Good Enough

So I think I’ve mentioned, (and if I haven’t shame on me)  the little but growing bigger every day community that we started after BlogHer. It is Seattle Mom Blogs, and although most of you are not from the Northwest I’m going to be writing a column for them called Northwest Night Lights. I’m more than just a little excited about this! 

People, do you realize what this means? This means concerts, theatre, little dives, and great bands! I am more than excited to do the research that this column will require. So even if you aren’t from these parts, I know music is universal, and who knows maybe you’ll be inspired to start venturing out yourself! So please join me in my upcoming adventures.   

When you look at this house what do you see?

I see memories.

Memories of my family of eight, watching as the sewage system was put in. Standing in awe as the framework of the house went up. Gleefully sweeping sawdust from the empty plywood floor of what would eventually become my room. Amazed as the house began to take shape, and the insulation went in, sheet-rock went up, floors were laid, and paint sprayed the walls. This house became our dream home. We each had a part in it.

Could we have seen then how our lives took shape in this beautiful house? Beginning as children and then growing into adults. This house sent many of us out into the world, and welcomed us back in again when we began to fail.

That room in the upper right corner saw the dreams of a stubborn young girl. It saw her dance, sing and study ( a very little.) It saw her attempts at sneaking out. The mother of the house always seemed to know and catch her. It saw her fall in love for the very first time. It received many odd visitors throughout her high-school years.  It witnessed her throwing her stuff in trash bags in a fury of shame and moving out. She did not want to bring disgrace to this home.

This house and those in it saw her come home again. A different girl. A broken girl.

I love this house. There are not enough words to tell all that transpired here.  This house was built with so much love, as was the family that dwelt in it.

I love my family. The one that my husband and I have built, and the one that built me.

As much as I wanted to escape this place growing up, I know how blessed I was. And I couldn’t help wanting to return, but it is no longer ours to return too. We are building our own house now. Building will start within the year. I can’t help but remember this sweet house that weathered 6 strong willed children. In some ways I would love for my own children to experience this place, and I’m also grateful for a new beginning. I can’t see how my children will grow in their new home. I can only hope they might be a little less willful, and a little more humble. But I won’t be holding my breath.    

The storm never came

Blissfully watched The Office

I must shower now 

YOU’RE TURN!

People are scared…you can cut the tension in the eerily quiet air. I went to the gas station and waited as people fill up gas can upon gas can…every once in awhile the power will flicker as a reminder of what’s to come.

Last year I stayed up all night reading. The wind was so loud I thought the house would tear apart. There was a loud metal snap on the south side of the house…whatever had broken scraped against the wall all night, making the storm sound even worse.

I’ll keep everyone posted as long as I’m able…keep your fingers crossed for me.

On a lighter note, my kids argue every morning at the breakfast table. It’s their ritual. This morning I put up cereal boxes as a barricade. They weren’t able to see eachother. I finally achieved quiet at the breakfast table! Woohoo!

People, I’ll say goodbye now in case you don’t hear from me for a few days. I storm is predicted for tomorrow night. A big one. If it’s anything like last years storm it will render us powerless for 7 days. 7 days. 7 days. Last December I had the longest week of my life. No running water. No heat.

This year will be different. This year we have a generator. This year my house is clean instead of the typhoon that existed before the storm.

I purchased batteries for all of the flashlights, and we have milk and ice to pack any cold food in that should last us for a few days. And I have friends this year. Friends that I can commiserate with while our children play in dark rooms together. So come on storm…show us what you’ve got.

Mondays are rough…Mondays have the misfortune of landing on a day of the week where schedules have to be resumed, and lives have to be managed. I hate Mondays.

There are two ways to hate a Monday…the “Monday that comes after an amazing weekend, had a wonderful time and don’t want this happy bubble to burst type of loathing” Mondays. Or there is the “had a lonely, unproductive, house is trashed, start the week out with low spirits and tornado aftermath damage control” no good Monday.

If I’m playing Polyanna, as I often attempt to do, then at least I had the former. I had an amazing weekend. The only thing that would make it euphoric is if I had a cleaning team come through and do the dirty work I was to busy funning to do.

My house is trashed because I was having fun. That’s what I’ll tell any visitors or landlord’s that decide to stop by. 

Friday Mr.Good decided ( with my help) to take a long overdue day off to make up for all the three day weekends in which he left me home crying. In all seriousness, I know he didn’t want to go to work either, but leave it to me to take it personally. So Friday was his big three day weekend of the year. To celebrate, I left him home alone with the children for most of the day.

Don’t be a hater, I had plans people! Big big plans! I had last minute details to attend to, because that night was the first get together for our little with big potential blog site. Maybe you noticed it, or heard about it around town? I have to say, the women who blog on the site are amazing! Maybe it’s because I had more time to get to know them individually, but I had more fun here than any party BlogHer threw. I wanted to stay all night. I wanted to find some late night greasy diner and take these women with me. I did not want this night to end. I will say that my friend Kathryn cushioned the blow of arriving home by demonstrating her personal interpretation of The Young Ambassador’s. Very entertaining, and I wish you all could see it. Although I arrived home shortly after midnight, I was not able to sleep until 2am. And when I awoke the next morning I had this weird adrenaline buzz that lasted all day which made me say “Housework? What housework?” And forced my family out into the blinding sunlight which we hadn’t seen in weeks. We played all day. Then I went on a date with Mr. Good, Sunshine Girl, and her spouse. Sunday we spent at my parents and ate the three layer birthday cake I bought for myself. 

Do you see why today is such a disappointment? The sky’s are now covered with gray again, Mr.Good has gone back to work, the children’s moods mirror mine. We are all grumpy and I’m going through sugar withdrawals since I was practically pumping it intravenously last week. What can I say.

I hate Mondays.

My children have decided the best gift they could give me was them having fevers on my birthday…at 12:05 Missy woke up screaming. Of course I sent Mr.Good in. It was my for real birthday when the clock changed to 12:01. He came back and said she was burning up. After Motrin, water, and another episode at 2:30 to use the toilet she slept for the rest of the night. When I went to get Bubba this morning he was hot to touch as well. Oh the joys. I wouldn’t be upset, I’ll admit when my children have fevers they are mellow and need nothing but rest and mommy’s nurturing. I’m good at nursing them.  I’m most disappointed becausemy girlfriends had planned a sweet little lunch at their house for me. I don’t want to go over and infect their children. They worked so hard on planning it! I don’t know what to do. I wish my family members weren’t all working…hmmm…we”ll see how this one works out.  There may be hope still. Mr. Good may be able to rescue me.

So I woke in a not so happy birth week mood. The kitchen was hid-e-ous. I tried the technique of waiting till my husband was sick of the mess in the kitchen and actually cleaned it. It was four days before he did anything. I don’t recommend trying this particular technique if you have a husband like mine. His eyes are blind too any type of domestically made disorder. Needless to say the whole house mirrored the kitchen. I volunteered to watch three children yesterday. That equals six under six and they left quite a tornado of destruction in their path. I still haven’t had time to find a replacement washing machine for our broken one. My landlord said to see if I could find one for free on Craig’s List. He’s a winner! So I can only wash once a week. It’s getting to me. Especially when I have a child that still soils her pants at least twice a week.  OH the simple pleasures of a working washing machine. The next time you feel like complaining about the laundry pile up, know that you have it so much better than me.

I had no bread in the pantry this morning. I tried to convince Buster to buy lunch. He absolutely refuses too. He’s scared he’ll mess up the whole process of lunch buying. I threw together whatever I could find in the pantry. The day hit it’s all time low after I dropped off my preschooler and it was just Bubba and me.

Bubba is a tough one. He just turned two and gets so irritated when I attempt housework in his presence. I can’t blame the little guy. If the only time I had alone with my mom was four hours a week when the big sister was in preschool I’d want her whole attention as well. Hence my dilemma. I was stuck in the house that was hit by it’s own private tornado, and a superiorly hideous kitchen…and Bubba was staring at me with his beautiful squintchy blue eyes as if to say “what’ll we do now mamma?”

I took the high road and we went to the grocery store. I even let him walk by the cart. It was amazing how good he was if I just asked him nicely and paid lots of attentions to him. I hope I’m figuring him out because although he’s as cute as a baby kitten, he is my most taxing child.  

So we went shopping, and it was actually a warm, albeit cloudy day, here in the Northwest. So I decided to throw a picnic together and walk to get Missy from preschool, with a detour on the way home by the local park. This day was shaping up very nicely. Exercise for mom, fresh air for kids, everyone was happy.

I’m not kidding when I say everything fell in place from there. I threw together a fun activity for the 8 year old girls at church, my husband cleaned the kitchen while I was gone AND started dinner. We had a nice family meal before I took the kids out for haircuts (tomorrow is picture day) and Mr.Good ran off to Boy Scouts. He looks really cute in the uniform.

I usually don’t like to bore the blogosphere with every monotonous detail of my day as a fearless home-maker.

But it’s birth week people!   I’m just putting myself out there for you all to see and enjoy!

And since my blog is a NO GUILT blog and your feeling a little insecure because my day was so fluffing fabulous, just know that yesterday, the TV was on…well…pretty much all day. So I needed to make up for the guilt that I incurred.  I have this theory that if I am a fun mom for most of the days of the week, they’ll forget the days that I was less than savory.

And the party just keeps on going.

Feel free to send your birth week wishes to me via picture and I will gladly post how loved I am.
goodenoughblogatgmaildotcom

And so I begin my week long celebration of my coming birthday. This morning to my delight I discovered two birthday cards in my mailbox. One from Grandma with $20 bucks! Thanks Grandma! And another from Little Sis in Australia, that made me teary eyed. Awww…I love you too Sis. 

I’m that obnoxious friend that never let’s her people forget when her birthday is. In a way I blame my mom. She made birthdays extremely special. I don’t know how she did it. There were six of us…but each one of us had a special day where we would inevitably wake up to streamers on our bedroom door and presents on the dining room table. We would start the celebration at some unearthly hour, so my Dad could be part of it. That was fine for us because that meant we had new toys at 5 o’clock in the morning. Not a bad way to start out the day. None of us minded getting up that early for each- other either. There seemed for a moment in time to be good will between all siblings on our birthdays. Which is amazing if you know my family.

I have much to look forward to on this week. If the rains hold off I will take my children to the park every day. I will have play dates with friends I like to hang out with even if our kids don’t get along (which fortunately they all do.) I will buy a new CD and schedule a long overdue facial. I will enjoy thinking about fun ways I would celebrate my birthday if we were rich. I will watch chick flicks every night this week and be romantical with my husband. I will go for walks along the river. I will have a dance party in my kitchen. By myself. Even if my children beg me to stop. And on that wonderful birthday of mine I will not cook or clean. We will eat out in careless abandon. I will keep my cell-phone close at hand to receive the many sweet phone calls from loved ones. If they don’t call I will call them and remind them of this miraculous day that needs celebrating.

Happy Birth week to me! And thanks mom, because it’s your birth week too. You deserve a pat on the back for carrying me all those months and those extra 6 weeks I was overdue, and for pushing me out.

I love being alive! 

All too often I find myself daydreaming about the day Mr.Good will finally strike it rich. He’s an entrepreblahblah…I don’t want to even try and spell it. He’s a business owner! He’s a carpenter, and has a hardwood supply company as well. 

It’s been about a year now since we embarked on this journey of business ownership. I’ve realized it is not for the faint of heart. And while I’m pretty much a wimp when it comes to the heart department I do have a sense of adventure. This has been one crazy ride!

I admire my husbands work ethic, and his talent. I like knowing there is no one to tell him how much he can make per year, and when he can and cannot take a day off. I take comfort in the fact that there is no one for him to answer to, or belittle him.

I grew up watching my dad face the white collar world, day after day. Nothing was ever concrete for him. I couldn’t even tell you exactly what he did for a living or what his job title was. I knew my dad worked hard and his job was stressful. He also made frequent trips around the world. I saw him leave early in the morning in a suit and tie and come home late at night. Now that I’m older, I’m finding out just how mean and abusive some of those big bosses were. And my dad put up with it for the sake of his family. It breaks my heart to think what people go through to make livings for their families. 

By contrast my husband dons his shorts and tennis shoes. He comes home with sawdust in his hair and paint stains on his hands. I know what he does.  He never has to leave the county for his work. While times are tough now, there is reassurance that the future holds smoother sailing.

It’s been a hard year, I’m not going to lie. There have been some setbacks. There have been months when I didn’t know where the grocery money would come from, and I couldn’t put gas in the van. But we have always found a way. I’m sure there will be times ahead that are similar before the road gets a little smoother. I have had to put complete faith in my husband. He sees the potential of what he’s doing, his vision is one that includes plenty of time for his family, and all the comforts we could want. He hasn’t led us astray yet. When the money is tight I just close my eyes and dream of the simple things I’m going to spend some money on when he does bring home those big paychecks. A facial, a trip to Costco, and some yoga classes. That is what I’m looking forward to. I know. I’m a simple girl. 

What do you want when your ship comes in?