Archives for 2010

From his perspective aka A really bad idea

February 3, 2010 by Kelli

Last night, a nurse lady came to our house to torture us take our blood as we are planning on changing our life insurance policy.

Let me just make one things clear: I DON’T LIKE NEEDLES. I had three babies ala naturál for a reason, folks. Because I DON’T LIKE NEEDLES. I avoid them at all cost. I avoid them like I avoid math and science. I avoid them like I avoid crickets. I avoid them like I avoid the flippin’ plague. If a needle being shoved into my body can be avoided then I AVOID IT.

So, I was not thrilled when Lee said we had to have this done. I reminded him that we had just had this done not long ago and I remember because Sloan stepped on that nurse lady’s scale and broke it and she left a little peeved.

Lee reminded me that that was easily 3-4 years ago. Blast!

So, when the nurse lady showed up, my hands immediately started sweating as did my upper lip. Lee got all giggly because as she asked me all the family history questions my voice was curt and my words clipped. I’m healthy as a horse and as family histories go, mine ain’t too shabby. I was hoping that she would click her ball point pen, straighten up and proclaim me a fine specimen of health and waive the need for a blood draw.

She didn’t.

So Lee went first. And while she was prepping him, I busied myself getting dinner on the table for the kids. In retrospect, we probably should have had her draw the blood in a different room rather than at the kitchen table while the kids were eating. But I wasn’t thinking about the kids in that moment.

I was thinking about how I was possibly going to avoid passing out in front my family.

As I prepared the drinks, nurse lady stuck Lee’s arm. And our kids, who are fascinated by all things bloody, stopped mid-bite and stared…in horror.

“Uuuhhh…what is she doing to daddy?” Sloan asked, pizza rolling around on his tongue.

“She’s just testing his blood,” I replied and then swallowed so as not to hurl and further escalate the situation.

Clapping his hand over his eyes, Sloan suddenly got very dramatic (where does he get that?!). “I don’t want to watch,” he said, his voice all shaky.

“You don’t have to watch, buddy,” Lee said.

“Please stop,” Sloan said.

“Why?” Nurse lady asked.

“Because. I don’t want my dad to die!”

We all chuckled (well, I tried to chuckle, anyway). “Honey, daddy’s not going to die. You don’t die from getting your blood drawn,” I said. (Yeah right – what if you do?!?!)

“Uh-Yeah!” Sloan exclaimed, dropping his hand and looking at me with very wide, very concerned eyes. “Don’t you remember Marley? They put a needle in his leg and he died!”

And we all laughed heartily. Then Lee pretended to fall over dead. And Sloan laughed with us…but it was more of a Hahaha, I’m totally serious about this but you all are laughing so I’m gonna laugh along even though I don’t get the joke sort of laugh.

Once we convinced him that nurse lady wasn’t actually trying to put daddy to sleep, he went about his business eating his pizza – though he did keep a wary eye on nurse lady as she prepped me for torture blood work.

And, I am happy to report that I did not faint, although Lee did stand behind me when she jabbed, erm, stuck me just in case. There was a moment when she was switching tubes and she accidentally pulled the needle out of my arm causing blood to bubble up, which all around freaked me the kids out. One look at my horrified face and nurse lady quickly assured me that she got enough in tube one so she wouldn’t need to restick me.

Good. Cause I’da had to get ugly.

And that is the story of the day we nearly put Lee to sleep.

According to Sloan, of course…

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids do the darndest things, Sloan Tagged With: blood work, Marley and Me

Katya Rose

February 2, 2010 by Kelli

Moments ago (or so it seems) the doctor laid a tiny, squirmy baby on my chest and said, “Congratulations, you have a baby girl.”

My daughter.

I never thought I’d have a daughter. And yet, as I held her in that very first moment and looked at her face, somehow I knew her. It was like I had always known her, her face was so familiar to me.

And now, four years later, I’m wondering how it happened so fast?

How did she go from this?

To the smart, witty, mischevious four year old sitting on my couch?

Where did the baby go? The one who’s eyes and cheeks swallowed her face?

To say I adore this little girl is quite the understatement. She’s just awesome. And Lee and I both agree that our time with her has seemed especially fast. We sometimes struggle to remember her as a baby. I think it’s because, as babies go, she may have been the best infant on the planet. She slept 19 hours a day until she was six months old. She ate like a horse (maybe a pony) and she smiled near constantly.

There’s also the fact that she wasn’t a baby for very long.

As soon as she figured out she had the potential for mobility, she took off. By 5 months she was crawling, by 9 and a half months she was walking and by one she was giving me a heart attack by jumping off any and everything in sight.

Before she was two, she was a big sister – a role that she was born to play.

But this contributed to the feeling that somehow she’s just grown up too fast. I feel like I missed it. Even though I relished in her girlness as a baby, now that’s it’s so far removed, I feel like it happened too fast. And now this small person stands before me. How did that happen?

I love having a girl sandwiched between two boys. She brings a bit of sensitivity to the bunch. Not much, of course, because she makes it known she wants to be one of the guys.

I look forward to seeing these relationships grow as they get older – to see the boys protect their sister and Tia look after her brothers.

It’s been one heckova year for Tia. There have been a lot of milestones reached. Most good. Some, ahem, not so good.

And here we are, Feburary 2, and I’m wondering how we got here so fast. Tia pranced into our room at 6:15 this morning and, with her tiny mouth inches from my ear, stage whispered, “Moooom. I’m four now.”

I know, sweet girl. I know.

Happy Birthday, Katya Rose.

Last year, I wrote this post for her birthday. It’s still one of my favorite posts. I’m not sure I could ever say it better than that.

Filed Under: Kids, Motherhood, Tia Tagged With: Happy Birthday, Katya Rose

Nobody said we were smart

February 1, 2010 by Kelli

Tomorrow is a big day. A day when we will begin to see some of the mysteries unravel. We’ll find out if Juliet is still alive, if Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Jin and Hurley are back where they began, if time got rebooted, if Sayyid lives, and “what lies in the shadow of the statue?”

Oh – and our daughter turns four. Could the day be more exciting?!

In preparation for the final season of LOST, Lee and I have been staying up, ahem, rather late this last week rewatching all of last season. And last night, even though we knew that the boys would probably wake up in the middle of the night due to colds, we decided to watch two episodes because we had four episodes left to watch and we, my friends, know what’s important in life.

And sure enough, not two hours after I went to sleep, Landon was crying/hacking in his bed. It was 1:01 am. So I dragged myself up, gave him medicine, cuddled and rocked him and stumbled back to bed.

At 2:02 he was crying again, so I brought him to bed with me in the hopes that we could both get a little sleep. At 2:22 he was sitting up in our bed, his chubby face inches from mine whispering, “Hi Mommy. I yub you, Mommy? Yere’s (where’s) Woan Tia (Sloan and Tia) Mommy?” And despite the fact that I needed a crowbar to pull my fatigued eyelids apart, I had to smile at his cherubic little face grinning at me in the dark.

So I dragged myself back out of bed and took him back to his room. We rocked a bit more, then I laid him down and got back in bed at 3:03. At 3:23 I stumbled back to his room to give him his doggy book, which had fallen out of his bed and he was insisting be returned to him.

At 4:04 (I swear I’m not making these times up – it was weird) I looked at the clock for the last time as Landon moaned and whimpered from his bed. The next thing I knew, it was 6:26 and Sloan was standing over the bed.

The timing of all the wake ups was a little creepy and served as evidence that when you spend too much time lost in the mysteries of LOST, strange and crazy things start happening. Not to mention the fact that you dream about polar bears, time travel and smoke monsters.

If we were smart, we’d forgo the LOST viewing this evening and go to bed early. But that’s not going to happen. We’ve made it this far so we’re committed now. And so I shall drink my coffee, yawn so wide I suck the oxygen out of the room and power forward. Because life is all about priorities, people!

I’m off now to pack the make up under my saggy eyes…

Filed Under: Lee, Sickness Tagged With: LOST

Some kids want ponies…

January 29, 2010 by Kelli

We’re driving down the road in the (smokin’ hot) minivan when we pass it. As we drive by, Sloan’s head whips around so far and so fast that I wonder briefly if he might be part owl given his ability to crane his neck to ungodly angles.

“Oh. my. gosh. Mom. Did you just see that? Did you seeeeeee that?! Wow!” he exclaims (and when I say exclaims I mean screeches to the point that my ears start to bleed). He’s now all but sitting on his knees staring out the back window.

“What?” I ask.

“That yellow car. Did you see it?”

I rack my brain. I vaguely remember us just passing a yellow sports car. “Yeah, I saw it,” I said. “What about it?”

“I saw a Transformer head peek out the top. It looked right at me!”

“Oh really?” I ask, highly amused.

“Mom – it was Bumblebee! It really was mom. I saw his head stick up out of the front of the car and he looked at me. That was totally Bumblebee. Totally Awesooooome.”

Upon arriving home, he sat in front of his bedroom window for a solid thiry minutes, “just in case Bumblebee comes to our house.” And for days afterward, he reminded us that somewhere in the greater St. Louis area, a real life Bumblebee was on the loose. “I wonder if Optimus Prime and Star Scream are in our city too?” he asked on more than one occasion.

A few days after the momentous Transformer sighting, Sloan came tearing into our bedroom where I was folding clothes laying down for a few minutes. He had the phone in his hand and wanted to call his dad, who was out shopping for a new car.

“Mom, can I puh-leeze call daddy and tell him to buy that yellow car we saw the other day.”

“Honey, I don’t think daddy is looking for a little yellow car – he needs a bigger car.”

“Aaawww…I really want him to bring that car home. That way I could have my very own for real Transformer.” And with his head hanging low, he moped out of the room.

Some kids want their parents to buy them ponies…mine – he wants an honest to God Transformer – and we won’t give it to him.

We’re so mean.

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Sloan Tagged With: Imagination, Transformers

The Minivan Mom Runs

January 27, 2010 by Kelli

I ran track in high school. I don’t really know why. I wasn’t that good at it and running has never been my favorite thing. I enjoyed the comraderie and I was a sprinter so the running I had to do was in short bursts – much better for a girl who’s brain starts cussing her out once she hits the half mile mark.

I also enjoyed the boys. Mmmm…the boys. Come to think of it, it may have been the boys that kept me coming back each year for another season. I enjoyed running as long as I could exercise my flirting skills.

Ahem.

Actually, I started my track career as a high jumper, something that I had at least a little natural talent in, but had to quit when I developed a stress fracture in my back. But rather than quit altogether, I decided I would just become a runner. Only I quickly discovered I wasn’t exactly a runner.

I’ve always longed to be able to say I’m a runner, though. When Lee and I were first married, we met a crazy older couple who told us that running was a great way to strengthen a young marriage. They were training for their second marathon together and convinced us to train for a half marathon.

So, in our love struck foolishness, we agreed and began running. And we quickly learned that trying to train for a race together would likely be the demise of our marriage. We’re both highly competitive, but one of us is naturally a better athlete than the other.

I’ll give you one guess as to which one it is.

My husband is a super freak when it comes to athletics. He’s all, “I hate to run. It’s so hard and boring.” Then he pops out and run 5 miles in 40 minutes while barely breaking a sweat. And quite frankly, it infuriates me. The only plus was that since I was stuck running behind him most of the time, I got to stare at his backside while he ran. Bonus for me…but still annoying.

So Lee dropped out of the training after a couple of weeks and decided he didn’t need or want to run a half marathon. I, however, stuck with and got up to 8 miles when I hurt my foot, had to take a break and never started up again.

Fast forward seven years. I was once again duped by a friend into running a marathon relay. My friend convinced me that it would be easy. Four of us would divide a marathon and would accomplish the race that way. “You can have the last leg,” she said. “It’s the easiest.”

L to the I to the A to the R! The final 6.3 miles was all up hill. I nearly died, folks. Did you hear me? I NEARLY DIED!

One week later I found out I was pregnant (surprise!) with Landon. And when complications with the pregnancy arose, I stopped running…and never started up again.

Fast forward to today. I have lost all the baby weight from three children. Go me! But there’s one problem. Areas of my body are soft and squishy where once they were much firmer. Not cool.

Combine the squishiness with the fact that my husband has decided he is going to run a half marathon in April and is already up to running 3.5 miles after only a couple weeks of training and I’m chomping at the bit to dive back in.

I may hate running, but I’m not one to sit around and let my husband show me up. Competition – it’s what killed the cat. You thought it was curiosity, didn’t you?

So, I started running again this week. I did a mile on Monday (I was heaving with embarrassing aplomb) and today the goal is to do a mile again – just a little faster.

And so, here I go. I will be chronicling my adventures in running here in an attempt to spur myself on and to find comic relief in what I believe to be the very un-funny process of running. This has the potential to go one of two ways – I fall madly in love with running and experience the “runner’s high,” (not likely) or I fall flat on my face (figuratively…and maybe liturally) and learn once and for all that running is not for me.

Because the temps are significantly below freezing right now and the only thing that sounds worse to me than running is frostbite, I will have to do the dreaded exercise on a treadmill for awhile. Awesome. Now I get to have an audience as I galump along.

When it warms up, I will hit the road. Now if I could just find some cute boys to surround me while I run, that would help…

Filed Under: Exercise, Running Tagged With: Runner's Log

This is why daddy is so much fun

January 26, 2010 by Kelli

Nearly every evening, our home is filled with delighted shreeks, hysterical giggles and the occasional tears – and all of it is caused by the man that our kids call “Daddy.”

He’s a good daddy. He knows how to love his kids. Even if he’s exhausted, if they come to him with big eyes and ask him to wrestle, he will almost always say yes. Particularly if Tia blinks her huge blue eyes in his direction. Usually I have to scrape his heart off the floor so he can answer her.

The wrestling is loud, it’s crazy and it’s rough. He doesn’t hold back – not even with the girl. And when she cries, he reminds her that if she wants to play she has to buck up and be tough. And she will take a deep breath, brush the tears off her face and dive back in.

And it’s not only wrestling – there’s also tickling, some hide and seek and a good deal of chasing. In short, it’s good, good fun. I leave you with evidence.

What about you guys? How do your kids have fun with their daddies?

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Lee

One more week

January 25, 2010 by Kelli

For one more week, I get to tell people that I have a six year old, a three year old and a two year old. Then it changes when this girl turns four:

For a couple of months now we have been threatening to make her stay in bed all day long on Feburary 2, telling her that we were going to make her stay three forever.

Then we realized she didn’t get the joke and she was genuinely concerned that we weren’t going to let her turn four. This was proving to be devastating because, you see, for Tia four is a stepping stone. It’s a stepping stone to five and when she is FIVE, my friends, the world will be her oyster.

Because at FIVE she gets to climb the rock wall at the gym. She’s going to be sorely disappointed the day after her birthday when I tell her she’s got 364 more days before that momentous event.

For now, though, I get to say she’s three. My adorable, sweet, fun little three year old.

Incidentally, it still freaks me out when I’m recording birthdates and I have to write down that I had a baby in 2006 AND 2007. What were we thinking?!

Just one more week…

*all photos were taken by this awesome gal, who also happens to be my sister-in-law.

Filed Under: Motherhood, Tia

My view from here

January 21, 2010 by Kelli

The kids are with my mom this afternoon. I have a small chunk of time in which to be productive but I don’t know where to start. So I’m writing a blog post. And I’m convincing myself that it’s necessary – that it’s work. Because that’s how I roll. Some people, when they get overwhelmed, get hyperfocused…but me? I get flustered.

This is me, flustered.

If you’ll notice Tia’s coat is stratigically placed to cover the dishes in the sink, which it seems pointless to have done since I just told you the dishes are piled in the sink.

*sigh*

Yesterday, as I surveyed my disaster of a home (a home that had, incidentally, been spotless just days before) I felt entirely overwhelmed. So I sent out an SOS on Facebook. Because that only seemed natural.

The responses I got ranged from funny (cry publicly until someone decides to help you out, drink heavily and let little magical elves come in and do the work) to poignant (hang in there because time flies and pretty soon you’ll be old, the house will be empty…and it will still be a mess.)

But one response really struck me. It’s nothing ground breaking – I’ve heard this before and I do know it, but my friend Tina’s word were so sincere and true that I wanted to share them with you. She said:

“Although we spend most of our time like a pet mouse running round and round on a wheel never seeming to get anywhere, I have seen the fruit of seasoned mothers with older children, reared with responsibility in the love of Jesus. It gives me hope that I will reap much fruit for my labor – it is just not quite harvest time.”

Isn’t that a great word?

Yes, my house is a mess and it will always be a mess. Yes, there are drawers and cabinets that are literally bursting they are so full. They practically scream at me to unload and organize them each time I pass, and yet they also remind me that they hold the treasured possessions of my treasured possessions. And right now my work is to pour into those three tiny lives.

Yes, I can better manage my time so that I can get a few things done at a time (something that goes almost completely against my personality, I should add. I like to knock it all out at once, not do a little bit. It’s sort of an all or nothing approach that’s not all that condusive to managing a home with small children…I’m working on it.) But really, in the end, will it matter if my house is immaculate? Do I really want to sacrifice the quiet moments when I am pouring into their hearts and ministering to their spirits just so the laundry can be properly put away?

No, I don’t. And I don’t say that just because I hate putting away laundry. Well…maybe I do.

Today, I choose to put aside the gloom and flustered-idity (mm-hmm, that’s exactly what I said) of my circumstances. Today I choose to rejoice in the few moments of solitude and go about my work joyfully, despite the fact that there is more than I could ever hope to accomplish. Today I choose to enjoy the moment and not wish it away.

And I encourage you to do the same.

(Although, if I’m being honest, I have to say that I’m kinda holding out hope that magical elves do appear in my house armed with Comet and a toilet bowl brush…but that’ll probably never happen.)

Now, I’m off to accomplish the one things that I can do in my short amount of time and it really is something I must do. I’m going to take a shower.

And empty the dishwasher.

Yay me!

Filed Under: Family, Motherhood

In which I get all political again

January 20, 2010 by Kelli

I know, I know…politics-ugh.

But it’s worth noting that I am extremely proud of Massachusetts for their historical election yesterday. That was an election that affected our entire country and I know I am joined by many when I breathe a sigh of relief that the balance of power has been shifted.

I do not believe that any one party ever deserves to have such a majority in Washington. I know those people were voted into those positions, but there should be limits on how much weight one party can carry. Because when the balance is too lopsided, the American people suffer.

I don’t like being bullied. I don’t like being told that this thing which we are doing is what’s best for you when I know for a fact it is not what’s best for me, my family or my neighbors. I don’t like being painted as uncaring or selfish because I am opposed to a universal health care bill that I am certain will fail and will leave us further in a financial rut.

It doesn’t mean I don’t grieve for the families who don’t have health care. It doesn’t mean I think the system we have now is squeaky clean and doesn’t deserve a face lift. It doesn’t mean I’m heartless. All it means is that I don’t think that universal health care will work and I don’t support the bill they are trying to pass.

President Obama came into office promising change and hope. I did not vote for him, but I desperately wanted to believe him one year ago. I wanted to buy into the ideal that he set before us. I wanted him to succeed. I really did – because if he doesn’t succeed what does that mean for our country?

Unfortunately, I believe all that he set before us were nothing but ideals. His inexperience in leadership has shown itself in epic proportions throughout this first year of office. He’s a master orator. He’s appealing. He’s young, energetic, handsome and seems like a fun guy to be around. But he has some growing to do in the area of leadership.

I don’t want a dictator. I want a leader who’s going to listen to the people and truly do what’s right. You can’t please everyone, I know this. But when a vast majority of the people are opposed to something, it’s time to step back, take a breath and reassess what you’re doing. That would not show weakness – on the contrary, that is leadership. It’s time to step up and quit being a mouthpiece and truly lead.

And so, with the historical election of Scott Brown, my prayer is that Washington will receive the wake up call that was issued to them yesterday. We the people won’t be bullied. We won’t be told what’s best for us-especially when it pertains to the care we receive from our health professionals. We are smart, we are educated, we know what’s right and we won’t passively walk into an inferno.

The government was never meant to be a giant wheel turning and manipulating the country into what they believe to be the perfect ideal. Our government has derailed big time – they are too big and too involved. It’s time to step back and give us back the freedoms that the founding fathers intended us to have. We the people want Washington’s support. We don’t want them dictating our lives.

Wake up, Washington. I am middle America and I am tired of being pushed around. It’s time for everyone out there to put their big boy pants on and be the leaders that they promised us they would be. I will be waiting in hopeful anticipation.

I am an idealist, but I have very realist tendencies. We’re in a fight right now and it’s a fight we must win, for our children and for the generations to come.

And thus ends my political rant. I will now commence talking about New Kids on the Block and my children. Sighs of relief heard all around.

Filed Under: politics Tagged With: Massachusetts elects Republican, Scott Brown

To the ladies of the ’80’s…you’re welcome.

January 18, 2010 by Kelli

Tonight I am taking a walk down memory lane. I’m travelling back to a day when life was simpler. It was filled with scrunchies and oversized tie-dyed Esprit bags. There were high tops and units belts, Trapper Keepers and jean jackets. Can you see it? Can you hear Whitney Houston belting out “I’m Your Baby Tonight?”

I am a child of the ’80’s. I give you evidence:

Ah yes, the ’80’s. That iconic era when the music was good and the styles were horrific. I was a young child of the ’80’s so my exposure to the glory of that time was slightly sheltered and limited. I was a teenager of the ’90’s. An entirely different era altogether. I’ll reminisce on those days some other time.

You are on the edge of your seats in anticipation, are you not?!

But alas, my memories of the ’80’s and all they entailed almost always include the two girls that lived down the hill from us and served as frequent babysitters for my brother and I. These girls were ’80’s personified. They had the hair styles, the clothes, the perfume (Ex.cla.MA.tion!) and the music. Their rooms were decorated in hot pink, black and turquoise. They wore their hats sideways, their bangs shalaqued into a perfect, budding rose atop their foreheads.

And they loved…The New Kids on the Block! Oh yes they did. The original boy band. The men who paved the way for the likes of N’Sync, The Back Street Boys and that other band made up of boys… Radical!

These girls gave me oversized pins for my jean jacket and school bag so that I could carry around Jordan and Jonathon, Joey, Donnie and Danny everywhere I went. They let me watch the VHS tapes that they purchased at the concert and I oohed and aahed over their wicked dance moves while my teenage idols squealed with delight. They let me look at the polaroid shots they took on that “magical” night.

I lived vicariously through them out of necessity because when I went home I was only allowed to listen to Leslie Gore. I mentioned I was sheltered didn’t I?

And tonight, I am remembering those days. I’m remembering them through the music…the beautiful, glorious, terrible music.

Seriously, the New Kids weren’t very good.

But the were just. so. awesome!

And so I give you all this moment to step back in time. You can thank me later…or now. You can thank me now if you want.

You’re welcome.