Braving the weather

Isn't the weather crazy.  My family always goes to Eastern Oregon for one lovely winter trip.  Back in October we decided to come to Eagle Crest instead of our usual Sun River.  It just so happened that we planned our trip for this weekend.  So yesterday we put chains on in our driveway and made our way through snow and blizzard like conditions at 35 miles/hour to Sisters.  At times wind whipped across the road swirling snow and creating low visibility.  The temperature dropped to 3 over Santiam Pass (not including wind chill), but it was a fun adventure.  The kids were so excited to go on a trek through the snow and delighted in watching the temperature drop, icicles on the cliffs,  and snow swirl.  Not once did we slip, slide, or careen.  And now, watching the pink sky peek through over the distant horizons w/a promise of snow, I am glad we braved the weather and made the journey.

Tomorrow my youngest baby starts the big K...kindergarten.  She has been waiting for this day for as long as she can remember.  I can't believe this day has come.  This girl has been present (or at least almost) through many of my life changing events as a mother.  I was pregnant and teaching when I decided to open Sweet Peas.  I realized I was BSC (bat shit crazy) while teaching, pregnant with my third child, and opening a restaurant.  6 months later, my memory of a blessed early morning adventure begins when my now 5 year old daughter brightened our world.  After 2 hours of labor...we barely made it...I remember traveling in our party wagon.  I only call it this because on a rare trip to a concert in Eugene we figured out that stemless wineglasses fit perfectly into the cupholders (a bottle of wine fits there nicely too).  Being the crazy hostess I am I even made appetizers.  Our drive down was epic.  We offered to drive multiple friends.  Wine in the car.  Rocking to Jesse's girl, stopping first to watch part of a roller derby. Can't get better than that.  As I climbed into the mini-van that night I thought...this may not only be a party wagon, but a birthing wagon.  There was no sitting down in the mini-van.  I faced backward in the passenger seat as we made our way through Corvallis.  We walk through the plastic surrounding the Emergency room admitting doors, because the hospital was under construction and I yell at the man behind the desk that the elevator may be too big of a challenge because I'm having this baby NOW as I'm bent over absorbing the never ending contraction that is forcing my child into this world. I look up into the face of a friend, a soccer referee who I know from my indoor soccer league and who I really wish was not here at this moment.   After waddling, step by agonizing step, into the tiny room known as the elevator, there is no relief tangible.  Once I reach the labor/delivery floor and fall into my bed the midwife begins asking Mark if he is a hunter because she saw a deer on the way in and wants to know if he might want to shoot it.  I think I may be hallucinating as the "doctor" in the room asks if I can lay on my back so she can see the birth more clearly.  My hunter savvy midwife yells at the doctor that I will have this baby in whatever way I feel comfortable and....I relax, and with one great effort I have a 3rd daughter.  While laying between the starchy sheets, breastfeeding my day old daughter, I decide, I do not want to own a restaurant.  I've tried it and do not like it.  I do not like the weekends for free, I do not like serving sweet tea, I do not like the long hours at night, I do not like bills    stacked out of sight.

She was 1 month old and swaddled to my chest, when my oldest daughter crossed the threshold at our local Charter School.  This first year was a momentous occasion as it was the first year of operations.  After taking on PTO president, hot lunch originator, activity organizer, classroom volunteer, and board member, I decided, for my sanity to take a step back.  I will now, as my youngest embarks in her educational adventure, volunteer in the classroom, quit 3 of my 4 jobs, and focus a bit on my own interest/needs.

This child has been my challenge.  For the most part she is well behaved, however she has that extra something special.  When asking her what she might like to do on her last day of summer she tells me that she wants to organize her closet?  I am not flabbergasted because this is my youngest.  She loves to have everything in order.  I say "great, let's do it".  She says things like, "Mom, I have to go to the bathroom now.  Don't move or touch anything until I get back."  She wants to be part of it and have a schedule.  After her direct instructions are completed, we make molasses crinkles that she says, "melt in you mouth."  She wants to go to lunch at Kim Hoa's and eat salad rolls with peanut sauce.  Since we were there last week, I suggest Local Boyz, which she is down for because of the chicken and rice.  Her last wish is a pet store.  This particular pet store was a bit horrifying.  6 rats in a 5 gallon aquarium, which as we progressed, changed to 5 to 7 Chinchillas in a jar (not kidding), and large constricting snakes in broken 10 gallon aquariums.  I feel like I am in a "Steven Kellog" book of a grown character.  One who wishes to have 37 fish, 42 cats, 12 dogs, 18 mice, 39 rabbits, 4 tarantulas, and a dinosaur and that all reproduce...voraciously!  Aquariums stacked  7 high and two deep, filled with reptiles.  In another room, rabbits and guinea pigs, barely able to get cool.  An angry looking chinchilla who was either possessed or stuffed eyes me with a glassy stare. And then there is the smell.  I knew there was something dead and I knew something had defecated several thousands of times.  As Claire left, her whim, take them all home so they could run around in our yard.  Fun times.    

She is observant and sometimes that can be unfortunate.  Living in the PNW can be a problem when it comes to teaching children about diversity.  There is not much of that...diversity that is.      I do not condone or approve of it, but I think sometimes my children, especially this one is a bit racist.  While eating at a Vietnamese establishment,  crowded at lunch time with Asian patrons,  my youngest child looks up and asks, "Mom."  "Yea," I say.  "Why are there so many Mexicans in here?", she asks.  I wanted to swallow her tongue.  I distracted her by saying, "Look a fortune cookie.  I wonder what your fortune is?"  This summer hiking in the Redwoods, we passed many Asian family members, obviously having a family reunion.  Claire asked why there were so many brown people hiking in the forest.  Living in a predominantly white society, I am unsure how to proceed to allow my children to see people as people and not as a specific race.  But that is not the lesson here.  It is when I see her sharing her sports equipment at the park with any child.  It is when she names her ballerina after a cousin and is upset at night because she can't find her and wants to sleep with her.  It is when she feels compassion for a fellow being.   Her observations are innocent but her kindness knows no bounds.

I am proud of my girl and much saddened by her entrance into kindergarten.  My kids have never gone to daycare, pre-school, or any institutionalized program/facility before being school-aged.  I do not remember life without a child to tend to.  I am unsure of how to proceed, but I welcome the opportunity.  I think I can manage.

Tuesday:
8:22 am:  Dropped kids off at school and picked up gifts for teacher's baskets for teacher appreciation week. Placed gifts in black reusable shopping bag.
8:45 Meeting for work. Received important papers to fill out.  Walked to car.  Placed papers on seat of car.
10:00  At home did laundry.  Grabbed Anna's blue sweater from clean laundry to take with us to friend's house because it was getting chilly.
11:15 Walked to car and placed Anna's sweater on seat on top of important papers.
11:30  Picked Anna up from school and went to da Vinci days headquarters to pick up application for Muddy Creek for da Vinci days.   Placed on seat of mini-van.
12:00-3:30  Kids took nap, I graded papers, and I made list of things we needed at grocery store to survive until I had time to do some real shopping.
3:30  Hailey home from school so we ran to the grocery store.  Bought yogurt, granola, fruit.  Placed in black reusable shopping bag.
5:00 Went to friend's house for dinner.
10:30 Got home with sleeping children.  Picked up reusable black shopping bag.  Placed on top of groceries, important papers, Anna's sweater, and da Vinci days application.  Put black reusable shopping bag over shoulder.  Picked up work bag with laptop in it.  Threw over shoulder.  Picked up coats.  Picked up sleeping 3 1/2 year old.  Began lugging load into house.  Stepped on edge of driveway, sprained ankle, shoved Anna inadvertently into Irises.  Saved Claire's head from ugly contact with concrete. Landed on black reusable grocery bag.
11:00 Kids in bed, unloaded BRGB.  Yogurt on application.  Yogurt on important papers.  Yogurt on clean blue sweater.  Yogurt on gifts to teachers for teacher appreciation day.

Dad, Helper Extraordinaire

I think my dad is superman.  Unfortunately, he does too.  So when a hitchhiker needs a ride he's ready and willing as long as he is packing and no vulnerable family members are present. On a trip back from Santa Cruz after dropping off my eccentric Great Uncle Jim, my father, just over the Oregon border on highway 1, spots a hitchhiker. Always wanting to assist his fellow man he becomes as excited as a child whose parents just agreed to a puppy after 6 years of harassment. Yet he has a plan that involves positioning a son in the back seat poised to choke at the slightest hint of aggression and also makes sure his concealed weapon is within easy reach  he pulls over to rescue said "man in need". As the rain pours off of the man's slicker into the front seat as he bends down to have a seat my dad yells, "need a ride?" The hitchhiker drops jovially into the seat with my brother crouched like a tiger, feet on the seat, arms splayed like a ninja ready for the choke out signal from his father. As they pull onto the highway, my dad asks why the man is out on the road in weather like this. Hitchhiker, it turns out was just released from prison, scored some weed within the first hour of freedom and was making his way to a party in some Southern Oregon taverny shit hole . He insisted for 127 miles, every 2 minutes, that he repay my dad's kindness with bags of weed. Father, all x-mormon and x-cop of him politely declined for the remainder of the trip. Upon reaching their destination, hitchhiker insisted dad come in for a drink. He wouldn't take no for an answer until like a person coming off of an acid high and realizing they are standing barefoot next to a freeway where their shoes are being run over frequently by mac trucks, he enters reality. My brother "crouching applesauce, hidden tiny hands" was poised like a cat of the night, with glowing eyes, ready to choke in the back seat, became suddenly visible. The man decided there was no time for warm goodbyes, hastily squeaked a thank you, and scurried inside the dive tavern like a mouse seeking refuge in the brush from a diving, driven, hawk.

bodily substances

Yesterday started out as any other weekend day. The kids woke up too early and wishing they would sleep in for once I wondered why on school days I couldn't drag them out of bed. Of course the first thing the children wanted to do before the sun was even up was to hold the new baby chicks we had just acquired at the chicken swap. Children never seem to want to do anything sensible at god forsaken hours...not read books, play quietly in their room, or listen to their new cd player-no the first idea that hatched in my kids' head before they were even fully awake was to hold chickens. I remember when we (my brothers and I) woke up on the weekends and made even the slightest noise before 10 am my father would roar, "is the house on fire?", through the closed bedroom door. We then would answer, "no", and he would respond, "then not another peep". Instead of this I tell my children that they can go play with the chickens as long as they just let us sleep for a little while longer and change out of their pjs first. That was my first mistake. It only took 10 minutes for the end of our morning "sleeping in" to fade like the remnants of the dream still hemming my thoughts. With a munchkin voice somewhere in the room saying, "chicken poop on the carpet", I shot out of bed like a rocket. It wasn't an easy transition. I rushed out to the garage and found 6 piles of poo lying around, 2 of them with child like footprints and tracks leading into the house. One child had feces from wrist to shoulder, while yet another had remnants on the back of her pant leg and on her back pocket. The 3rd little cherub had tracked the lovely fragrant repulsion through the house. Five minutes later in my robe scrubbing up chicken poop and remember moments ago when I was in a cozy bed, I rued the day I ever decided to have pets. Having taken care of most of the chicken excrement disaster, children bathed, 2nd set of clothes for the day, I began to prepare breakfast (what else are you going to do with 3 shiny faces smiling proudly at their well executed plan to get Mommy out of bed). I noticed my youngest, who always helps with meals, looked a little pale. She complained of a headache (she actually said "my knuckle hurt", which translates to "neck", which when she showed me was in fact the back of her head). She hadn't gotten much sleep the days prior, missing naps and going to bed later than usual because of our busy schedule, so I attributed any lethargy to this. I took her temp. and it registered at 99.1, which is in her normal range, but I gave her some baby Tylenol just in case. I am allergic to red food dye and I discovered 2 minutes after giving my baby "cherry flavored" medicine that she was too, as was evident from the vomit. I gave up trying to wipe puke out of her hair and put her in the tub...again. After she was washed, dried, and dressed, I proceeded to finish breakfast. She needed to go potty so I left her on the toilet, verbally checking in to see when the wiping job would need to occur. After 10 minutes, which was an unusually long time for her to do her business, I went in to check on her only to discover brown streaks on the toilet seat that she was continually trying to clean up by licking her finger and rubbing it around on the white porcelain. The third bath/outfit of the day had me questioning why I ever cleaned up anything to begin with. My favorite part...all before 9:00 am.

Cabins in Oregon (and afar)

When camping with kids, we've decided that if it is raining or if there is a chance of rain (when is there not in Oregon) , and when our budget allows, we will stay in cabins. Mark and I have explored this state for many years, first with our siblings and parents, and then with each other, and now with our kids. The cabins that we would recommend to others are as follows:

Leaping Lamb Farms: Charming cozy cabin located on a small Oregon farm featuring a meandering stream and farm fresh eggs and produce available for purchase. When you stay here breakfast is provided. After enjoying local nourishment and walking the perimeter of the farm, take off your shoes and dangle your feet in the creek. Cocktails and appetizers on the deck complete a lazy summer day. Escape for a relaxing weekend, or even month. Call 541-487-4966 for more details.

L.L. Stub Stewart State Park: These cabins are ideal for several families. You can reserve a block of them, 1/family. Look down the ridge and out toward the coast range mountains over a crackling, wind whipped fire. Enjoy evenings, sitting around a fire, roasting smores, watching kids race bikes down trails. For an adventurous day trip follow one of the newest "Track to Trails" renovations. This trail stretches for 20 miles from Vernonia to Banks with the campground located 1/2 way between these two communities. If you head down to Banks, you literally don't have to pedal for 7 miles. Once you turn around it can be a difficult for children to pedal the entire distance back to the campground. Or you can do what I did and stay at a rest area, hit up strangers for wine, and let your husband hustle up the hill to the van, coming back to retrieve you once you're fully "relaxed" (or you could do a shuttle, but eehhh...I like the husband option, granted he's willing). Call 1-800-452-5687 for reservations.

Suttle Lake Yurts: Although we didn't have a pleasurable experience when we went (thanks to buckets of rain and no wood), a magical weekend could be had if you had plenty of fire wood and snow was plentiful enough to snowshoe/cross-country ski around the lake. It could actually be quite magical and peaceful if weather conditions cooperate (which they usually do at this elevation). Makes a wonderful mid-winter getaway.

Harstine Island: This is the one structure not in Oregon, but it is a great destination if you want to spend time on Puget Sound. It is remote and best if you bring all of your food for the entire time. If you correlate your trip with a minus tide the amount of sea life to explore and observe is absolutely breathtaking. Kayaks and canoes are great for the experienced but must be used with caution (Puget Sound can be dangerous and cold-hypothermic inducing 45 degree water). Great views, enticing decks, and right on the beach, this house is a great location for isolated time with family and friends. Call 503 936-3664 for more information. Also if you could mention my name if you do make a reservation I'll get a little monetary reimbursement.

Restaurants that don't suck (and are kid friendly)

Living where we do, I feel a bit spoiled when it comes to good food. The slow food movement, abundance of small farms, more choices for organic and local foods along with increased knowledge about pesticides and mass produced food have led many communities in the Willamette Valley to embrace natural, whole, organic, local, sustainable foods. We are sandwiched between two larger cities which spotlight the culinary arts giving us many amazing choices for where we eat and what we put into our bodies. Although, I enjoy eating anywhere I'm going to focus on the nourishing places that exist closer to Corvallis.

Buena Vista House Cafe and Bed and Breakfast: Nestled under apple trees, with a guitar's song weaving through branches, pizza's waft blended with fragrant blossoms, the tables are dressed for guests. The tri-fecta perfection is present on the menu with local, organic, and seasonal food and wine. A blend of outdoor friendly weather, 2 to 3 families, a reservation and pizza make a memorable evening. The Buena Vista House could not be located in a more appropriate location as this Willamette Valley that spotlights quality farm to table dining. Dinners are Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Brunch is also available Saturday and Sunday mornings. Reservations only. Call (503) 838-6364 for more information.

Cornucopia-Eugene, OR (the one on 17th): After picking up my husband from the airport, a bite to eat was in order. We wanted to eat outside (it was uncharacteristically not raining), allow the kids to have some fun, and we wanted good food as well as an exciting beer selection. Cornucopia on 17th in Eugene provided all of these things. After sitting out back under the arms of Douglas (Fir) and some awnings/sails, we basked in the few minutes the sun peeked from behind the rain makers. They do have a kid's menu, but since I steer clear of these (non-nutritious nasty stuff-that tastes awesome!), I chose food for my chillens off the grown up menu, splitting plates for their dining pleasure. The beer selection is fab, on tap as well as an entire self-select double glass paneled refrig. full of the stuff. Since it was Friday, fish was what we craved and their fish and chips were splendid (not too greasy). The kids adult grilled cheese was so cool according to Anna because there were two colors of cheese (white and orange). Salads looked amazing, soups wafting over from the next table smelled heavenly, and other entrees left me curious enough to want to come back again. For hours call (541) 485-2300.

Papa's Soul Food Kitchen: After visiting Memphis several time as the Nanny of a family who's relatives were from there, I learned the delectable delight of pulled pork with slaw on a bun. As I sunk my teeth into this not just a sandwich, I was instantly hooked...no addicted. Being raised on Mormon casseroles, rice and raisins, and other large family fare, which definitely have their place, I had never experienced much in the way of spicy, deep, smoky, intense flavor as I experienced that night. I had no idea what a dry rub was. Pork shoulder? No gravy? homemade BBQ sauce that's spicy? It was amazing! Since that day and many other sandwiches from The Commissary in German Town, TN, later, I have been on a search for the perfect pulled pork sandwich in the Northwest. I think I may have found it at PSFK. Along with their lovely outdoor seating (very agreeable to kids) and adult kool-aid served in mason jars (not agreeable to kids), PSFK is a don't miss spot when headed to Eugene. Located on Blaire in a funky neighborhood. Call (541) 342-7500 for hours and directions.

Junkyard Dogs: The best hot dogs west of Chicago or even, dare I say it N.Y.? and they have a choice to honor every famous hot dog city. You have spicy, jalapeno, neon green relish dog, Louisiana style. Dogs with pickles, dogs with mayo, french dressing, cheese, if you like dogs and toppings there's a hot dog there for you. They also have kids' trays with a hot dog on a stick and a hot dog candy (gross-but they love it)...if you're going for hot dogs you may as well throw healthy eating to the wind, even for the kids! The outdoor seating is fun but can be a little distracting when a semi rolls by (keep the kids close). On 99E between Harrisburg and Junction City. For more information call: (541) 998-3232

Block 15: Consistently the best beer of any brewery that I've been to. Not only do they have their very lovely "regulars" but their ability to come up with interesting, amazingly strong and tasty selections wows me every time. I also love that they support many local small farms and provide many organic and sustainable (the tri-fecta perfection again) meals. The chalkboard tables and happy hour menu pair perfectly with children as does their story book menus. Only drawback are the crowds. Get there early for dinner (like 4:30). 541-758-2077 is their phone.

Nutcakes: I love having high end baked goods, especially done right at a French Bakery, however there is always a need every once in a while (I've been here 4 times in the last 7 days) for a good doughnut. Maple bars with bacon, Smore's bars with marshmallow cream filling and graham cracker sprinkles on chocolate frosting, and lemon curd filled doughnuts is just a sampling of the amazing selections at this newest shop in Philomath, OR. They also have started to serve lunch and breakfast, but I think their doughnuts are the shining star. Their prices are also amazing. A box of 15 to 20 day old doughnuts is $8.00. They just have coffee, not fancy lattes, which I kind of appreciate (specializing in the one thing you do well is sometimes lost). Once you discover this place you may have to erase your memory before you have to erase some extra booty. Sitting outside in the early sunshine, enjoying coffee, and delectable doughnuts while your kids destroy the flowerbed searching for bugs and tromping on plants, nothing could be better (Hey kids get outta there). For details call (541) 929-3333

Destination Restaurant

Beck (Not Kid Friendly): It is very rare for a restaurant to get it ALL right. Atmosphere-waterfall wall, floor to ceiling windows overlooking Whale Cove as waves crash over the rocks, view of simple manicured garden below restaurant on bluffs, tables spaced far enough apart to afford a little romantic privacy. Wine/Beer-extensive list many local choices and pairings with food, including special meals, where each course is paired with a different wine. Service-never lacking, someone always meeting your needs. Creative-if you don't see something on the menu you like let your server know. Chef is open to wowing you. And lastly and most importantly The Food- Amazing, inventive, simply delicious. I will go back every time I can afford to. Hands down the best place ever to eat a meal. The chef has even been nominated by Food and Wine magazine as Best New Chef. Located just South of Depot Bay. Call 541-765-3220 for hours and directions.

Summer Fun in Oregon

Mark and I, I must admit are the adventurous sort. We car camp at places with few amenities (mainly no flush toilet or showers), hike, take the long way, travel most of the summer, and love to find out of the way places. With summer coming up and people asking where some good places to spend some time off the beaten path that may be hidden, I thought I would list a few.

Bike Path/Eugene Oregon: The extensive pathway along the Mckenzie River in Eugene, Oregon wind through parks, near community gardens, and at the base of Skinner's Butte, with an amazing viewpoint of the city, if you choose to hike it. You can pack a picnic lunch and eat at one of the continuous green spaces with mature shade giving trees, at one of the expansive and child awing play structures, or within earshot of the river's bubbling course. Or you can choose to eat at Mcmenamins-North Bank or Valley River Inn, both with tables outside within view of the river and right along the bike path. Biking here with the family makes a great family outing. Bring Frisbees, soccer balls, etc. for a side activity. Parks also are inhabited by many ducks that are fun to observe as well as other wildlife. To get there, drive to Valley River Center, parking in the back (near Macy's) and follow the bike paths East. If you want to eat at a restaurant stay on the North Side of the river. If not, the South side is a bit more picturesque and is easier on the senses (less traffic noise). Note: If you are into biking with the fam., there is another path South of Eugene near Cottage Grove that is part of "Tracks to Trails". Running through small communities and open country, this trail is ideal especially if you start at the East end (higher elevation and ride "downhill" coasting most of the way, which makes it a breeze for kids to go long distances,) and end at the West end of the trail. Two cars would be needed, one at each end. Another Tracks to Trails bike path runs between Vernonia and Banks, West of Portland near the coast range mountains.

Lone Pine Farms: Fresh produce (mostly-some from Mex. and Chile), entertaining playground for the kiddos (complete with merry-go-round), Goats that run on an above building ramp that has food bins and a hoist that allows you to feed them, a gold fish pond, local ice cream, and other animals present in the corrals and fields for observing. Perfect for a picnic lunch. LPF is located on River Road, which runs from Junction City to Eugene. For more information call 541.688.4389.

Pfeiffer winery: One of Oregon's oldest vineyards, this winery boasts ponds that trickle into each other providing soothing sounds while you enjoy the ample picnicking space. Although the tasting room doesn't allow children, two families could take turns tasting while kids catch bullfrogs and enjoy a pre-packed snack. Southwest of Monroe off Territorial Rd. In Monroe turn right off of Hwy 99 onto Territorial. Drive about 4 miles and look for signs on the right that will eventually lead you to Pfeiffer. For further details call (541) 998-2828.

Chatoe Rogue: A lovely tasting room with Rogue Beers on tap. Their menu is a little weak, but you can bring your own food (get salami and cheese from Natalia and Cristoforo's in Corvallis). You can only eat the food you've brought outside so make sure the weather is cooperative before heading here. Outside the picnic table and completely flat lawn invite children and adults to play soccer, boccie ball, croquet, and any other number of fun outdoor activities. The farmhouse located on the property can be rented by room or the entire house. If you rent the entire house you can have friends camp on the lawn, making this an ideal place for weddings. Another perk of this particular tasting room is that since it is located on the Willamette River, you can float here from Corvallis and arrange a pick up after you've enjoyed some libation. To get here, take 99w North from Corvallis and follow the signs. This destination is officially located in Independence. Call for more details (503) 838-9813.

Wings of Wonder: This butterfly house and garden is wonderful on a rainy summer day (which we know occurs in Oregon more than absolutely necessary). The butterflies (some larger than my toddler's head) are breathtaking. You may find yourself slipping into childlike behavior as a butterfly alights upon your shoulder and the whole world seems insignificant as you closely examine spots, lines, and metallic shimmers. Wings pulse up and down even when not in flight, children squeal, and we forget about time, dinner, errands, meaningless responsibilities. To find this peek into a rain forest follow 99W North from Corvallis and follow the signs. This destination is located in Buena Vista (and while you're there ride the ferry across the river and back-the kids love this-check the schedule. Hours vary. Call (503) 588-7979 for current closures). Call for more information (503) 838-0976 on WoW.

Suttle Lake Surprise

When the phone rang early Saturday morning of MLK weekend Mark rolled his eyes. "Can't we ever just sit here and enjoy our coffee, without interruption?", he whined. I ignored him and answered the phone. "We have a yurt reserved for the weekend and we can't use it because we're all sick", Cindy informed me, "we thought who is spontaneous enough to leave at this late notice and actually make use of our yurt and your name came up". I was flattered that I still could be identified as a "do something at the last minute" kind of person. Mark and I thought, "of course we'll go", packed up the van, and picked up the yurt reservation e-mail from Cindy on the way out of town. Perfect we thought...a yurt in the high cascades, in the snow, on a lake. Scenes of tranquil snow shoe/cross country ski adventures completely dominated our thoughts. We stopped along the way for supplies and since we had read that wood and water were available we didn't bother to bring more than one bundle for our non-electric, wood burning stove heated yurt. Upon arrival, the children were soaked to their core, running from van to yurt. Boots were not removed and within 17 seconds the entire floor of the yurt was blanketed in a cozy layer of mud, rain, and melting snow. Boots were removed and children were forced onto beds, couches and tables while a fire was encouraged to begin it's warming march through out frigid shelter. As the fire began to take hold in reality leaving the desires of our thoughts, the floor slowly began to dry. The rain outside was fierce and the wind threatened to break limbs and topple trees onto our canvased structure. Now what? After 2 hours the children had been through every crafty craft, book, and drawing paper. Hope for a ski or snow shoe was lost as the rain roared. The dvd player, usually my nemesis, now became my savior. One movie while "camping"= neglectful parent, Two movies while "camping" =reporting to CPS imminent, Three movies while enjoying the great outdoors=you may never have contact with your children's, children's pets, because you are showing such horrible parenting skills. The stove was so efficient that we were in our underwear by 10. Many beers and hours later (along with children who would not sleep), we settled into bed, sweaty and unable to sleep because of the pounding wind and blowing rain. At two in the morning as our last piece of wood was turned to ash, the true temperature of our experience snuck into the yurt through cracks in the walls and floor. The children began stirring and pjs were then located and everyone was dressed and re-inserted into sleeping bags. Once we woke up (like we ever slept), Mark looked at me and said, "could you please turn on the heat?" and "whose idea was this anyway?" We packed everything up quickly, stuffed cold bagels down the chicks gullets, melted snow for something to drink, and tried to take a walk to the lake. The two to five feet of snow that existed just 14 hours earlier was all but gone. Dog poo from the host's pup littered every square inch of snow barren ground. At the lake, said dog, greeted my 4 year old with raised hackles, and barred teeth. We showed up at Grandma's and Papa's house 4 hours early and chuckled as we drank Napa Valley wine, curled up with a book next to the wood burning stove, while the kids slept off their winter camping experience. What's funny is that one month after, Mark and I are convinced that we should do this trip again, "it'll be much better if we have wood, water, and towels", Mark says-did he forget the noise of the weather, the aggressive crap filled pooch, or the fact that next time we'd have to pay for this wonderful experience? I think it's a good idea...

Suprising Comfort

As I left our busy neighborhood and drove my daughter and classmates out to their country school, the peace of the wide open space began to seep into my soul like water into a dry sponge. I felt this change like a welcome companion as I left the bustling businesses and traffic choked hwy behind. The majestic beauty of Mary's Peak easing out from under the blanket of fog greeted our progress. A bald eagle rose off the valley floor and flew a man's height above our vessel. Quickly approaching the 40mph twist over Muddy Creek's swollen veins, I spied orange orbs presenting themselves in a small patch on the hillside. The dilapidated dwelling to the South looked like a lonely friend in need of some attention. Unknown horses struck the ground and tossed their heads wrapped like dolmas in their blankets at the corner where a horse my children called "Snowball" once begged for apples. Knowledge of their breathe was revealed in small clouds of condensation escaping their nostrils. Turning onto the final stretch a Christmas tree farm sat neatly in rows shadowed by the coast range mountains. The patchwork quilt of fog and trees clearly presented the inescapable intertwining of man and nature. Dropping the children off and returning on this trip back to my home, I already felt as if I were there.

This drive has always been a bit of a welcome homecoming. My grandparents had a dairy in the coast range mountains West of Eugene when I was growing up. The connection to the land I feel along with the education I received through visiting their farm is invaluable. Food is another direct connection to that land that I cultivate by growing a small amount of what we consume. The following recipe is as comforting as the beautiful scenery I experience when I drive carpool and as relatively simple as anything you can make in the kitchen (you can even grow all the veggies here):

The salad:

1 head of broccoli cut into florets
1 cup of fresh peas (or thawed frozen)
1 cup of shredded rotisserie chicken (optional)
4 stalks of cilantro finely chopped

The dressing:

1/2 cup olive oil or canola oil
1/2 cup peanut butter
3 Tbls. brown sugar
3 Tbls. tamari
2 Tbls. lime juice
1 tsp. powder ginger or 2 tsp. fresh grated ginger
1 clove of finely chopped garlic

Arrange salad in a bowl starting with the broccoli. Put all ingredients for dressing in a jar with a tight lid and shake vigorously. Pour dressing over salad and toss, or serve salad and have individuals add their own desired amount.

They're not dead, they're just behind the compost pile

A close friend, whose children are good buds with mine, invited us over for a birthday party. It was an uncharacteristically warm day in mid-November and after cake the kids went outside to play. Their house is at the front of their lot and the backyard slopes downhill away from the dwelling. The sandbox is situated under the apple trees and the play house (another favorite play area) is a few feet away on a concrete slab. The 4 1/2 year old children played while the moms cleaned up, looked at the garden, and visited on benches in the yard. When it was nap time for the two year old siblings, the mommies went inside to tuck the toddlers in. My close friend's husband who had been playing with the older kids followed us in to get ready to go back to work. After laying the wee ones down we began gabbing and suddenly realized that our older kids were still outside unsupervised. We went outside calling to them, which we had done many times, usually eliciting a response, and only heard eerie silence. As we called several more times, pausing to hear the munchkin voices respond, being left instead in silence, we began to worry. "What little stinkers, they're probably hiding", my friend hopefully interjected. We opened every cupboard, closet, and checked under each bed. No kids. I went upstairs and out to the street looking in bushes and peering through the underbrush of the deserted lot down the street. The other child's father ran up and down the street yelling for his son. At this point, trying to remain calm and collected, I asked my friend to call the police. She dialed the number and gave them the required information while I began to cry. Hiding my tears and trying to smooth the waver in my voice, every time I yelled, I continued searching for my sweet darling daughter. After scouring every shrub, every shadowed hiding place, for what seemed like an eternity, I stopped and stood in the street feeling the hysteria creep from the edges of my body, centering in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I might be sick thinking about what my father (who used to be a police officer) had planted in my mind. "If you are taken, you have almost no chance of surviving," he had reiterated again and again. "You must fight with everything you have, never get in the car, and run (because your chance of getting taken is much less than the certainty that you will die if you leave the scene of an attempted abduction)." What chance did a 4 year old have to survive in the case of an abduction. So helpless, so innocent...the scenarios played out in my head like a sick horror film. My thoughts went to a happier thought that we lived in Corvallis. A town of 50,000. Was something so awful as two 4 year old babies abducted by a pedophile or kidnapper in Corvallis likely to happen? NO!, not likely...Probably not likely. So where were they. Then my mind went to Brooke. 19. Sweet. Knowledgeable. Full of hope. I had known Brooke as a young girl and as the case of her disappearance had unfolded, the shocking nature of the crime had rocked me, unsettling beliefs of justice and familial/community protection. I couldn't think of what to do to find or save my daughter. Feeling the desire to take action I began knocking on neighbors doors. At the moment I knocked on a neighbor's door, I heard my friend say, "kids are you there?" She looked at me and said, "I think I hear one of them,". I ran into the yard and began yelling frantically. I then saw two faces appear from behind the compost bin. "We found a good hiding spot," my daughter said. "I'm glad you found us because it was getting stinky back there," my friend's son said. I was so relieved I couldn't stop the waterfall of tears that cascaded down my face. I grabbed my daughter and hugged the breath out of her, sobbing into her lavender scented hair. Breathing in her wonderful aroma I suddenly felt angry and didn't know whether to spank her or continue smothering her.

After tucking in the two older kids with books, cozy blankets, and special snugglies, my friend and I debriefed. Humorously she told me how when she had described what the kids were wearing. She first described her sons outfit as a red and white striped shirt, jeans, and boots. When they asked what the other child was wearing she said, "exactly the same thing." We had inadvertently dressed them in the same outfit.

Did you really want to see my hoo haa?

I was at a restaurant recently with my kids (minus Hailey) after visiting Grandma Rosie. We ordered food and of course some specialty coffee and enjoyed a lovely lunch, just us girls. Upon Claire's request of "BAA BAA" (potty), I hurried to the restroom, throwing away and recycling what was left of our lunch as quickly as possible and dragging the girls to the restroom. I placed Claire on the potty first, then Anna, and then I thought I would go as it was a long drive back to Corvallis. As I sat down I did one of those martial arts moves blocking Claire's every grab at the sanitary napkin disposal, garbage can (as it was in reach of the toilet), and toilet paper dispenser. I felt like a toilet ninja keeping one block ahead of my 20 month old. As I began to relieve myself I realized there was one area I could not block from my ever curious toddler and that was the door. It had a lever handle that could be released with one ill placed hand of a mischievous toddler. As I watched in horror, she popped the lock and opened the door onto a dining full of curious onlookers. As I didn't want to stand up and flash my hoo haa to many surprised observers, I reached out with every ounce of will I could muster and snagged Claire's coat and screaming in the high pitched tones only children can hear and no one else can decipher I shrieked, "Anna shut the door, shut the door". I'm sure only the dead, zombies, and frightened children could understand the words at the pitch that was being reached by their mother. My older daughter obliged and I continued with my business until I had finished and wondered how I was going to face the 12 tables of people that just got a glimpse into my most private of affairs. After washing all of the involved hands, I exited the bathroom staring at the floor. Weaving through tables hurriedly toward the door hearing patrons say things like "aren't kids great", and chuckling, I couldn't imagine a place I would rather not be.

wal...NUTS!!!
I recently went to a neighborhood potluck. Fun right. Actually it was. Nice people, good food, stimulating conversation. It was a potluck and I brought a salad that was on the menu at "Sweetpeas". It required candied walnuts, which I candied in my cast iron skillet, which was on my stove top...as usual. It was delicious with Amish blue cheese, D'anjou pears (thinly sliced), the aforementioned walnuts all on a bed of spinach, with a swirling of poppy seed vinaigrette. My kids enjoyed it as well as the participants of the potluck. When I returned home, my husband smiled a sweet loving smile and asked a very simple question. "Did you make that salad with candied walnuts from the restaurant?" I answered, "Yes." He then asked, "what pan did you use?" I stated that I had used my cast iron skillet. He said, "funny thing! Yesterday I cooked bacon in that pan and I let the dog lick out the bacon grease and then put it back up on the stove." Really, someone really thought it might be a good idea to let a dog clean a pan with her tongue and then put said pan on the stove top? Oh, husband I love thee...

potty training or "not pt"

So after Claire's 6 foot fall from the top bunk onto her back knocking the wind out of her tiny lungs and scaring me to death, splitting her head open and having it glued back together after a fall off the train table, and eating a poisonous flower, which required a call to poison control, I decided toilet training was in the cards...while Claire masterminded plans of her own. She has been telling me every time she poos and pees and makes contorted purplish facial expressions with each evacuation, which with my other two children was the determining factor in their potty training, so I decided the time was nigh. Claire, however is her own creature. Although she has "gone" on the potty, all outcomes have been by accident or with heavy bribing. This child has also discovered the "inform mommy that I need to go potty (to get attention) and for the excitement of the mad dash down the hall while I giggle all the way" power. I toilet train by allowing the children to be naked to discover by seeing and feeling where their excrement comes from and subsequently leaves from. So for our family, while running around, getting ready for our spring break trip, shopping, family dinner, etc. I've needed to be creative. Using a mixture of cloth diapers, underwear, and plastic pants, while we're out, I've come up with a fairly workable alternative to being naked all the time for the first 4 days to one week. Mix that with 15 to 20 minute forced (or suggested) potty breaks and wah...lah...you have a fairly uneventful potty training experience. It seemed to all make sense to me but not to my youngest dear, sweet babe.

Yesterday we needed to go to TJ's to get some snacks for our trip. I put some underwear on Claire with some plastic pants over the top. Upon arrival we immediately made a stop by the potty to make sure we (Claire and I) knew that there was an available potty. Well that was my first mistake. Claire instantly started the wheels turning, trying to figure out how she could use this new found knowledge to her benefit. As soon as I had her buckled into the shopping cart. She looked at me, smiled knowingly and said "BA, BA", which means "potty". I left my cart, Hailey and Anna, and my train of thought and rushed her to the potty. As soon as her little chubby buns hit that cold toilet seat she put her hands above her head, twisting her wrists frantically, which means all done. After pulling up her pants, all the while deflecting little fat fingers from grabbing the trash receptacle, toilet seat, and sanitary napkin depository with lightning speed and washing her hands, I whisked her back to the cart. Buckling her once again and trying to remember why I had left the cart next to the maple syrup, I started to get into my groove of shopping for vacation. I put two items in the cart walked a total of 10 feet when Claire, grinning angelically, looked up at me and said with lips poised, "BA, BA". I again frantically unbuckled her, rushed to the potty, and left my other two children standing wide eyed in the aisle wondering how their baby sister had just gotten away with something they could so easily see through. I again crouched down, pulled her pants to her ankles, and popped her onto the seat. This time I decided to distract her with some songs, finger plays, and body part identification. I said, "where are mommy's eyes"? Claire obliged my request by poking me in the eye. Then I said, "where is mommy's nose"? An inquisitive look furrowed her brow and the corner of her mouth twisted up mischievously. She drew her arm back and slapped me across the face. I was so shocked that I couldn't help but laugh (which I'm sure helped the cause). She then leaned forward and buried her head in my shoulder, sucking her thumb, as if to apologize. After repeating this scenario about 13 more times (minus the slap) throughout the next 20 minutes (and subsequently forgetting 1/2 of my shopping list) I checked out and loaded children and groceries into the car. As soon as all children were buckled in Claire said "BA, BA". I should have said "wait until we get home", but to a 19 month old? So I unloaded all the kids took them into the bathroom and put Claire on the potty. She dripped a few drops and then signed "all done". Hailey then informed me that she needed to use the facilities for a rather lengthy endeavor. I was perturbed, but obliged the request to turn and face the wall picking up and holding Claire. As I stood there staring at the wall and contemplating the bathroom paint color I felt warm all of a sudden and realized that as I held my youngest baby in my arms the warm feeling became wet (Claire's underwear/plastic pants combo didn't quite work). Since instead of paper towels TJ's has eco-friendly hand dryers I searched the cabinet for something to clean up the pee on the floor and off my Danskos. I made a mitt of toilet paper, mopped the floor, walked to the car with wet pants (Claire and I), and changed the baby. I drove home with wet pants, walked into the house with arms loaded with groceries and a pant-less baby, thinking of the moment I could change and be comfortable. The phone rang as I entered the house and it was my glorious husband calling for me to come and get him. As I loaded the car with the kids to go retrieve my husband (his bike had broken earlier that day and so he was stranded) the kids giggling and cheering to see daddy, I thought...I wouldn't trade this life....and after we picked Mark up Claire went wee, wee, wee all the way home.

Be careful where you leave your bag of puke ...or how to fling poop on your Mother in Law's ceiling

So first the poo...Our family decided to visit and stay a night with my husband's father and step mother on the way home from our New Year's festivities. Upon arrival we enjoyed some libation, and began to feel fairly at ease. My step-mother-in-law told me that she had printed some Can cans for me and they were on the counter. For a moment I was perplexed wondering how a "can can" could be on a counter when it was something you do as part of a dance routine. I then realized she was actually referring to a "ken ken", which is a math game similar to Soduko. Wanting to impart all of my dancing knowledge I informed her that she was mistaken and that this was actually a "can can", at which point I started kicking my legs high into the air while at the same time "singing" daah daah dut dut dut dut daah daah, dut, dut, dut, dut, daah daah...). As one of my elegant kicks reached it's pinnacle, a noticed a bit of debris shoot off the end of my perfectly pointed toe and adhere to the vaulted ceiling. Upon closer scrutiny, while squinting my eyes at a point above my head, I tried to identify the origin and type of matter that had been flung from my flawless foot. I then glanced down at the floor and noticed a small mound of brownish turds. I was just the tiniest bit, HORRIFIED. We assumed it to be cat feces, seeing that there were 3 of the little monsters in the house, but, alas, as it turned out, all of the incident fell upon our (my) shoulders. You see our youngest pint size cherub had crapped herself and most of the aforementioned doo-doo had shot out the side of her diaper, cascaded down her leg, and had been spread quite methodically it seems around the interior of my in-laws home. So if anyone should ever need someone to write an instruction manual on "How to adhere shit to your stepmother-in-laws ceiling", I'm the woman for the job.

The second incident goes a lil sumpin like dis: (1st equation) Road from Waldport to Philomath= Hailey car sick...we took the road from Waldport to Philomath on the way home from the coast because we were headed to a birthday party outside of Alsea. Just as we finished the last set of corners Hailey says, "mom I can't wait, I'm going to puke". Mark found the first place he could to pull over, while in the meantime I handed Hailey a paper bag to barf in (2nd equation) Paper bag+vomit=gigantic stinky mess. Hailey began spewing at the exact moment Mark pulled over and as she finished up we began to wonder what to do with our little package of stomach excrement. Having no plastic bags (later I realized we did) our thought processes became frenzied as the life of the bag was nearing it's end (this is one of those situations where marital bliss turns into marital screeching). Not wanting to litter but having no immediate plethora of options we left the bag near some mailboxes and in a rainbow of gravel fled feeling as though we had gotten away with some hugely evil crime. As we drove on, chuckling maniacally I realized I couldn't remember where my friends lived. As soon as we were within range of a tower and I had coverage, I called them and asked for directions. They told us the name of the road and as I spoke it out loud, Mark started making some very odd animal choking noises. As I hung up the phone, Mark informed me that much to our chagrin we would be returning to our very distasteful and smelly crime scene. So next time you invite us to a party beware...we may leave a very lovely housewarming gift under your mailbox.

meningitis....really?

So, long story short, massive pulsating jarring headache, neck pain, hospital, admitted, poke, vein no likey likey, poke some more, new I-V site, poke some more, feeling like a guinea pig, no communication or information, you can't see your kids, no nurse comes even though light is on for 45 minutes, you can go home, you can't, we don't know what you have, you can see your kids, you can't, I-V site swells, push nurse button, no nurse comes, red lines streaking up my arm from I-V site, still no nurse, poke some more, I refuse 3rd I-V site, they dangle "you can see your kids if you let us pump you full of just one more bag of antibiotic poison", I agree, Doctor sticks head in door, you can go home, no ibuprofen, never see doctor again, get dressed I-V still in my hand, step into hall, thrust I-V apparatus into a passing nurses face who says "OMG" and pushes me back into the room, nurse starts to take it out, I wince, she says "there's no needle it shouldn't hurt", unsaid "you big faking baby", in shock ask what do I do if headache returns?, nurse shrugs shoulders says "your a mystery", smirky forced smile, thrusts paper, I sign, walks us down, See ya unsaid "wouldn't wanna be ya". Anyway after all of this lovely treatment I went to my primary care physician on Monday. He said I had viral meningitis. It was the hospitalists final diagnosis upon discharge (boy that would have been nice to know). It may take up to 4 weeks to recover fully and I'm trying to take it easy. Mark has his resectomy tomorrow and so the kids, I think are on their own. Hailey's seven. She can forage for food for her and her two younger sibs right?

After yesterday, I was exhausted. Work, play date, pick H up from school, soccer practice, grocery shopping, picked up pictures, dropped item at friends' house, = couch, which I laid on for about an hour while I ignored the children. This lovely Men kicked my ass (Isn't that what they all do). I finally hauled my butt up to check on Claire and she was on top of the BUNK BED. She can't walk but can climb a ladder? huh? The kids were starved at this point and it was all I could do to cook a meal. Mark didn't get home until 7:00 and then the water works began. Poor guy. Works his butt off and comes home to a sobbing wife. Just what every husband wants to welcome them home after a hard day of work.
Today I took Anna and Claire to Jamba Juice for a fun outing and to get out of the house. Claire tolerated me feeding her from a spoon for about 10 bites and then squealed and in one motion ripped the straw out of the top of the plastic cup sending peach paradise careening through the air in an arch of all things healthy. The lovely concoction landed in my hair and glopped down onto my sweater. Boy was it fun!! Maybe peach paradise is as beneficial to your hair as they stuff down your throat advertise that it's good for your body.

More puking...Really?

So while Mark was still gone, more puking ensued. We drove to Bend to visit some very amazing friends. Hailey and Anna had horse back riding lessons and when I arrived I was told that a horse was available for me to ride also. I checked with Grandma Lois and Kristina to see if they would mind watching Claire. They were glad to oblige. As we began our trail ride, I looked over to make sure the baby was okay. I saw two women bending over the stroller and looking up in my direction every once in a while with what I perceived to be concerned looks. As we made our way back and were close enough for me to yell if everything was okay I was shocked to hear "Claire puked". As we dismounted I found my baby and snuggled her. After putting her in her seat and leaving the horse ranch, Claire began whimpering. I thought her puking might be a fluke because Hailey's puking was 72 hours passed, but alas it wasn't. About 5 minutes from our hostesses house Claire barfed up undigested scrambled eggs and sweet sickening smelling cantaloupe. Oh my favorite...another dismantlement of a car seat. Taking apart these car seats is on par with doing a colon polyp surgery without the knowledge of a polyp or a colon. Claire then didn't sleep well until we returned home 4 days later. I greeted Mark with all the love a sleep deprived, puke exhausted, tired of kids in general mom could muster. I felt like punching him right in the face but then my rage faded to uncontrollable sobbing. He looked so bewildered as to why I was mad at him and sometimes to this day still shakes his head in disbelief at my adamant refusal to allow anymore 10 day trips...he should read my blog...Right?

watch out for those babies...

So I once heard that if you have a child under two, you are on suicide watch whenever they are awake. I thought this was a strange comment until I started to pay attention to what Claire did and how often I "saved her" from herself. This morning Claire was playing in my room with the curtains. Anna came in and said,"no, Claire". Now this baby is my tantrum kid and does not like hearing the word "no" directed at her. She flung herself on the floor, connecting with a sickening thwack, her head with the nightstand. Instantly she had a purple/blue/greenish egg on her forehead and started screaming. I comforted her and shortly after placed her in the high chair for breakfast. Her sister was feeding her blueberries and decided it might be fun to slip her an over sized grape, about 4 times bigger than the norm. It instantly lodged in her throat and I had to do the finger sweep. 30 minutes later, I was taking a shower with the baby in her bath chair. I closed my eyes to rinse my hair and heard her coughing and choking. I instantly looked down at the baby who was pouring the entire contents of the pitcher we use to rinse the kids' hair, on her face, trying to drink it. My eyes began to burn from the soap running into my eyes, which I tried to ignore to save my child. My idea of heaven?...those 5 instantly quiet seconds you get when you shut the door after buckling the kids in and you can no longer hear their bickering, whining, or crying, before getting in yourself. Ahhh heaven.

more "minus mark" mayhem

Night number 2 at grandma's went a little like this. Uncle Jordan drops girls off (Hailey and Skyla) hungry, tired, slightly sunburned, and a little grumpy. I fix them zucchini fritters while asking Uncle Jim to watch Claire, which even with the best intentions is about as helpful as asking Claire to prepare a trifle for dessert. Although Uncle can "watch" her, he can't pick her up. So he can "watch" her pull the bird cage on her head or crawl out the door into traffic, but it really is not very useful. After dinner the girls are tired so I put Claire into her crib and once she's asleep put Hailey and Skyla in Claire's room in sleeping bags on the floor. Since Skyla has no sleeping bag, she has to use Anna's and Anna sleeps with Grandma. At 6 am the fun begins. Skyla and Hailey wake up the baby and since she didn't get enough sleep is a grouchy bear. As I'm feeding her, I hear whimpering and when I look up Anna is sidling toward me with tears. I asked what was wrong and she said she accidentally peed in grandma's bed (Sweet, wonderful). After some shopping, helping clean up, packing kids up, I finally leave. I drive to Corvallis to feed the dog, get more supplies, and then drive to Grandma Bonnie's. Upon getting there and waking up the kids to unload them, I realize Anna has peed in her carseat. After cleaning her up and unloading diapers, clothes, hats, sunblock, etc. I have to dismantle her carseat and wash everything. The next day after a leisurely walk to the local park and some playing in the water, Hailey began to complain of a headache. She lay down on the couch to rest. I went in to check on her just in time to hear her puke all over Grandma Bonnie's couch. She puked once more in the car on the way home (am I having fun yet?) and fell asleep on the couch at home. I put her in bed with me and at 2am I heard Anna crying, went in to check on her and she had peed the bed. I changed the bed put her on Hailey's bed and went back to bed. The next morning at 6 am Hailey started puking again. At about 9am my parents stopped by to borrow the canoe and all lines of Hell intersected for about 15 minutes in my house. As I dug through our "O so organized storage" I heard Hailey whimpering on the couch. She asked me to snuggle with her but the baby who was woken up early was crying in her crib. At that very moment Anna started screaming Mama I'm done wipe me. I went in to get Claire and her diaper was also poopy. Poop and puke, oh my favorite. Later we went to the doc who said Hailey had a virus (I love hearing that, I know it's not their fault and their the experts here, but 98.9% of the time whatever is ailing the kids is a virus) We raced home so I could get ready for a job interview, left Papa Bill with some instructions, put the kids down for a nap, and left. I was not as shining (well maybe with sweat) as usual and when I returned home Hailey had woken up from her nap and was 100% better. Now as long as no one else pukes, pees the bed or tries to injure themselves I will be very happy...and boy is Mark gonna get an earful when he gets home. I bet he'll wish he would have been gone for 20 days instead of 10 when he sees what's in store for him.

whoa is me...

So my husband Mark, thought it would be a great idea to go backpacking for 10 days and leave me at home with three small children. Although I wasn't too thrilled with this prospect I thought it will be nice for him to get away after all he does for us and since he didn't go last year because of my pregnancy and restaurant I felt I had to support him in this endeavor. That was until he left...
Thursday he drove to his dad's house and I drove to Eugene to stay with my grandma and great uncle for 2 nights. I love spending time with them so I didn't think twice. Well the first night started out wonderfully...at least until 2 am. Uncharacteristically, Claire decided to wake up and just be awake for 2 hours. She has never been awake in the middle of the night for more than about 20 minutes even as a newborn so you can imagine my surprise and dismay. I knelt down next to her playpen and rubbed her back. As I rubbed her back I leaned my head on the edge of the crib and tried to get as comfortable as possible on an inch wide, metal pillow. The baby lay down and after about 5 minutes, hearing that her breathing was very regular, I sat back on my heels trying to decide if I should sneak out of the room or lay down on the floor. At this moment the baby popped up and began to look around. I got back up on my knees, laid her back down, and stroked her back once again. After I was sure she was asleep I stopped rubbing her back and looked down at her. She appeared to be asleep in every way. Eyes closed, steady rythmic breathing, twitching momentarily. The second I sat back on my heels up popped her head. We continued this lovely middle of the night tango until I heard my grandma's 42 clocks begin chiming (I'm not kidding, I think actually we've counted 60 clocks, but only 42 of them chime, which you can imagine can be so conducive while trying to get a baby to sleep). I heard 4 chimes and I guess 4 am is Claire's limit and she fell almost instantly asleep. Instead of risking waking her up I decided to lay down on the carpet and sleep there. It wasn't as bad as I imagined...70's shag carpet is surprisingly comfortable...