Good Enough

When I’m in the car and the kids are locked into their seats I experience a certain feeling of euphoria.

It’s a time when I know they’re not getting into anything, they may be yelling at each other but they can’t hurt one another, really it’s fantastic.

Other moms may take this oppurtunity to get to know their children on a deeper level. They may use the time their children are strapped down to impart further light and knowledge, or inoculate them with spiritual wisdom.

My hats off to these mothers, that never let a teaching moment go by.

Me? I like to turn on the radio, or play a CD.  And I’m not talking FM Disney or We Sing and Play. Sometimes I play my talk radio, while other times I’m in the mood to rock out. At these times I feel like if gas weren’t so gall durned expensive I might just keep right on driving, past my destination point, because somehow I feel like this is quality “me time.”

There’s just one thing that stops me from truly disappearing into my own world and running the mini-van on “auto-pilot…” It’s the constant chattering at me from the back seat. From the 4 and 7 year old.

“Mom, why are bears called bears?”  “Mom, what’s 102 plus 102?” “Mom, can we go to Chuckie Cheese for my next birthday party?” “Mom, in my dream last night my teeth turned to stone.” “Mom, can I go to Laylee’s house?”

And on, and on.

My first question is “When my kids see me rocking out, don’t they understand that I’m in ‘the zone?’ When I’m singing a song at the top of my lungs do they really expect me to stop and tell them why bears are called bears?” Which by the way I really don’t have an answer for anyway. Sometimes when the good song is playing on the radio, there IS NO REWIND BUTTON, or PAUSE. My song is playing and I have to see it through. DO YOU FEEL ME PEOPLE?

and Secondly…in these moments when I do answer or acknowledge them, sometimes I can’t fully hear what they’re saying, them being in the back seat and myself in the front. So I take this tactic…I simply say “mmm hmmm” to everything. But my question to YOU people is what exactly am I saying yes too? Is it that “mmm hmmm we can go to Laylee’s” or “mmm hmmmm sure we can go to Chuckie Cheese for your next birthday and throw money down the drain while we’re at it.”

I’ll never know. I’m sure I’ve promised many a splendid thing while I’m driving. What I really want to do is say, “Kids, Loveys, for the next twenty-something minutes anything I say must not be taken seriously. So if you ask for an Elephant or anything else while we’re in the car, the answer is really NO. Because for the next twenty minutes, Mom is on AUTO-PILOT.”

In the red corner…6′3 weighing in at 185 lbs!

check out the muscle on this one…the poor guy in green never had a chance…

and the winner is…

He’s the best.

At first I thought it was a phase, he was getting over his last heartbreak. But then I remembered little brother fighting with whoever he could get his hands on growing up. And I mean, as far back as I can remember.

I also recall a speed bag and large punching bag hanging from his room as a teenager. I never thought he was serious.

Until now.

Go little bro! 

And ladies, he is still looking for Mrs. Right.

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.

I noticed my last post was awhile ago. I’ve decided when I’m too tired for words I can always post a picture, because isn’t a picture worth at least a thousand words? Is that what “they” say? I’ve decided I’ll go along with “them” and buy myself some verbage.

I love my grams. My sister Sunshine is on the left, Mom on the right. Does anyone have a Grandma like mine? She’s a witty one. I love it when she let’s a “swear word” slip…like the other day she called someone a whore. It just sounds funnier out of her mouth.
My grandma had her own column in the local newspaper, for years. She taught English and French, and directed all the town plays.
I want to be just like my Grandma.

Not only is she funny, and witty and brilliant, she’s extremely spiritual, but she doesn’t put it on me. She doesn’t lecture, she just lives by example. My Grandma.

I don’t know why but growing up I always felt like if I became this totally religious, spiritually driven person I might become a zombie…boring…uninteresting…sheep-like.  Grandma is definitely not any of those things. 

Grandma wants me to keep having babies. She loves her some babies. I tell her “Grandma! Haven’t I contributed my share yet? Why is this all on me? I have 5 other siblings that need to be nagged.”

I was looking through some of my old things. I saved letters from my Grammy. She and I were pen-pals. I think maybe I should start it up again with her…even though she only lives a mile away now. It was always fun to get letters from her, she always imparted wisdom to me in her matter-of-fact way.

There, you see what a simple picture inspires?

So two weeks ago whilst Missy was enjoying an Equestrian experience…really she’s enjoying herself, I don’t know what the deal is with her scowl in this photo! 

I decided that bringing my boys berry picking at the local U-pick farm would be a wonderful experience for ALL involved…umm…yeah. I guess I forgot about my experience berry picking with my mom as a child. The first fifteen minutes were delightful, and then I spent the next 2 hours wondering how my mom could search through every leaf, gleaning off the strawberries, moving down the long row at a snails pace. It wasn’t fun for me. It was torture!

Like I said, I must have forgotten all this, but it came flooding back to me in visions as I tried to pick as many berries as my pregnant body could handle. This one did okay for about 30 minutes. I had him sit across from me and I made it into a sort of contest. Buster is very competitive and was able to concentrate for the most part.

The problem was…my 2 year old. Don’t let the care free exterior fool you. He liked being in the strawberry patch, but he also like playing sword fights with the stakes at the end of the rows, throwing dirt clods, and running far far away until he just couldn’t hear mom call “COME BACK.” And when the 7 year old was sent to retrieve his little Bubba, fights ensued.

Oh it was a joyful day. My only goal was to get to the end of my rown. Scooting along on my bum because you KNOW I wasn’t leaning over with my big pregnant belly. I should mention that the row I was assigned was half the size of a normal row and I thought the goal was attainable.

In the end, after one tantrum and having to take the little one to the car to show him how serious I was about his behavior, we ended up with two whole flats! That was 11lbs. Not bad for two hours work and two bored children.

And the best part was what happened later when I made my very first homemade strawberry pies.

So worth it.

Every bite washed away the pain and agony of a hard day’s work!

I’m realizing that my guilt about bringing another child into the mix, and being stuck home afterwards has caused me to schedule everything I can fit in for my kids in the next three weeks.

Yes, Pony Camp, Swimming Lessons, Berry Picking, Log Shows.

I’m leaving no room or energy to clean my house and prepare for the new one.

Park Day exhausts me.

Driving exhausts me.

Sleeping exhausts me.

And my kids are running out of clean underwear and forks.

What is a girl to do?

Names have always fascinated me. When I was young I would keep a journal of the names I liked.

When it comes down to naming my own children the pressure is on. I want my husband to LOVE the name as well, but I don’t care what the world thinks.

What is your opinion on names? Join the discussion over at Seattle Mom Blogs. I’m fascinated to hear what you have to say.

Breakfast: Honey Nut Cheerios

Snack:       Graham Crackers

2nd Snack: Snickers Bar

Lunch: Amy’s Organic Enchilada Meal

Snack: Kettle Chips and Pumpkin Pie with Lots of Whip-cream

2nd Snack: Grapes

Dinner: Stroganoff and Broccoli

Dessert: That is yet to be decided, I enjoy it more when the kids are in bed. I think I’ll go for the Haagen daz Almond and Chocolate dipped Ice Cream Bar.

Happy Eating Everyone! May you enjoy your food as much as I do mine!

I was up last night, silently crying for my brother who’s going through a life changing trial right now.

Although I’m not surprised by the latest family news, it really didn’t make it any easier when I lay my head on the pillow, in the dark silence, with all the thoughts allowed to run wild in my head.

What will happen to my brother. It is him who I worry about most. Will he come home to us? To his family that loves him no matter what and are ready to support him through this dark time in his life? Has it been such a long time away that he forgets we are here? Although he’s not one to talk. None of the men in my family are. It’s very frustrating.

I wish I could have good heart to heart talks with my brothers. My sisters all wear their hearts on their sleeves. There is no guessing involved. 

If my brother was the type to listen, the type to respond to conversation, I would tell him that it’s going to be okay. It’s going to work out. We love him, we’re here for him. Please ask if you need something. Please don’t try to get through this alone.

And I know that it hurts and it will for a long, long time. But don’t let this make you bitter, my brother.

I love you so much. I want happiness for you.

I cry for you, and if you know the women in this family, you know we all do.  

One of the “perks” of this pregnancy. I think it’s a sign I’m having a girl. My body seems to like carrying females better than males.

Males make them droop. Immediately. Within minutes of becoming pregnant.

This became clear with my first pregnancy.

I had always been on the smaller side. Nothing I ever complained about, I was a dancer, a B cup. They were perky.  Sometimes I went without a bra and no one was the wiser. About three months before my wedding they grew a whole cup size. I was very pleased. I was the proud owner of C cups and still they could stand on their own.

My new husband and I had all the eagerness to start a family quickly and 1 and 1/2 months after our wedding the stick said positive. And my lovely girls drooped. IMMEDIATELY. I’m not kidding. It was a sad and weird time for my body. No one warned me that would happen. And after nursing Buster for 9 months they never returned.

Until I became pregnant with Missy. They re-inflated, and were as beautiful as ever. I loved being pregnant with my girl. My skin cleared, I didn’t get the back fat I had with Buster, and the “girls” were fun to have around again. I’m just saying.

Well I don’t have to tell you that Bubba came along and they left again. I thought maybe it was a fluke. We chose not to know the gender of the baby. But he came along and I began to notice the pattern.

All I’m saying is they’re back again. I’ve missed them. I know they won’t be around for long because I only have about 9 weeks left.  

Saying goodbye will be hard.