Good Enough

How to type with one hand.

That my sweat smells weird when I’m nursing…(TMI?)

Showering has become a luxury not easily afforded.

I miss my clothes.

I like to stare at the baby for hours.

I think everyone else likes to stare at my baby.

I should be sleeping instead of staring at the baby.

I can fall asleep anywhere, anytime, and have woken up only due to the kink in my neck.

I miss my other kids.

Life is good…something it’s hard for me to remember when I’m pregnant.

So I write a full report over here, but I think I can be even more free with my opinions on my own blog.

Believe me people I still have much to say on this matter.

A little history…

I’ve been through many a musician in my time. No one very successful, mind you, but some of them have been on small tours and played venues that were pretty packed. They could never get to the next level. Maybe my love, once forsaken, left them empty with nothing new to write about? At least that’s a nice way of looking at it. None of them made for good boyfriends. Although some had day jobs, one slept on the couch of his brothers condominium. A bit of an inconvenience when we were making out. It was that same one that would ask me for money when we went out to Denny’s after the shows. He was going nowhere fast.

Ben Lee looks like a Hobbit Rockstar. He’s very short, and has wild curly hair, but I don’t know how big his feet are. That being said, the guy must have an easy time with the women. I know if I was pre-Mr.Good I would become a groupie. Because when Ben Lee sings and plays his guitar…sorry, I spaced out there for a minute…where was I? Oh yeah, when he performs it’s amazing. That’s all I can say. Go see him when he comes to your town. It’s a beautiful thing.    

Don’t you think she’s a natural?

“So tonight Emilie shaved her legs for the first time.  I wanted to scoop up the hair in
the bathtub and tape it in her baby book.  She cringed at the idea.
My little girl is growing up.  I felt my eyes welling up with tears.  She giggled with
glee at her long awaited smooth legs.  Not a tear in sight.  Do I really have to wait
another 20 years until she understands what’s it like and we cry together over my
granddaughter shaving her legs?

Happy Mothering,
Red”

Good luck Red, I love your little Mimi, and I’m crying with you. But let’s face it, that girl was born a grown-up!

Ahhhh, the memories. Do you remember when you first went to shave your legs?

Where you as terrified as I was? 

I was about to enter Junior High (da da dun!) and I knew we had to take P.E. and I knew I’d be wearing shorts in front of all these girls and boys. I didn’t want to do it. I was extremely reluctant to grow up. I was extremely reluctant to move on to that next phase of my life. I fought it with my whole being.

I knew I had to do it. I had no idea how to bring up the issue to my mom. I was the oldest girl of my 5 siblings. There was no one to go before me. No one to “break my parents in” so to speak. And the very idea of holding an object in my hand that was so sharp it could slice off the fine blond hair on my legs paralyzed me.

After stewing and putting off the inevitable, I went to speak to the only woman that could truly help and guide me through this pivotal time in my adolescance.

“Mom” my voice was shook with uncertainty. “Mom, how do I shave my legs? I need to learn before I start 7th grade.”

She looked at me, with all the love a mother of 6 in the middle of changing a dirty diaper could muster and said…”YOU JUST TAKE A RAZOR AND SOME SOAP AND SHAVE! I DON’T KNOW!?”

And that was it.

Mom, you know I love you. But Mom, I was going to SHAVE MY LEGS MOM! Cut an over dramatic, freaked out girl some SLACK!

After some disappointment at the fact that I was on my own with this one, I did just what she said. I took some soap, worked up a good lather, and ever so lightly I touched the razor to my legs. To this day I have yet to cut myself. (totally a lie.)

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.    

I am by nature nocturnal.

There is a certain peace and clarity  I feel when the sun goes down and everyone else goes to bed. I lay here in the very room my husband grew up in…staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his popcorn ceiling. The window is open, the crickets are chirping.  Their song is trying to compete with the hum of my baby-monitor. Ideas, concerns, memories, all flowing around in my head like an obscure independent film.

I enjoy this time of solitude and reflection.

8 more days… 

I remember the first time I saw this room…I was 23, he was 22. He introduced me to his parents and asked if I wanted to come upstairs. It was all very odd to me. He WAS 22 and still living with his parents. He asked me to come upstairs to his room in front of them. That would never fly if I was living at home.

He played his Jackson 5 record for me…I sat on his fold out bed. His room was of course, a mess. I think there were Tarzan pillowcases on his bed.

That night we went on our first date…Loose Change premiered at a club down in Newport Beach. He had connections and got us in for free. I met Lisa Anderson while we were there. As if that wasn’t enough we went on to a local battle-of-the-bands where our friend was competing with his group “Tang.” Those were the days.

It was such a fun, relaxing date…until we said good night at the door. I was so nervous that’d he’d ruin the night by trying to kiss me. So I gave him a “long hug.” He interpreted my “long hug” as “she wants a kiss.”  So he tried.

He was denied. Of course. What kind of girl do you think I am.

All turned out right because 7 years later here I am staring at the stars he put on his ceiling so many years ago.

8 more days!

…wait…food…sustinance…a shower if I have the strength…then I may be able to tell my story…

Okay so I was SO tired last night I couldn’t shower, I could barely manage to fall in to my bed. I hope I’m able to convey my story in a way which you will understand the HORRORS of what I went through…

“Hot Yoga”  my little sister mentioned. SHE wanted to try it. I told her I thought it was admirible, but it sounded horrific. Needless to say I found myself going with her last night.

105 degrees  I’ll let that sink in…

“…105 degrees and we ask that you don’t leave the room until the very end of class.” They said.  I was terrified. Just walking into the room was torture for me and I didn’t know how I would work out in such conditions.  I paced the hallways, went to the bathroom twice, and finally commited. I walked in. They shut the doors behind me.  All I could do was stand helplessly on my mat while I gulped water.

A skinny, hairy man taught the class. I knew the type. I’m no stranger to yoga, but this wasn’t your momma’s yoga. His voice wan’t the soft calm voice of a yoga instructor but rather fast and bossy, like an auctioneer. 

I found that movement was my friend in this furnace. When I moved, I could create a small breeze. We went through the different standing poses and I found myself enjoying the class. I’ve always loved yoga, I love that it’s personal. You must only work at your own pace. Everyone seems to have their own strengths and weaknesses. I had many weaknesses this night.  Usually I have great balance. But my chi was thrown off by the heat! Then we went down to floor poses. I thought this meant the class was almost over. I spent the next 45 minutes struggling to survive this class…

I’m reminded of this road trip I took with a loser ex-boyfriend.  He drove a junky little Toyota with no AC.  We drove from California to Yuma, Arizona, in the summertime, with no AIR CONDITIONING!  We had these gallons of water with us in the cab. They were supposed to be for the radiator. In my desperation I started pouring the water on us as we drove. To me it was quite hilarious. It annoyed my loser ex-boyfriend. He didn’t want his back all sticky. This brought me much delight, and made me pour more, and laugh harder.

I really wanted to pour what contents I had left in my water bottle over my body. I don’t know what stopped me. I was already drenched with sweat from every pore of my body. I felt like Ebeneezer Scrooge in the Disney version, of course, where he’s pushed into a firey grave. I almost started shouting in delirium…

“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”

Finally after much inner torture the teacher declared “Namaste.” I practically ran into the fresh air.  I felt a bit nauseous on the ride home.

The worst part is my little sister LOVED it and is ready to sign us up for the next 4 months of classes. Maybe I need to give it a chance. Maybe the first class is the worst? I don’t know. I’ll let you know how the journey goes.

• I’d be a backup dancer~ I still try to shake my groove thing when no one is watching. Sometimes I get caught. Like the time I was attempting the Robot, in the kitchen. Husband walked in while I was doing that pose, you know the one where your elbow is cocked in the air and your forearm swings like its a loose hinge?  If you didn’t get all that, if ever we two should meet, I’ll demonstrate.  Well he walked in and caught me. I jumped, squeaked, and cover my face like he would just disappear if I didn’t see him.  He’s never let me live that day down.
• I’d be a photographer for National Geographic.  And I would write. I used to think I’d marry the writer, not that Husband can’t write but I’m a tad controlling.  I’d of course take his input and “use what I could.” He would just be there with me in the throws of the jungle, lest I was hit on by the pygmies, or something.
•  Maybe I would have a few more triathlons under my belt, maybe not. One in each state.
• Become an anthropologist, and study different tribes in Africa through living with them for years until they accepted me as one of their own. I’d write books about it. I’d be a specialist. Everyone would want me on their talk shows.
• perhaps I’d live on a sailboat, and moor at different places around the world.
•  maybe I’d try out for Reality Television
• maybe I’d be so popular on that show that I’d become some T.V. Host for an obscure cable channel.
• I’d join the Peace Corps

I used to think that if I was old, I couldn’t enjoy traveling.  I think maybe seeing my Grandma pull over at one too many rest stops put the fear in me.  But I felt such a panic to get out and do and see everything before gravity got a hold of me.

I’m realizing now that there are still time for those dreams in my future.  Who DOESN’T want to see a 50 year old back-up dancer at a Gwen Steffani concert?  And I’m really looking forward to traveling with the Husband. He’s never been past the North American continent. He’ll be a great traveling companion, and perhaps the pygmies will still try and hit on me in 20 years.

I am grateful for being out of the rat race. I worked for a great corporation in my twenties but I remember feeling a bit like a mouse on a wheel. (Hence the “rat race” Eve. Duh! and, does anyone say duh anymore?) But seriously, I wasn’t cut out for it. I knew I was just making money to spend it, then make it again. I had no drive to move up the chain. I didn’t want more stress or responsibility.

Although my worries now have the capacity to be the worst they could ever be, like the loss or sickness of a child or spouse, my joys have that same potential.  I wouldn’t understand how happy I could be, if I didn’t have my kidlets. I know I sound sentimental. And maybe one would think that my excitement over my toddler’s first exclamation of “mommy, I poopoos” is only because my day to day life has no other real thrill in it. That could possibly be true.

I like to think of it as I helped create this life and I’m taking this journey with them. I’m  learning to communicate for the first time, through them. I’m seeing the world through these fresh eyes. All three pairs of them. Suddenly that other stuff is comparatively not as exciting.

My 5 year old has never seen “The Ranch” before. We’re going there in 2 weeks. To him that is as thrilling as me travelling to the Great Wall of China. 

One might expect a conversation during with 3, five and under mindless drivel. But I get to hear comments like “If a human is friends with a rhinoceros, it might not turn out so well.” FRESH CONCEPTS! I’m tellin’ ya!

Spaghetti dinner, I’ve had it many times in my life. My children devour it like it’s sugar coated.  And really they’ve only had it a mere 260, 156 and 78 times in their life as oposed to my 1560. It’s also one of the few meals all three agree on and there is a certain satisfaction in nourishing another human life. 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, out of all the things I’ve done, and all that I could be doing, my wisest choice was to marry a sweet man and raise some kids. I know in the end my joy will be full.  

Well after the sob fest Wednesday night I received some wonderful phone messages.

I’m lucky. I have collected some very choice friends along my journey in life. Two of them called me Wednesday night but my phone was in the car. Instead of chatting about happy times gone by and catching up I was sitting alone crying.

Granted, we all need those nights to cry when no one is watching, but I would have loved to talk to my girls!

There’s nothing that makes me feel younger than hanging out with my 30-something gals!

Who else could you go to a Kelly Clarksen concert with and not feel awkward around all the teenagers?

Please note the 11 year olds in the background…and why are we the only ones rocking out?

Yes, I was quite the mosher in my day.
Do they still say mosh? Anyone?

I do love my friends. I miss the ones I’ve had to leave along the way, but that’s the beauty of today’s world. They are never REALLY far away.  We’ve got cell phones and blog sites and picture sites and instant messaging, and web-cams. And true friends do visit each-other, even if you happen to live at the edge of civilization in a very rainy part of the country.

The other wonderful thing about girlfriends is no matter where I go, I seem to find some real gems. I’ve been lucky with this recent move to meet some “kindred spirits.” Women that I can call and ask “I’ll clean your kitchen if you’ll clean mine.” or more often than that “I don’t feel like lifting a finger today. Can we ditch our house keeping duties together and can my kids trash your house while we do it?”   It’s great.

Speaking of making new friends, today some fellow female bloggers are driving from the far reaches of the Northwest, and meeting up in Seattle. I’m really  excited to meet everyone. I’m totally green to this blogging world and I don’t know what to expect, but I’m hopeful to come away with the beginnings of some fun relationships.

I’ll bring the digital camera and cross my fingers for some really good, embarrassing photos that I can post and talk about later!

I believe her name is Jane, but I can’t be 100% certain, as the only name I’ve ever seen is mamadoggylove.  I love her blogs and asked her for some questions…here they are…

1) You are one of six kids. Where do you fall in the order and what were your favorite/least favorite things about growing up with so many siblings?

     My mom and dad had seven children, the fourth, my little brother, passed away in infancy. I am number two, but the first girl. That naturally makes me the second mommy in the house. I LOVED having a large family.  I would love to have a large family but I don’t feel as capable to handle it mentally, and I often feel discouraged as to why my three are such a handful for me, and why can’t I be more like my mom?      

          What did I love most about having a large family? The games, the constant playmates, the imaginative ideas we had that just grew into these wonderful days of tee-pee making, and fort building.  Digging holes in the tall grass and covering them up so someone would fall in. Baseball. Water fights. Little sisters trusting me to chop off their hair, and then hiding the cut hair in the closet so Mom wouldn’t notice. Get togethers now where we remember fun stories. Knowing if I really need something I have quite a few people to call. 

        What was the downfall of having a big family? I really can’t say, from my perspective.  I had privacy, food, not the best clothes, but that builds character. Maybe I was lucky. The younger ones complain about things, like not enough attention and not being noticed.  I wonder, did I just not need more attention? My older brother was 1 year older, my younger brother was 1 year younger, we were always together, but I never felt the lack of attention. I don’t think they did either.  The three younger girls, we would lump them together and call them “the little girls.”  “Where’s my hat?”  “You left it in the little girls room.”  They all had this huge bonus room and the older three, we all had our own rooms. I don’t think they liked it. But still to this day, especially now that I’m the only girl with kids in my family, I  feel a little left out of “the little girls” and their relationship with eachother. 

      Is that too much? I really could talk about my family all day long.  

2) You mentioned that you love reality t.v. Which can you absolutely not live without and why? 

     I think I could live without them all and it would be better for me if they did not exist. Then I would have more time for the important stuff, like blogging. :)  I think if I had to name the one I couldn’t get enough of it was the whole Laguna Beach/The Hills.  I don’t know why. The girl drama is just too intriguing for me. I always want the nice girl to finish first and everyone to get what’s coming to them.

3) You and your husband met at a surf shop… you said it wasn’t love at first sight. How and when did you know he was The One?

   Oh Hubby, he’s so sweet. He is the nice guy. I guess what needs to be revealed is that I had a “previous marriage.”  I’ll wait for the gasps to die down. Yes everyone I had a previous marriage, to a High-school sweetheart, it turned out to be not so sweet, surprise, surprise. We were both very young.  So I left that relationship with the knowledge of what I DIDN’T want.  I didn’t want someone young,  and inexperienced. I wanted someone that could buy me a house right away, someone that was wise to the world, but very good at the same time.

Hubby looked like he was 19. He was always blushing, and a little nervous, and awkward. My roommate was always asking why I was dating him. I kept saying it was just for fun and soon I would have to break the poor boy’s heart. He told me he loved me after three weeks. I had to end in soon after that, I just knew it. And I tried to tell him I might never feel the same. He then did something very smart, he gave me permission to break his heart. He said he could handle whatever happened. After that I didn’t feel any pressure from him.  It was very easy to fall in love with him, he was different than all the other boys out there. He was genuine. There were no games between us, and we were engaged after two months of dating. Married after a total of 7 months. Never have I regretted it. I often wonder if he got more than he bargained for. But he loves me despite myself. It’s wonderful to feel this comfortable in a relationship. It will be 7 years this June.

4) What brought you and your family to Seattle from Southern California, and do you think you will live there for a long time?

      My husband was born and raised in Orange County, CA. He’s never lived anywhere else. Every-time we came up to Seattle to visit the family he joked about moving here. Then finally one Christmas he told me that sometimes he just felt stupid for living in California when he felt there was so much more for a middle-income family up here. He’s very brave and hard working, he took the leap and started his own Cabinetry bbusiness up here. He also bought a hard wood supply shop. So he has a lot on his plate. It was a tough decision, but even though I have always in my heart wanted to live in California for the rest of my life, I knew it was right. And I’m very proud of him.  I think we’ve made it through the roughest patch of the transition.  

5) We share a disdain for house cleaning. If there was ONE house chore that you never had to do ever again, what would it be and why?

     BATHROOM! It grosses me out.  I have to put on gloves and keep my head very far away form the grossness. Yes that is a word.  I think it will only get worse as my young grow into teenagers. (Although, by then they can clean it!)

So thanks Mama! And anyone who’s actually finished reading this very long winded post.  But I guess that’s what is so nice about having your very own blog. 

If anyone else wants an interview, I’ll come up with some questions for you.  Just let me know in the comment section.  

I dropped the ball, I was waiting till today, April 12, to call my sister in Australia and wish her a Happy Birthday. About 4 hours ago it became the 13th of April in Australia!

I’m sorry Keeks!  I’ll try to call you when it’s a decent hour in Australia, but one day late.

So now let me embarass you with a post all about you!

Kiki was the sixth child born in our family. Everyone says she came out a teenager, and she really did. I don’t know at what age she began speaking full sentences but it was very young. So  young in fact that when she went on an airplane with my Grandma before she was 2, no one would believe she was under 2 and thought my Grandma was lying for the free plane ticket. She was walking around the plane having grown-up conversations with all the adults.

Yes, Kiki had quite the mouth on her. She was never afraid to stand up to her very big and mean brothers and sisters. 

I wasn’t a very good big sister to my younger siblings. It’s something that I will always regret. I was caught up in my own selfish teenage life. No one explained to me that I would have these little girls as friends for life if I would only do right by them. I’ve tried to make up for it but now I have my own family and my own children, and I’m still distracted. Maybe if I had shown more love back then they would trust me and my advice now.  Maybe then I wouldn’t have to watch them make some of the same painful mistakes that I did.

 Though she was the most stubborn growing up Kiki has become very humble and very forgiving. She still wants to hang out with me, although I’m a boring stay-at- home-mommy and have three appendages with me at all times.

She’s brilliant. She could be anything she wants to be and is talented in all academic fields. She has chosen to become an English Major, and go to college in Australia. I’m jealous. I worry about her being so far away but I know this has been a growing experience for her, and I applaud her for taking the chance.

So again, happy birthday! You’re the best. I love you. I will always be your oldest and bossiest sister. Thanks for loving me anyway.

xoxo E