Birthday and snowy adventure

Started last week with no voice. It was great teaching the kids to whisper, so that I could speak. Worked only when I didn't really need it to work and when I needed to put on the serious Cara voice I'd clap my hands and give them the MOM look. If I could have I would have stomped my feet like a child with a fit if I thought I could get away with it.

Anyway, to the point. Birthday weekend was a success. First Juan took me to dinner the night before my BDay to Chez Panisse. I think this restaurant has been hyped up so much that it actually fell below our expectations. The food was good, but it didn't go beyond that. Considering the price and the wait to get reservations fulfilled we came away feeling like we could have created something better at home. I know that Alice Waters is the name behind comfort food, and that was what we experienced, it's just that we did expect something more. The only course that we came away truly enjoying was the squid and lemon dressed salad. Everything else for a prix fixe menu was so heavy (got the comfort aspect and then some). We really wanted to like it, but the heaviness bogged us down. We did come away with a new addition to Juan's apple pie (far better than the one we had there). They had creme fraiche whipped with a touch of sugar just to the side of the pie. We'll have to recreate this. To speak more positively the service was excellent and we loved the architecture. Juan is certain it's taken from a Frank Llyod Wright style all the way down to the lighting fixtures.

Friday morning (no hangovers for this gal-given my throat earlier in the week I stuck with one drink - a fantastic Pear Sparkling Wine) was spent getting ready to head to the mountains. With Milan in school Tate and I picked up the rental skis (the snowboard/boots are part of Milan's lesson at the resort). The last time (and our kids first time) we headed to the snow was two years ago. This year we came away with big and wonderful memories for all.

First this was Tate's first real experience with the snow (he has no memory before - I mean he wasn't even walking last time we went). He was on his skis and looking like quite the skier. We used the little hill with the conveyer belt at first. Juan was great teaching him and I went up once with Tate; at the top I see Tate slide off with his little skis and I automatically think I can do the same (forgetting I have boots on and getting my toes clipped at the end - yeah, I'm the one that made the conveyer belt stop okay). I later removed my boot to ascertain that my toes were still there.

Both days I was on nap duty. The first day Tate and I never even made it to the resort. We stayed at the sled run until 11:30 then I had to practically carry him the 1/2 mile back to the lodge. I was ready for a nap, too that day. The second day we were at the resort, so I packed Tate in the car to drive to the lodge, but he fell asleep before we made it out of the parking area. I ended up going to the lodge anyway, parking in front and racing in to grab my Kindle from the room. Then we drove back to the resort (glad we paid the $20 to park in the front lot for the day, because I just went right back there and sat in the parked car reading).

It was sunshine skiing, because with the sun out it was too warm really to even wear our winter jackets. Milan had a day of skiing and then a day of snowboarding. He came away declaring "I'm only going to snowboard from now on". I didn't really get to see him in his classs. At first they just hang out on the little hill talking and doing little stature practice then they go to the hill with the conveyer belt. After Tate's nap we caught up with Juan and he took Tate on the lift.

I went to get Milan from his snowboard class and we waited at the bottom of the slope to see Juan and Tate coming down. The second time Tate went up was because big brother was there to join them. All my boys head out on the hill while I wait down below camera ready. Milan comes down first. I'm so amazed at his skills that I completely forget to catch it on camera and just observe him in awe. He comes sidling up in front of me perfectly. No pics of him on the move, but I've got him in my head forever.

The Return of the Self

When my first son was born, I chose not to return to work. Holding him in my arms and realizing he was out in the world and that the protection of my body, the safety within the womb was no longer there, I felt this great need to keep him out of harm by being his protector. I let him learn some things on his own, walking leads to a few falls, while ensuring hands are held when walking near the street. Never having been around children before I really wasn't sure that the maternal instinct would kick in that strong, but it did. It took years before anyone other than my husband's and my family could watch him. Basically, I wanted him to be able to tell me if the outside sitter was caring for him properly. Perhaps I shouldn't have watched "The Hand that Rocked the Cradle" while being in the last stage of pregnancy.

Anyway, two children later. My eldest is seven, the youngest coming up on three years. Now we try to have a sitter once a month if not more. We've even been away overnight for several nights; mother-in-law was in town, and I wouldn't expect a non family member to stay at our home and care for my children for days unless there was an emergency.

I feel most proud of who my eldest has and is becoming. He's at an age where you can really see what he's like and who he may be. My younger son; yes, two full energy boys (I'm a master chaser now and my husband has warned me that an ER visit could be a possibility not that I'd be prepared for that mentally and therefore won't think on that) comes into this family with all the more love surrounding him. Before he was born, we talked about him often with our 1st son and how wonderful it'll be to have a brother (we learned the 2nd's sex, not the 1st's - easier for transitioning him to embracing his brother). The day he was born, we had a gift that baby brother gave to big brother - big brother still talks about that.

The same feelings of protection came over me for the second child, but also more of a sense of ease and allowance for more. Their personalities merge and shift away and I see they share traits, but that they are their own persons.

Me, I'm only just getting back after being on hiatus for the last seven years. I've put much love and effort into raising my boys and will continue to do so, but I'm also thinking that I need to do what popular self helpers often state, shamelessly I have never actually read a self help book, and that is to "care for oneself".

I'm going to start that now. By the way, the bra shopping is under way! Woo-hoo!

The kids have been in bed for over two hours now and I was just going to wash up and get myself into bed. I walk into the bathroom and I catch a look in the mirror. I look like a mom tonight. So glad Juan is not here to see me in this most unattractive state. Not that moms look unattractive, but we moms know the MOM look after being out and about with the kids all day, having very little ME time. I mean, we can't count a bathroom break, because they're not private moments with little ones popping in regularly to see where we went off to and what we're doing. The look I had was hair falling out of a not tight bun, last of the days make-up, dribbles of ice cream (oh yes I did) on the front of my shirt and a nursing bra - which my seven year old asked me today when he saw the latch peeking out of the edge of my shirt "What's this?" I bowed my head in totally defeat. Yes, I've become that. And no I'm not still breast-feeding my almost three year old, not that I have a problem with others doing that. He was just ready when he was ready and he being my second I was ready, too.

So, while the kids were entertained this evening watching Fetch before bed I made a list of things to do and on that list were:

1. buy new lingerie (this word by the way, makes me feel like I've written it wrong and I keep looking it up, but no that is the correct spelling...),

2. get hair appointment,

3. do nails

And I should add look at yourself in the mirror regularly.

I was hoping to get to bed early and defy the ugly morning blah look, but that doesn't look to be happening either.

So Friday is here soon enough and with a three day weekend and hopefully a husband (sales conference ends tomorrow), perhaps I'll have a chance to escape for a bit and find myself *wink-wink*. In that time it'd be nice to have a date night with said husband.

4. book sitter!

The joke of the stay at home parent/writer: 

You've set the children up with a television show to occupy them for say at least 10 minutes, but not two have passed and the eldest comes over to say that younger brother has since aborted the show by fiddling with the buttons on the side of the television, of which I've no clue how to work, so my correcting of this problem is to turn off the television and restart it.  Meanwhile spousal other chuckles in the other room as they are seeing to their email and FB.  Show back up and running.  One minute passes.  Eldest child comes back. Same problem.  Little one goes into a time out, which I must clock and then return to him to let him know he's out of the time out.  Two more minutes eldest comes back to report same issues.  NO MORE TELEVISION!  I've send them to their room to play "nicely".  Half a minute later eldest whines "Mama, I'm thirsty..."

"Well, what an be done to fix that?" I ask.

"Get a drink" he demurs.

"Great idea and fix your brother one." I say

Here though I feel the need to assist to ensure the kitchen remains somewhat intact after.  Back to their room.  Youngest soon brings out his finished sippy cup and tries to remove me from my chair in order to get him more.  I send him on his way "back to play"...  Another minute.  Eldest comes out with stuffed bear and says "I've made a laundry pile".  I can only imagine the destruction which is occurring.  "Very nice..." and I swivel back to some more writing time.  On the way I hear him offer to my husband a chance to see the pile, too.  "I'll be in later" he says.  Two minutes pass.  Eldest comes out "want to see my set up..."

"I'll be in in a little bit", I delay.

Half a minute.  Youngest comes out whining.  "Go help your brother" I suggest.  Five seconds later.  "Mama, I'm lucky" as my eldest flashes his Bakugan card.

"I see" I say in a businesslike fashion.

The bedroom door is closed behind him and interactive play sounds from within.   Ahhhh.  Do I actually have time to process a thought of my own?  Okay, here we go.  I'm thinking..................  Sunday, blue skies, a chance for anything.

Soothing, rippling skies of blue with white etchings and a hum.  Is it too quiet now?  Impossible!  This is the moment I have been craving.  There's a reminder to schedule a doctor's appointment for one of the kids glaring at me from a post-it note stuck to my computer.  Really?  Do I need to contemplate that now?  The sun is heating my hair.  The warmth almost defrosting this brain whose sole use, it would seem for the past six years has been to care for children.  Feeding, playing, loving my children.  Eldest passes me by and returns.

"Mama, I'm making a play station."  And back to the room he heads.  Is this a warning to me of what wild messy imaginations are brewing back there?  I've promised myself this time and I shall not be removed from the task at hand.  Youngest comes over "aaahhhh  oooouuuhhh" and back he goes closing the door behind.  We're making our point clear.  Eldest passes me, youngest closes bedroom door after older brother has left only to find that he now can't open it again.  Scream.

"M, can you open the door for T?" I ask.

A yell out "okay..."  He's gone around the back way to the secondary door.  Out he comes from the door asking me for tape.  The supply has been rendered no more after Christmas, but he notes that there is a stray one left behind on the tape dispenser itself.

"It's all yours!" I offer.

Off he goes again.  I have to say the suspense as to what is going on in there is building, but I'm not going to be drawn away from the task at hand - to remind the mind of writing...

Page two.  NO WAY!  Not that anything I've written is remotely interesting thus far, but the fact that my fingers are connecting with the keyboard and words are ensuing is reward in and of itself.  I shall be bragging to my spouse about my amazing efforts after this.   Who's this?   A hug and "I love you" from my eldest.  OMG they're pulling out all the stops.  Here comes youngest.  Now, if he does the same I'm done here for sure.  He's wandering with a connected phone (why was that in their bedroom?).  

"Mama, T did this." Eldest states from beyond.  "T is hanging, mama." - Okay, just don't let him hang himself I think to myself and I continue without pause and he walks back to his room.   Their not used to my having time to myself and their having to entertain themselves.  How good this will be for all of us actually.  Attachment parenting has it's limits.  Not that I followed any rules, I just did what felt right by them and me and now I'm feeling like we could use the independent time for each of us to learn something from it.  They're sneaking about the house now heading for the kitchen.  They don't know how to work the heavy appliances, so I'm doubtful much dread will ensue.  Youngest is peeling me literally from the computer and my seat.

"Go help your brother draw" and I send him to the white board that I set up for them to be creative while I'm trying to be creative.  I'm hoping the youngest won't actually draw on the wall, but I've bought Magic Erasures, so let him go to town...  Okay, the sun is burning me now.  I should be sapping up the fabulous heat on this cool day, but one can't help to think of skin disease when the heat of the sun starts to make you feel like you've been shut up inside an oven.  I'll attend to the blinds momentarily - another distraction.

"T!" a sharp rebuttal for something the youngest has done to big brother.

"Mama, mama, mama..." the wee one sings.

It's like he's making fun of his older brother.  As long as they're together I don't feel the need to oversee what the littlest one might be getting into.

I pause to delve my mind for some actual material, but with patterings of little feet and hands nearby it's nearly impossible to get anything of real use out of my brain and the screech ensues and I hear the eldest "Mama, did you put that boot on T?"  Ah, so the littlest is trying to put on his own boots.  A milestone in the making.  This may require more screams, but I'll let them work it out as the wee one will spout his wills without any true needs.  Okay, my temperature is likely reaching the 100 degree mark and my head is really hot.  There's a lot of shifting of things behind me, but I'm determined not to be set off track.  In my mind being able to set myself to task is accomplishment of it's own at this point in time. 

"Mama, look at my heart," says my oldest.  Ah, it's too sweet!  He's drawing hearts on the white board.   Littlest sounds like he's going through the paper recycling and spreading it all over the floor.  Don't look!  Don't look!  You'll be cleaning it up soon enough, but to look will distract you for good.

"Aw, mama, look..." says eldest referencing (I'm certain) the mess that the youngest has created.  Yes, it takes but a second to make a mess.  I shall overcome this...  Longer to clean, but worth it in my mind for a little creative mess here.  The sun is moving and the persistent heat is letting up from the back of my head a bit.

"Mama, why don't you breastfeed T with this...?" my eldest asks.

Ah, great.  I'm getting breastfeeding advice from a six year old.  As he passes me the breast pump which I'd set aside long ago in the hopes to find it a new home.  Please... please... put them away.  Eldest says "mama, I've bottled my voice" and places the breast pump and bottle on my desk.  Okay, the comedic intervals are so worth it!  Yet, distracting and now I can't focus at all on the task at hand other than to keep my hands planted on the keyboard.  I tell myself if I remove them then I'm destined to never write again.  Damn, I have to look.  did they lose the pieces to the breast pump?  Hard to say, but I see the destruction.  Shoes strewn everywhere, missing sippy cups from weeks ago suddenly reveal themselves.  Ah, they were under there.  Okay, there's a silver lining now.  Eldest asks again for a show on the television.  They've been doing so well...  Okay, I guess I'll call it now.   I don't want them to feel like they're being punished after allowing me "some" creative time to myself...  Eldest is with daddy and they're discussing showers that need to be taken.  I walk away before he sees me and tries to entice me into television nothingness for him.  This is really good for us all...

I know that I've got little more than crap here, but I feel vindicated by having absorbed myself into what feels like creative time by just typing and feeling and not being distracted.  Okay, there clearly are lies in that statement, but the truth exists, too.

The boys are getting involved in a board game in the dining room.  T says "poopoo", I hear daddy say "go tell mama".  I wait...  T comes in the room.   I'm off to be a mom...