Good Enough

I don’t talk about my friends much because I don’t want to make everyone jealous.

I have some really wonderful friends. Jenny is one of them. I don’t see her very often but she is a kindred spirit. She’s been hosting these writing prompts once a week and they always get me thinking.

So I’m finally participating.

This week was inspired by Back-to-school and what are we as moms doing for ourselves?

Well Jenny,

I’m writing again. Not much on the blog, but on the elusive novel. It puts the twinkle in my eye just thinking about it. I find my hands itching to come and visit what I’m writing, and add, and imagine. I’m having so much fun.

I’m also playing tennis with Mr.Good. I love having my body back, even though I’m a nursing mom it doesn’t suck the life out of me, like being pregnant did. I can also run up the stairs, and tie my shoes, and do laundry without becoming breathless. I am truly a happy person right now.

I envy the yoga Jenny is doing, and one of these Saturdays I will go back to my Yoga Garden, and my instructor, Sara, will ask “Eve, how are you feeling today?” and I will answer shyly “Fine.” and then she will ask “And what would you like to work on?” and I will answer “please…all I want is this saggy skin around my mid section to go away?” And she will then proceed to throw an intense work out at me and I will be all the happier for it.

I was talking to another kindred spirit today about our buckets. Sometimes as moms we let our buckets run dry, we take care of everyone else and forget about ourselves.  I think I finally learned after my third baby that it wasn’t healthy for my family or I to let myself go.

I once took a class where the teacher was talking about balance. We have three parts of ourselves that need to be nourished…our physical, spiritual, and emotional selves all need attention. I’ve noticed at times I need to pay more attention to one then the other, but if I totally neglect any part, I’m not as happy. I’ve been trying to balance those three lately, and even with a new child around I’ve found a certain peace.

Except when it’s time to make dinner. All the zen in the world cannot stop that time of day from becoming tumultuous.

Just a reminder to all of the peeps that read my blog and then see me at church, the grocery store, mommy and me music class…

My blog is a place where I vent. It was that way with my journal growing up. Whenever I was feeling extreme I would write. So my journal is filled with dramatics. I don’t know why I air these crazy thoughts on the world wide web but I do. Partly because it’s nice to find people that relate. Moms who relate. Then I know I’m not alone.

So when you do see me please don’t treat me so tenderly. I’m still Eve. I’m mostly light-hearted. If you ask me how I am I will tell you I’m fine.

In reality I am. I have a husband that loves me, good friends, family that is sometimes around, and my kids will survive the hours of T.V. watching and spaghetti dinners.

I did call a friend that cleans houses, blubbering on the phone to her that I couldn’t stand living in this dump for one more day. She came and cleaned. Life feels more hopeful in a clean house. Thanks Kimberly.

And I have a new distraction which will have to be another post because he deserve’s one of his own.

xo everyone. Thanks for reading even though lately I sound like an adult talking in a Charlie Brown cartoon. Wa-wha-wa-whawha-waaaa. 

I’m back, I’m exhausted.

I’m exhausted about being back.

The house smells worse then ever. There’s been no one cooking or cleaning in it for a month. It smells like the dank, moldy, musty rental house we first walked in a year ago.

School is starting in 4 days. I want to spring clean this house within that time BUT my Grandparents are moving in to the area and I need to help them move tomorrow.

I have committed to watch some children this school year in trade for music lessons and swapping my two youngest so I can go volunteer at my sons school once a week.

I’m participating in a Mother Goose preschool, which involves 6 of us moms take a week teaching our 3 year old’s preschool curriculum.

Structure scares me stiff.

I don’t know how I’m going to hold to a schedule. I’m Mrs. Anti-SCHEDULE!

I need a make-over. How am I going to straighten out my life so that my house will be clean for these weekly visitors, for the kids I’m babysitting, for the preschoolers I’m teaching. How will I have enough energy for everything? How do you moms of multi-age children handle all the different schedules you have to accommodate? But I don’t want to know everything right away…I need to be broken in slowly…

AAAAAAAaaaaaahhhhh! 

Ladies and Gentlemen, the time is drawing nye, I know you all are sick are hearing about BlogHer but right now it is haunting my dreams…

I’m beginning to feel that they’re going to smell me out for the poser I am! I do feel like a poser. I’m riding on the coat tails and kindness of Kathryn, who knows the ins and outs of this counter culture.

I’m used to counter culture, I went to school on Capital Hill in Seattle, I married a surfer, I listen to punk rock when I have the occasion. But this world? This world of blogging I know very little about.

“That’s why you’re going!”    I know…I know…but I’m going to have to be social…which is easy for me to do on smaller scales. But I’m out of practice. If everyone would bring their kids then I could start in the traditional way I’ve been getting to know people….

“Oh how old is your daughter? She’s adorable! My daughter is three. Oh isn’t this age interesting?” Blah blah blah…do you see what I’m saying? Have I lost the art of schmoozing in my six years of mommyness? We shall see all too soon.

My room will be linked to seasoned proffesionals such as this and this. They are going to see right through me and my laptop that I hope to borrow from my little sis…(Can I please borrow your laptop Sunshine Girl? I haven’t even asked you yet but I’m kind of desperate.)

And then I can envision myself sitting in some technical class, next to strangers, in this huge room. Every one is typing away on their laptops…and I can’t get in to mine (if I even have one) because I forgot how to, so I pull out…A PAPER NOTEBOOK, AND PEN! Dun dun dunnnn…and everyone turns and looks at me and gasps…then silence, and then (sniff sniff) THEY LAUGH ME OUT OF THE CONFERENCE! WWAAAAAHHHHHH!!! And I run crying to my hotel room and curl up under the covers and hide…

This could soon become reality folks. I’ve never asked much of y’all before but in all seriousness…remember me in your prayers.

I will not be mentioning this subject again as I think I’m beginning to develope an ulcer.

• 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.  

Before I go scouring other blogs and getting lost in cyber-space, I must do it…I must write.

Honestly I just haven’t felt worthy of typing. I still have carry over from last Wednesday’s dark cloud.  But ”friend therapy” has been fun…and I don’t want to make anyone blush, but thanks friend, for making dinner for my poor starving children TWICE while I sulked.

Can I blame it on my house?

They are real moose antlers! It has a certain German Chalet charm to it doesn’t it?

By the way, they installed them on both sides! One just wasn’t “good enough.”

We’re renting. Close your eyes and envision cream stucco with dark brown wood trim, and shutters. Probably built in the early sixties. We still have globe sized light fixtures made out of orange glass hanging from chains. The carpet is delightful multi colored weave that can hide just about any stain you throw on it. And it’s wound so tight that there is really no need for vacuuming, a broom will take care of the crumbs that sit on top. The walls are all the color of a typical Seattle morning…grey. I have tried to cover them up with pictures, but it’s not working.

The best part of the house besides the antlers has got to be the plastic bag we stuck in the hole in the front window. To keep the bugs out.

What I need to remember is that this is not forever. And I do. I can laugh at it. I like having “the moose antler” house. It’s quite a conversation starter. But I’m longing for a place to really call our own. 

I met some peeps on Saturday…it was refreshing.

They were nice to me.

They gave me presents and bought me lunch. I like Canadians.

A few wish to remain photo-less, but the rest of you will go down in Good Enough Blog history.  Thanks for hangin’ and hopefully we’ll party again in the future…

What a long and strange day for me.

I was whisked back about 15 years as I was forced by State Law to retake my written and driver’s test to obtain a new driver’s license.  I was nervous to the point of nausea…but as I reminded my husband last night, I have never failed any type of licensing test, EVER.  Today was no exception.  I did pass both with a hugePHEW! But because I live in the boonies I spent a couple of hours driving back and forth to the DMV to retrieve the proper documents that I didn’t realize I needed. Should have checked before hand.

I was overly frustrated with my oldest. He’s only five. How can I train him to be more respectful. He’s getting so mouthy. I never expected that from him. He was such an obedient and loving toddler. 

I spent the afternoon with 12 eight year olds.  This became both aggrivating and hilarious. The comments that come out of these girls mouths really make me laugh. I wish I had a memory for quotes so I could share them. There were just too many moments there. 

Then tonight, Hubby left for Scouts and his weekly late night b-ball game. I made sure to put the kidlets to bed earlier than usual.  I enjoy these nights where I really have some time to myself…  

So of course I spent the evening BAWLING. Yes, I’ve been crying my eyes out on my wee pillow. Did you watch American Idol?  Well I did, and although there were many moments of overdone celebrity cheesiness, there were many many moments of humbling. stark reality.  When they showed clips of the African slum…they compared it to the size of central park, and it was packed with houses made out of mud and paper.  Children, so many children without parents. So many people dying of AIDS and Malaria.  I was just sobbing.  Then they showed Louisiana, and still two years later there are so many living in these little trailers, not even full sized trailers. These camping trailers, packed together to house families that lost their homes in the hurricane. There is not a lot of “scope for the imagination” in these places, but there is a lot of crime.  
There were many other disheartening stories. It hurt to watch.  

There was just this feeling of helplessness that came over me. I know I can send money, but I’m so tainted with these big commercial charities. You never know how much of the money really gets there.  When I was growing up, one of my close friends lived next to this family and their huge mansion.  When I asked what the father did for a living I found out that he worked for The United Way.  I’ll never forget that.  Why did this man that worked for a charity foundation make so much money to live in excess as they did.  I didn’t get it, even then when I was young. Since then I have been hesitant to give freely without to charities such as this. If my family sponsors a child I don’t want the money going to Sally Struthers and her T.V. commercials. Show me something legit. Show me something I can send my money to and know that it’s not paying for someones million dollar home.  

Mary, from Owlhaven has adopted 4 children from around the world if I’m correct. She’s in the beginning process of adopting more. This brings some peace to me. I know there are many like her.  They’re helping one child at a time.

I don’t know where this is going. Never blog with PMS, and you can quote me on that one. You’ll regret it in the morning.

I want this world to be a better place. I want to be a good mom and wife, with everything that that entails. I want to be a crusader.  How can I do this?

My cheeks are still wet and I’ve used every inch of my sleeves as a snot rag.  But I feel okay. I had a good reason to cry tonight. Tomorrow I’ll work on that good mom and wife thing. Because I do have some control over that.  

My brother just taught me how to post a REAL picture! I’m very excited about this. Me, in the middle…my 30th birthday, two of my three sisters. Luv ‘em.

Oops I did it again, no, I’m not referring to Britney Spears, I’m referring to my impulsivity (is that a word?)  For about a month back in November I joined the e-bay frenzy.  We were moving, to a rental, we’ve never had to rent. My pride got the better of me and I was thinking that if I had to rent, I would do it in style. I ended up playing e-bay for furniture. On the positive side, I purchased four kitchen chairs for $100 and free shipping. I should have stopped there! I should have counted my blessings, we really did need kitchen chairs we only had two and we’re a family of five. But perusing will get you everywhere and I began my search for other AMAZING deals.

I saw this armoire that looked gorgeous, the bid was starting at .99 cents.  I thought I hit the jackpot! Maybe no one else would bid and I would get an armour for $20.  Then the madness began, as I eagerly checked my e-mail everyday to see if I had won people  kept out bidding me. It mad me so angry! How dare they! This was my piece of furniture and no one was going to out bid me! I would WIN! Well, as you can imagine the bidding was raised fairly high, but in the end I “won” for a mere $100.  I didn’t realize that shipping costs were triple that. ARGH!

But it didn’t ship, and didn’t ship, and didn’t ship for 5 months. Maybe I was off the hook? I e-mailed and asked could I cancel it, to no avail. Once you win on e-bay if you don’t want your name slandered you must pay up and follow through.

The beastly thing came today. It smells like a nursing home, and is chipped and scratched. It’s awful. I don’t know what I ever saw in it! I’m so embarrassed for my hubby to arrive home and see it sitting in my living room, to big to fit into any of the corners I had planned for it.

I have been humbled.  I am blushing in my humiliation. My house is now infected by the smell of it, and it is blocking 40% of the light in my living room. It blocks almost a whole window.

What do you do with an ugly armoire, what do you do with a smelly armoire, what do you do with a cheap looking, although relatively expensive armoire before the hubby comes home and gives you the look?

To add to the insult to my injuries…my hubby is an amazing carpenter, you can check out his gallery of work at scandw.com, and he just made me a beautiful cabinet…the first cabinet he’s ever made for after seven years of marriage.  Why couldn’t I wait a little longer for a custom built job? That’s what you all are thinking!  This has put a damper on my spirits which were already as grey and dreary as the weather outside on this Seattle day.

Never again e-bay! You’ll never get the better of this girl!

Did I mention how utterly bored I am?  Well, I’m also bored, bored. bored. bored.

Although I would love to make  the type of this post bigger at the request of some readers, alas, I don’t know how, which goes to show my ineptitude when it comes to anything technological.

I just returned from vacation.

Are you jealous? You should be, I left the kids behind with grandma.

I have inferred that we recently moved from Southern Cali where I have lived peacefully for the past 8 years to rainy Seattle. My husband grew up down there, and that is where I hoped to remain, but we’re are here, and making the best of it. 

Hubby is a surfer, it’s part of who he is and why I love him. I’ve been obsessed with surf culture since I was about 12 years old. I subscribed to Surfer Magazine as a youngster and would pour over the pages with much enthusiasm, vowing that I would learn someday, and that only someone who knew how to would be a good enough man to marry.

It just so happens I met my husband in a surf shop, while buying some racks for my car. It wasn’t love at first sight, but he did give me a discount on those racks, and six months later we were dating, then seven months after that we were married.  

We want to keep that culture alive and decided after the horrible winter we had that we needed a surf adventure.

Hubby has been reading about where to go, and we found a spot on the Oregon coast that is said to have the best waves on the west coast…so for my very first guest blogger, my husband, risking his life, to tell you about the Oregon waves…

Rumor has it that Seaside Oregon is home to one of, if not the best left point break on America’s west coast. The challenge of the wave goes beyond the size, power, and rocks associated with the wave. Sightings of Great White sharks are common. In fact, someone was attacked by a Great White just last Christmas. 

The local surf crowd is also cause concern for a visiting surfer. To help a non-surfer understand this point you would have to understand what localism means. Localism= preventing visitors from surfing the break you grew up surfing. Localism is manifest in acts of vandalism on a visitors car, surrounding a visitor in the water and preventing them from catching waves, threatening a visitors life and even attempting to make good on those threats.

So why surf Seaside instead of going somewhere else? It is a beautiful town with plenty to keep a family busy, and plenty of world class surf to keep a surfer very happy. As for my experience, I had a fantastic time. Each person I met while surfing was polite and friendly. The surf was 6-10 foot at the point and even though it was stormy, the shape held up and provided an excellent surfing experience. There is a beach break for beginners and the point for surfers who are ready for a challenging juicy wave. Cleanline Surfshop and Seaside Surf Shop both provided me with quality rental gear and were run by quality individuals that gave me all the info I needed about the area to make it a memorable experience. All and all I can see why the locals want to keep this little gem for themselves.

Thanks honey…might I add that while the boys were surfing the wives went to a wonderful day spa called Day Spa on Broadway (www.dayspaonbroadway.net).  I think it’s the only spa in town, though if any others show up they’ll have some tough competition on their hands. It was hands down the best facial I’ve ever had, given by an Australian named Wendy Camden. She was gentle, yet excellent, and I left with a glow that stayed on my skin for days. 

We also went to the best restaurant I have ever eaten at, in a beautiful “one light town” to the north. Gearhart. The restaurant was Pacific Way Cafe, it’s a French Bistro in a quaint building off of Pacific Way, and it ruined me for any other eats on the rest of the trip. I recommend this to any one planning a Seaside adventure.

There is something for everyone in this little town, and even when it’s raining, as it often does in the North West, there is plenty to do. I had a great time, and I feel ready to take on whatever the little ones can literally throw at me!