Still.. Yet... Living.

I have been inexcusably absent of late. I realize. I will explain later, but mostly it involves lots of running around, doing chores, preparing to do our taxes, and even - GASP! - a bit of social interaction not centered around my children. I know! It's like living in some sort of parallel universe, one where I actually feel like a regular person sometimes!

So, then, lacking in any wisdom of my own to share today beyond "don't eat yellow snow" (which is not as useful as you might think, since we have had 2 days of rain and a sadly obvious lack of snow...) I submit instead....

The Zen Parenting Wisdom of Oh The Joys. She rather brilliantly does something that I think many parents struggle to do -- which is to effectively apply acquired life wisdom to the raising of children. Because keeping our cool, actively choosing how to interact and respond to our children: these are things that require conscious choice on our part as parents.

My sister and I had a conversation recently wherein I finally managed to articulate my major Zen Life Philosophy. It's been brewing for a long time, but I was able to put it into words for the first time.

My ultimate goal is to Live Life On Purpose. The most important thing I DON'T want to do is to go with the flow, take the path of least resistance, or live my life according to habit or my emotional responses. Everything in our lives that we are dissatisfied with can only be changed by active decision on our part. It's not going to magically happen -- whether "it" is raising our children to be the best people they can be, achieving the personal or professional success we desire, or even just getting ahead of the housework or getting physically healthier.

My goal for this year is to attack these things one at a time, prioritize which are the most important to me, and actively improve each one. I think that OTJ has hit the nail on the head -- finding the Zen in the Parenting Zoo requires making a decision to bring as much of the Zen to the table as we possibly can.

So how about delurking and weighing in? What are your tricks for keeping your cool and keeping Zen in raising your kids?

Personally? I find that when I'm stressed to my limit, making time for a bubble bath with a hot cup of chamomile tea after the house is quiet can do wonders for my mental state. Also, getting out in the sunshine and letting the kids run around crazy (until I am inevitably lured into joining them and flying around in the fresh air like a five-year-old, myself) helps me fall in love with my rugrats all over again.

Alive and Kicking.. and Maybe Biting.

I swear I'm still here. Just very, very tired and attempting to keep up with the pace that these men in my life are setting for me. It's not easy.

Especially when two of them are running circles around me most of the day, attempting either to strangle each other or pile on the dog.

Fear not, however, for I shall return. Soon. With more brilliant and fascinating parenting tales. Like how Jack is learning to wipe his own behind after making magic in the potty.

And yes - I really did marry a man who refers to that particular activity as "Making Magic". And I still consent to sleep with him on occasion. Even though he is passing this mystifying colloquialism on to our children.

But he also washes dishes, so really... like so many things in life... it's a trade-off.

Like how you, dear internets, wait to see what else I will come up with or what catastrophe will yet strike our little family. It's like watching a train wreck, isn't it? You want to look away, but you're captivated against your will.

Also probably a fair description of what is must be like to be married to me... the woman who shares your personal scatalogical vernacular with the world.

In truth? I'm fairly cartain that, beyond the oft-mentioned impressive rack, he only puts up with me because I will play video games with him and because we both like our steaks a bit bloody in the center.

I'm a catch, y'all.

My Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The Yard

Now that I'm married, babied, and hedging on 30, the only (mostly) sane man who would believe I'm a 10 is dependent on me for hot meals and marital favors. Apparently, though, my breasts have taken on a spectacular life of their own. (for photographic evidence, check out my sister's blog here for a photo of us at my other sister's wedding. Fifth photo down, that's me in the red. And yes, I would be the younger sister - by 10 years - even though you would never guess that from the photo.)

So this morning, in the middle of the business meeting for our mother's club, Jack walked up to me and stared thoughtfully at my chest for a moment.

"Mommy? Your boobies look like buns."

(*pause*)

"Do they, then. What sort of buns? Bread buns? Butt buns?"

"BREAD buns!" he giggled. "Why do they look like that?"

"I dunno...."

"I know! Because they're squished next to each other!"

Yup. Still got it.

The Tiny Fist of Iron

Jack's bedtime routine has evolved recently, and he now demands that his evening ends with a story followed by the songs "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and "Silent Night" (which he refers to as "the commercial song", thanks to a Christmas ad from pampers that showed sleeping babies while a woman's voice sang the carol).

Silent Night is my song, and apparently I am the only one qualified to sing it to him properly.

Itsy Spider, on the other hand, is subject to the whims of a moody four-year-old exploring the rules of command and control. I am expected - nay, commanded - to perform the hand motions, but whether or not I sing along depends on the particular evening.

Tonight, as Jack lay snuggled next to me in his bed, I put my hands into the Official Spider Position and sang the opening bars of the ditty.

"NO, Mom! You're not allowed to sing except on Mondays...."

(pause)

"Mom? What day is it today?"

"It's Monday."

"Oh. I said you're only allowed to sing Itsy Spider on Fridays. You just do the hands part. And then you can sing the commercial song."

"Uh... Huh. Okay."

He's lucky he's cute, y'all. That's all I'm saying.

Parental Advisory: Contains Irrational Levels of Cheer

My voice may be cracking like a pubescent teenager (thanks to The Cold That Will Not Die), but I soldiered on and gamely attempted to sing Jack's bedtime song. Sure enough, it was as painful to hear as it was to sing. Like listening to a CD after it's been put through a garbage disposal.

Finally, Jack tilted his head to the side, looked at my quizically, and said:

"Mommy? How did your voice get scratched?"

I so love the way his little mind works. Four-year-olds are awesome.

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Days passed, and my voice is now returning to my normal timbre. (If "normal" translates to "roughly the tone and pitch of a sixteen-year-old girl").

My body is still in open revolt - and it is, indeed, revolting at present. I really need to find a home for the rest of the Christmas fudge before the weight I lost creeps back up on me... in the form of dimpled, fudgy thighs. Despite this, though, the last week has been something of a honeymoon period. I find myself enjoying activities I usually dread: doing laundry, washing dishes, consciously breathing before 8am.

I think that my week away was some sort of watershed event -- though, for the life of me, I can't figure out exactly what epiphany I had. Maybe it was being around my family without being paralytically self-conscious for the first time in a decade or more. Maybe it was the reminder of some of the dysfunctional relationships that rampage through my kin. Maybe it was just the opportunity for breathing room and the chance to gain a little perspective.

Whatever the cause may be, this unexpected wave of Joie De Vivre is coming in past the swells and heading for the breakers. Tonight I actually took down the exterior Christmas decorations - and it's not even February, y'all! I may have to stop myself before I put an end to world hunger or single-handedly resolve conflict in the Middle East. Or clean out our basement storage. (That last one, by the way? Easily the most difficult. I would post photographic proof, but then you would all be privy to my dark, dark shame, and then I'd have to avoid your calls and screen all my evites to make sure we don't accidentally attend the same party because ...awkward!!!)

But suffice it to say I am doing my best to accomplish as much as I can before whatever Happy Hoodoo this is wears off and I'm back to glaring menacingly at the breakfast dishes and cursing the heavens when Toby manages to remove his diaper and use his crib as a urinal. At least for now, though, it really is All Good.

Suburban Serenity.

I woke briefly this morning as T climbed into the shower. Snuggled on either side of me were the boys. Two warm little bodies, quiet and still, wrapped around me from both sides. It lasted about a minute and a half before the maniacs arose and the day began.

Fed the dog our leftover scrambled eggs. Because I was feeling generous.

Decided to leave the Christmas tree up... just one more day. It cheers up the living room. I need to hang more pictures in there or something.

No appointments, commitments, or catastrophes to handle today. Just have to get Jack to preschool, grab a few things at the grocery store, and get Toby home for a nap while I settle in to catch up on the new (unscripted!) episodes of The Daily Show and Colbert Report on the TiVO and fold a little laundry.

Every day should begin this way.

Geeks R Us.

Each of the boys is in front of a separate television.

Toby is in the play room playing Lego Star Wars on the GameCube.

Jack is in the family room playing Lego Star Wars: The Original Trilogy on the new xBox 360.

If anyone requires a handbook on The Care and Feeding of Small Nerds? We've got you covered. Just ask T. He is currently hunched over the stove making Hamburger Helper Double Cheeseburger Macaroni (with ground turkey, 'natch) for dinner.

And now he's blaming me for the sad culinary state of our household.

In my defense? I blame him. After all, how am I supposed to do things like.. grocery shop.... and find recipes... when I'm in it up to my eyeballs in Puzzle Quest?

And then it went KA-BOOM!

Christmas happened, and there was much gift-giving and shameless materialism and even a few expressions of sincere affection at our house.

Big Daddy T got his xbox 360 and immediately claimed it as his saucy mistress. Which is only a little awkward, since I end up chatting with his friend Chris over the headsets as often as he does while we play Halo 3. Also while I blast the effing aych-ee-double-hockey-sticks out of the alien scum. Because I'm a lady.

I didn't really ask for anything this year except the Amy Winehouse album, which T neglected to get because (as he pointed out) I can just as easily get it off of iTunes. Instead, he got me something totally unexpected and completely awesome. In lieu of a photo of the actual item (which I somehow neglected to photograph) I will share this radical shot of the scrumptious packaging...


Yes, a Coach purse. My husband is attempting to upgrade me from the ground level up, and it seems that my $10 canvas mommy bag from Walmart was as good a place as any to start. So, now I carry my fabulous (still big enough to hold a diaper and small spare wipes) purse with me everywhere I go, and try not to think about the fact that it cost as much as I would spend on clothes in a year. Okay, so for a year that number may be pitifully low. Which, incidentally, is the other part of my directive: Buy Nice Clothes. Which I will totally start working on... as soon as I lose the last 15 pounds.

The boys got too many toys to enumerate, sadly. The highlight, I think, was the kitchen set I got from JC Penney for $35. Of course, at that price, I knew there would be a catch. I just didn't know there would be 175 or so of them. You see, the kitchen came totally unassembled. I wish I had taken photos to share, but I was apparently so stricken at the realization that every. single. piece. was unconnected, I sorta blacked out for a few hours and somehow got it put together just before dinner.

Of course, after their recent introduction to Toy Story, they had to get matching Buzz Lightyear action figures.


And then their heads exploded.

After Christmas, of course, I headed to parts west for my sister's New Years Eve wedding in Salt Lake City. I have all sorts of anecdotes I am sure I could share - and still yet may - but for the moment, let's just stick to the highlights of the trip.

- The Kaboom. In the first 48 hours that I was gone, T and the boys all came down with fever and chest cough. The cat got trapped in our bedroom overnight with T and peed on our bed. The boys got into the Christmas stockings and ate, between them, an entire package of chewing gum. The boys also left the stockings laying out which brings us to the part where the dog ate 3 entire Tobleronne bars. The dog, by the way, is fine. I, on the other hand, and still somewhat grief-stricken at the loss of the chocolate. But I'll be okay. Time heals all wounds, and all that. Eventually.

- Saw "I Am Legend" with my sister Shannon and her teenage son. Their family is so fan-freaking-tastic I hardly know where to begin. Theirs is one of the few places I can walk into and feel immediately at home. We had good conversation and some lively debate, and even added a little icing to an already sweet relationship. Also, she makes me brave in my style choices and reminds me that, in all ways, just being myself is quite good enough. Even though her 11-year-old daughter can play circles around me on the violin. Hey, at least my teenage nephew (who has the most wickedly awesome hair, by the way) was willing to sit with us at the movie. So at least I haven't reached "sit three rows back and pretend not to know the adult" status. Yet, anyway.

- Got to have Sushi with Dr. Allie and another old acquaintance. The sushi was awesome, the Saki was hot, and the chance to catch up and let our hair down was priceless.

- Sat next to my last surviving Grandma at the wedding. She had one of her more lucid moments, and we had a nice chat. And she didn't comment on the pierced nose or the wild hair, just laughed at my jokes and let me put my arm around her during the ceremony and generally acted grandmotherly.

- At our wedding five years ago T and I gave the DJ explicit instructions about the type of music to play for the first few hours of the reception. With T's dad being retired military and currently in government, there were a fair few military and government-dignitary-types present. My sister, of course, did a little flirting and convinced the DJ to play Nelly's "It's getting hot in here (so take off all your clothes)" in the first 10 minutes.

It took five years, but I finally served up the payback. I had a little chat with the DJ, agreed to take any and all blame, and finally served my sis a dose of her own medicine. Being Utah, of course, she got the benefit of the DJ dubbing out the more offensive parts of the song (not so at our wedding, for the record) but still. Payback was sweet, baby.

- Watched fireworks at eye level on the 23rd floor of the Wells Fargo building in Salt Lake City at midnight. It was a weird moment - no T to kiss or snuggle up to. Just me, standing in a room of family and strangers, a little island unto myself. I was exhausted, oddly serene, and fiercely homesick. I think maybe it took being so far away from my home and our own little family to realize how much those things are the center of my life. Extended family is lovely, and it's nice to catch up once in a while, but if I had to make a choice... I'd choose T and the boys over anyone or anywhere else in the world every time.

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All in all, more has happened in the last few weeks than I can properly record. I'm ready to move on into 2008. I'm sure I'll probably look back here and there, and toss in a thing or two I forgot, but for the most part... I have already moved on. I'm ready for something good - no - GREAT to happen. I'm ready for a new year.

As soon as I get over this gnarly chest cold, that is.