. I'll see you in a week!

Do you really reap what you sow?

2010-06-08T07:12:00.000-07:00

I hope sow (threw that in for my Father-in-law)! There has been a LOT of sowing around here lately! We have a new back garden, complete with bean "hideouts" for the kids (obviously not very useful as hideouts just yet). Also squash, tomatoes, bush beans, some herbs and brussel sprouts (which I just learned is supposed to be brussels sprout...but that would mean there should be an apostrophe, wouldn't it??) Oh, and we started some raspberries too...but that will be a year or so before they get going. We'll put in a few more plants every year until we have two rows behind this garden.

We moved all the strawberries out of Sophie's garden and have a TON of peas coming up in our front garden (plus carrots, beets, cucumbers, squash and green garlic). We also put an asparagus patch in that center part this year. I've wanted to do this for years but kept putting it off due to my lack of patience and annoyance that it takes so long to get one established. (You don't have to tell me that if I had put one in three years ago when we moved here, I'd have an established patch by now...I already know this!)

And we replanted our side garden with basil. This garden is a cold frame in the winter and it has been giving us spinach and carrots since March! Now we have tomatoes, peas, beans and basil in there! Oh, and that far side is another asparagus patch...we like asparagus around here!

Hopefully we'll have a good crop this year. This, combined with our CSA delivery, should make for a very local summer and fall. We are also now members of a buying club that is helping us get local flour, crackers, and a few other things we often end up buying "from away." I think our dairy habit will be the only thing keeping us at our neighborhood grocery store. We drink a lot of milk and eat a lot of cheese. We are going to contact a local cheese maker we know and check out the price--if we can decrease how much cheese we eat, we might be able to afford getting that locally as well. Of course that is the other part of all this--I'm feeding a family of 5 on $80-$100 a week. As much as we want to get ourselves of the horrid, disastrous, industrial food chain that this country has created, the bottom line is that it is a LOT cheaper...orders of magnitude cheaper. I know, I know, it is subsidized and not "cheaper" when you put together all the costs of our tax dollars, the costs to our health, shipping costs and environmental costs...but at the cash register, when it is all added up, it is cheaper. And that is a major problem! (but a topic for a different blog...)