{Rubber-Sol: Why, hello there!}

Big Girl Bed

Oh it's September already?! Whoa Nelly.  The kids and I have had 12 whole weeks of summer fun, and I think we're all ready for school to resume!  The other day, we took Henry to his kinder orientation at his new school, and he is beside himself with excitement.  And we are equally excited to know that he has the teacher we requested (Alison's old teacher!).  Alison is eager for 2nd grade, and Kate is growing up way too fast.  Every day she has a new word or saying, and she's definitely going through her language "explosion!" For sure.

Oh, and we bought her a big girl bed (after several rounds of her climbing out and about).   She's super proud to have her own bed, and if you're a mama or papa of a little one, you know that graduating to a big kid bed is exciting stuff.  And I'm sure you also know that once the confines of a crib are gone, the trick is to get the child to actually stay in the bed.   Well, Kate?  She's the only one of our kidlets who has decided that staying in bed is A-OK.  So  a big WHEW on that one!  Here's a peek at her pretending to sleep (what a ham).

Summer has been hopping busy for the shop, and it's felt like Christmas around here. I've also been doing a lot of investigation, and hopefully soon I'll have some new goodies in store for you. And you, and you, and you!

Let's see what else?  Um, not much!  Just enjoying the last bits of summer before heading back to the routines and rhythms of fall.   Hope you enjoy your last days too.

Goodnight Daddy

As a little girl, I always enjoyed the evenings, because my dad and I had a goodnight ritual.  Every night after brushing my teeth, my dad would come to my room to tuck me in.  I’d climb into my captain’s loft-style bed, and my dad would tuck the sheets under me tightly, wrapping me up like a burrito.  Most of the time I’d giggle and squirm in attempts to wiggle myself loose, and my dad, of course, would have to repeat the tucking.  He’d always feign annoyance, but I always knew that he, too, was grateful for these few extra seconds of time together.

But the most memorable part of our goodnight ritual was when he’d lift my head, and fan my long hair out upon my pillow.  The coolness of the pillow against the warmth of my skin was always such comforting surprise.  It was my dad’s trademark touch, like icing on a cake or the cherry on top.

Shortly thereafter, he’d kiss me on the forehead, and turn off the light.  From my bedroom, he’d make his way to the den, a room adjacent to mine.  Most of the time, the light from the den would shine into the hallway, and the shadows and noise would keep me entertained on the evenings when I wasn’t quite ready to fall asleep.  I found much comfort in hearing the low strumming of my dad’s guitar or the sounds of Johnny Carson emanating from the t.v. 

This evening ritual stopped sometime before middle school, I’m sure.  By that time I’m certain I was a self-obsessed teenager who, like most kids, was trying to shed herself of her parents.  These years were spent gabbing on the phone with friends, and the distance between my parents and I widened.  Wasn’t that true for most teenagers?  On most nights quick hugs and obligatory kisses were given before retiring for the night.

But still.  No matter how old I got, I always enjoyed listening to my dad’s music spilling into my room at night.  His music was like an evening serenade, smooth and comforting.  Years passed.  College life, dorm life, and finally married life.  And still yet.  Still when the evenings rolled around, I found myself yearning for my dad’s evening serenade.  And oftentimes I longed for our old evening ritual.

One week ago I watched as my dad slipped away.  I held his hand while he passed, and for one last time, we relived our evening ritual.  In his last moments, I tucked the pillow softly under his head, smoothed his hair down, and kissed him on the forehead before he fell into his final slumber. 

My Mother, My Strength

Photo Titled:  Leaving Hawai'i for L.A., 1967

Motherhood doesn't come with any guide books to help us navigate the sometimes choppy waters of raising children, and yet there was never a moment when I felt that my own mother was lost at sea.  She tackled motherhood with great gusto, and despite several college degrees, she chose to stay home to raise my brother and me.  For many, many years, we had the luxury of coming home to homebaked snacks, homemade meals, books at bedtime, and hugs at night.

My  mother often talked about her ongoing dilemma of career vs. home, and it wasn't until I was in middle school that she returned to the work force after 18 years of being a homemaker.  She felt that it was important to regain her identity outside of being a mother, and she managed to balance career and family so well.  I've always admired my mother for her determination and strength;  she was definitely the captain of our ship.

My mother is retired now, and just recently she has started to care for my father who has fallen ill.  Her days are so very long, and I can see the exhaustion in her eyes, and I can hear it in her voice.  And yet, somehow, she manages to keep a smile on her face.  I wish her much strength for my father's journey back to health. She is my mother, my strength. 

******
To all the mothers, I wish you a very happy mother's day.

Firsts.

Kate.  My sweet Kate.  Last week was a week of firsts for her.  (Hank and I drove down south to Coronado Island with the kids to spend their vacation time, well, vacationing).  Between trips to Sea World, the San Diego Wild Animal Park, and the zoo, we spent time in the water. . .Kate's very first time.  And I must admit that she took to the water like a fish.  Splashing!  Laughing!  Splashing!  Giggling!  It was all so very exciting for her, and it was a mixture of excitement/nostalgia for me.

I always enjoy moments of first-time experiences with my kids, and while I'm always in the present, enjoying the moment as it occurs, a part of me always tries to revel in these experiences as they are so fleeting.  Time with my kids as babes is so precious, and so very fleeting.  Seeing Kate splash about in Alison's old bathing suit brings  me much happiness, and yet, in a way I feel a sweet sense of nostalgia.  It wasn't too long ago that Alison was her age, and yep, I blinked, and now she's six.  How can that be?

We're back home now, and the house is in a state of disarray. Laundry to be done, souvenirs to be put away, mail to sort through.  But that's okay because the kids and I (and Hank) had a damn good time lazing about.  And that is what vacation is all about, don't you think?

One of my highlights of the trip was that we were able to spend time with one of my very best friends (Hi Linda!) in San Diego.  She and I have been pals since. . . since a long time now.  She's a bride-to-be, and I am happily enjoying all of the wedding planning/excitement with her.  Her husband-to-be just deployed to Pakistan today (for six months) so I am sure to keep him (and her) in my thoughts and prayers.

********
As for the CRAP SWAP...well, I'm trying to coordinate a plan of action for this crap swap as several fellow hoarders crafters have expressed that they too would like to offer their goods up for swapping.  But for now, here are just a few of the things that I have up for swap (will post more as time permits)...please read the continued. . .

Brother Jon

This past weekend has been a rollercoaster of emotions.

Shortly after Hurricane Katrina hit, my brother, who is part of FEMA, was sent out to New Orleans to help with the Rescue and Recovery mission. Upon his arrival, my brother mentioned that the aftermath of Katrina was worse than what he witnessed on 9/11. (Please click on photo* to view my bro in action in NYC -- he's on the right).

Worse than 9/11?

Initially, the FEMA team was isolated and under protection of the National Guard due to the hostile environment. This, of course, made me wary and fearful for my brother's safety.

But was all the outrage/hostility magnified by the media?

I don't know. But according to my brother and his comrads, who helped rescue over 100 people on their first day, the rescuees have been nothing but kind, grateful, peaceful souls. The details of what my brother has witnessed, though, are too, too gruesome to share here. Let me just say that these are thoughts that will haunt me for a lifetime.

So there you have it folks. Hurricane Katrina has been the underlying thought throughout my weekend. Of course, I smiled and laughed when little Kaden, a friend's babe, blew out the candles on his first birthday. And my heart smiled when Kate cooed and babbled to her sister. I also laughed out loud at Henry's new comedy routine. These are happy times, yes. But a bit of me can't help but wonder, what if this had been me? What if my family were stranded on our rooftop without a bit of food?

When my mind wanders like this, I realize I find that I hug my family a wee bit tighter and I give them that extra little kiss atop their foreheads. Afterall, they're all I have. And most importantly, they're all I need.

*Photo courtesy of West Metro Fire

*********
P.S. Hank will pull winners tonight!

Little Henry. My Brave Boy.

It's so easy to take things for granted when the movements, shuffling about, and routines of the day keep the mind occupied and busy. Like today, for example.

I was busy cooking dinner (chili!), Hank was feeding Kate, and Alison and Henry were out in the back playing. Suddenly I heard wailing from the backyard, followed by shouting. "Come help! Help!" Usually Hank and I run a little triage by first assessing how serious and high pitched the screams are before dashing to their rescue. (Once when Alison was wee, she screamed a blood curdling scream from outside -- I dashed outside only to find that she was actually squealing from delight). So screams come in a variety of pitches and levels of shrillness, and they don't always signal an emergency. Usually one of the kids has something mild, like a scraped knee or poked eye or a bonked head. But today was different.

Today my heart dropped to my knees when I saw Hank pause before rushing outside. You see, today's screams were of the ohmygodsomethinghashappened variety. Immediately I joined Hank outside, my voice suddenly no longer my own. "What happened? Oh my God, what happened?"

Little Henry was on the grass yelling in pain. Alison quickly gave me the update, "Henry was trying to get down (from the slide). . . I tried to help him. . . I tried, Mama, but he started falling.....and then he just slipped out of my hands. He's hurt, Mama."

Immediately I checked for bumps on his head. (Those always scare me most) All clear.

I looked for blood. All clear.

"His arm. He's not moving his arm." Hank notices.

At this point, Kate was screaming a my-dinner-was-interrupted scream so Hank took her inside. And Henry continued to cry. So I held him. I just held him and rocked him in my arms like a baby. I kissed his forehead while he cried. And cried. And cried.

When Alison wrapped her arms around the two of us, he cried harder and sobbed deeper. My little boy was in pain. My rough and tumble boy was now suddenly fragile and little and scared and sad.

Adventures of Super Henry!

I can kinda see it. 

If I squint real hard I can almost see the light at the end of the pee-pee tunnel.  Yesterday Henry entered POTTY TRAINING BOOT CAMP, and so far it's been urinatingly difficult.  Parenthood does not come replete with instructions or manual.  Heck! Parenthood doesn't even come with an operator's number to dial when needed.  If it did, I'm sure I'd be on hold for the next available operator to tell me what to do right now.

There are many moments in my journey as an E.M. (Evolving Mama) when advice was needed and guidance longed for.  Potty training is one such moment.  I've read through several potty training books for the golden answer, and I've picked the brains of fellow mothers.   When it comes down to it, though, I have found that oftentimes I must follow my instincts no matter how blind I feel.  Each child is different, I know, and right now Henry and I are feeling our way through, trying to find a method that works best.

After a crappy day yesterday (the score was 5 accidents, 0 successes), I felt down about Henry's lack of progress.  I tried to remain optimistic and enthusiastic, but I could tell that Henry was getting frustrated as well.  This morning I felt revived and I sent Hank and the girls to my parents' for the day so that Henry would have no distractions from either of his sisters.  It would be just Henry, me, and many, many juice boxes.

Here's how our schedule went today:
9:35 a.m. - Accident in the kitchen

10:00 a.m. - We drink juice.  I bring out Alison's doll that wets itself.  We feed her, take her to the potty.  Henry is AMAZED and intruigued by "Dolly," and he praises her by giving her treats and juice.  He tells her, "Good job, Dolly.  You're a big girl!"

10:30 a.m. - Juice in cup.  Juice in a box.  Juice here.  There. Everywhere.  We play "cheers!" by clinking our juice boxes together and taking long swigs.  I feel confident that we're going to succeed today.  I just know it.  Henry is pumped full of liquids.  He has to pee in the potty soon, right?  (BTW, we run to the potty every ten minutes and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  It's almost like watching paint dry).

10:35 a.m. - I go pee.  Henry sits on the potty.  Nada.

11:30 a.m. -
Mama:  "Henry I'm so proud of you.  You're a big----"
Henry:  "---Pee pee, Mama!  Pee pee!" (pee is dripping down Henry's legs)

We clean up, and Henry puts on clean underwear.

11:40 a.m. - (yes folks, that's TEN MINUTES LATER)
Mama:  "Okay Henry, when you feel the ---- "
Henry:  "----Mama.....pee pee.  I go pee pee....."

Lather.  Rinse. And yes, repeat.

11:50 a.m.:  (Unbelievable, I know.  A mere ten minutes later)
Mama:  (feeling defeated, but trying to remain upbeat and enthusiastic) "Okay Henry, who do you want to call when--"

drip.....drip...drip (I look down to see a puddle of pee under Henry's chair).

At this point I feel so utterly defeated.   Henry's frustration grows and he asks me, "Am I a bad boy Mama?"  My heart breaks, and I gingerly reply, "No Henry.  You're not a bad boy.  You just need to practice going pee pee in the potty."  I am on the verge of tears.  I hug my son. 

After lunch, Henry and I take a nap.  Henry wakes up dry!  Yay Henry!

Around 5:45 p.m. we visit our old porcelain pal.  Henry sits and waits.  And suddenly I see it!  That long awaited thin stream of pee!  I jump up and squeal with happiness!  Henry's face brightens into a huge smile.  We hug and dance and laugh!  I give Henry his prize (a bottle of bubbles).  He is so proud. I am so proud.  Henry is a super hero. 

"I'm a big boy, Mama!  I wear underwear just like Daddy!" Henry says over and over.

Henry and I run outside to blow bubbles, and we giggle as we watch them float high into the air like tiny o's before disappearing into nothing.

Today has been one of the longest, most trying days of my life.  And yet twenty years from now when I reflect on Henry's childhood, this day will be one of the happiest. The happiest. I just know it.

********
Read Hank's story about Alison's potty training HERE.

Feeling Like a Rockstar!

On Monday I managed to do the impossible. I went out with my three ring circus by myself.

Yes, you read that correctly, folks. By myself.

Oh yeah.

The morning started off with rapid fire packaging of boxes, boxes, and more boxes (my eBay stash and gifties! Nicole! your stuff is in transit!). I did all this between a.m. oatmeal and an a.m. tantrum (Henry's, not mine). And before I could relax and get comfortable, I loaded all the kids into the car and headed off to the pediatrician to get Alison's TB test results read. Now mind you, visiting the doctor required me to CLIMB A FLIGHT OF STAIRS.

WITH THREE KIDS.

Now let me sidetrack a bit and inform you that Alison and Henry have developed a passion for opening doors and pressing elevator buttons, and whenever there is a prospect of completing one of these tasks, I can always count on shrieks of "I'M GOING TO OPEN THE DOOR/PUSH THE BUTTON!" from the backseat. And that always follows with an even more elevated, "NO, I'M, GOING TO OPEN THE DOOR/PUSH THE BUTTON!" This banter continues until the flood gates open (read: the car door), and Alison and Henry storm out, rushing to complete the aforementioned EXCITING task!

So imagine this. I'm toting Kate in her carrier, and I have to sidestep the storming of two hyper kids eager, oh so eager to run up the stairs to....to....OPEN THE DAMN door. So while carrying my precious cargo in one hand, diaper bag in the other, I had to run up the flight of stairs to make sure that all body parts remained in tact and to ensure that no one derailed themselves off of staircase.

Anyway. Crossing "pediatrician" off of my to-do list, I was feeling a bit cocky, and decided to challenge myself and head off to my next task: THE POST OFFICE. I managed to get all three kids, stroller, and SIX (6) PACKAGES into the building! Yes! The eagle had landed! Now that I had entered the building, I knew that it would take supreme motherpower to get through this task. So I successfullly ignored the serpentine line ahead of me. I managed to ignore the man with the crate full of packages in front of me. Heck! I even ignored the annoying cellphone loud talker behind me! Yes!

Halfway through our visit, though, Henry smacked the cardboard post office display to the ground. Then Alison mumbled something about having to go potty. And then I wised up and succumed to THE BRIBE. Yes folks. I am a mother who bribes her kids. Heck wouldn't you? My kids would do ANYTHING for a McDonald's milkshake. Anything.

So I bribed. And they settled. And I smiled. Yes, I had reached ROCKSTAR status.

********

The success of Monday's tasks was preceded by the week/weekend from hell. To make a long story short, we spent $350 to rid of some bees and then our stinkin' washer died. How much does that suck? I mean who wants to drop all those Benjamins on boring stuff like that? Anyway, you can read about it over at Hank's blog.

Well, I might as well end this post with some eye candy. Let's start with this, shall we?

Or, how about this?

Check out more of these goodies, at the GIFTS GALORE ALBUM! Ooooh, so fun!!

**********

I have to admit that I am terribly behind in returning/answering e-mails. It seems as if there simply aren't enough hours in the day lately! So if I owe you a response, hang tight! :) And stay tuned for the Baby Pool Stash Album. More goodies there too!

Three Kid Circus!

I seem to be emerging from my post-pregnancy hideout!  It's been such a wonderful month of bonding with Kate, and these first precious, precious weeks will always be so memorable to me.  When I first returned from the hospital in my "post partum weepy state," I was utterly overprotective of Kate.  You'd think that she was my first born as I constantly hovered over family and friends as Kate was passed from one set of loving arms to another.  Henry, coincidentally, happened to be battling a slight cold during Kate's homecoming, and the sight of a rough and tumble three year old with a snotty nose and sticky hands around my fresh newborn was almost enough to put me in the loony bin.

I survived, though.

And then there was that initial sense of strangeness that I felt with Alison and Henry when I first returned to our happy abode.  Bringing Kate home for the first time made me feel as if I were betraying my first two babes.  Alison was obviously excited and thrilled to have a new baby in the house, but not Henry.  Oh he had an awful hard time at first.  All in one fell swoop, he was pushed up a notch in our family ranks to "middle child," and I felt a strange sense of sadness.  My baby Henry was no longer The Baby.  In comparison to wee Kate, he was so big and grown up.  Where had my baby Henry gone?

Rest assured, though, that it took only a matter of days for the old Henry to return!

One evening (Kate was two weeks, I think), my friend Michelle was visiting with her husband and 10 month old, Kaden.  They had brought food and gifts galore, and after a short visit, I walked them to the door when suddenly I heard this:

Kate:  “Waaaaa!  Waaa!  Waaaaaaa!”

Me:  (I ran to Kate to find Henry hovering over her.) “Henry! What’s wrong? Why is she crying?”

Henry:  (in a sing-songy voice) “Me bit baby’s finger.....”

Me:  “WHAAAAT?” (blood rushes out of my head)

Henry:  “Me bit baby’s finger.  Baby’s crying now, Mama.”

Moments like this make me wish life came complete with LifeVo.....oh how I wish I could pause real time or even rewind it!!!  Maybe the techie folk can work on that! 

Anyway, Kate was fine.  Henry was fine (despite a stern scolding). But Mama was a bit  shaken (and stirred!) 

Hank returned to work after two weeks off, and I was finally able to experience THE JOY! THE FUN! THE CRAZINESS of a real life THREE KID CIRCUS®. Ohboyohboy!  Yes it’s nuts! Yes it’s fun! Yes it’s not so fun!  If there were an ad for my life, it would look a little something like this:
Okay so I'm exaggerating here......
(enter sounds of crickets chirping)
.....Actually, no I'm not kidding.  My life is a full-fledged THREE RING CIRCUS.  But it's fun and memorable despite its craziness.  One thing that I've learned from my kids is that it's important TO SLOW DOWN and ENJOY THE LITTLE BLESSINGS of life. 

So while Henry continues to color on his walls, and while Alison continues to ask a bizillion questions a day, I am content knowing that we're also busy creating fond memories for years to come. 

******
I am desperately behind in posting photos of snail mail goodies (both for my birthday and for Kate's arrival). . . but I think that I will have to save that for next time.  In the meantime, I will leave you a link for KATE'S PHOTO ALBUM.  If you're a new reader, please know that I have password protected my albums for the protection of my kids and for my own sanity.  EVERYONE IS INVITED to view the albums -- I just want to know who's viewing them.  That's all.  Either post a comment here or e-mail me for the user id/password.  :)

AND!  Believe it or not I plan on RELAUNCHING THE PAPER PRINCESS!  Yes!  August marks the FIVE YEAR ANNIVERSARY of my shop, and I can't wait to get it back online!  As a teaser, I'd like to give you a sneak peek of one of my newest designs (inspired by Kathleen...explanation later).  I had this design professionally printed into notecards. . .and I just got 'em last week!  This is one of five new designs that I will introduce in AUGUST! There!  I've said it!  I've committed myself to relaunching my site this August!  And now folks, here is my newest design:

Oh and that odd pink Rubber-Sol title above? I e-mailed typepad about that. "What is that? And where did it come from," I asked. Their answer? "I dunno." Neither do I. But they said they're "working on it." Grand.

And one more thing. How could I forget? Hank started another blog. Now you can read his work over here at Shotgun Daddy. Go on and take a peek, and leave a comment or two. He's really funny!

Rubber Sol's Boiling Point

EPISODE 24, AKA “Oh God, Wait Until Your Father Gets Home”

CAST:
HENRY:  devilish toddler with a penchant for shenanigans. 
ALLIE:  cranky youngster on a Valentine sugar high
LESLIE:  exhausted, frumpy, loopy, highly volatile mom on the verge of explosion.

SHOW SYNOPSIS:  Watch this episode of RS’s Boiling Point as Henry and Allie push their mother to the edge. Again.  The scene opens at Allie’s preschool.  As rain strikes down, providing muddy pools o’ fun for Henry, dozens of mothers, perfectly coifed and manicured, line up to pick up their children from class.  Henry has a new umbrella which sets the stage for poked eyes, errant splashing, and random tantrums.

Watch as the fun continues at home when Henry refuses to come into the house.  Watch him run circles in the driveway, only to collapse into a heap right in the middle of a fresh puddle of water!  And what will Leslie do when Henry shoves his hand down his pants to reveal a hand covered in poo?   The gags and laughter are non-stop in this episode.

OTHER EPISODE HIGHLIGHTS INCLUDE:   
• Guffaw as Leslie frantically apologizes to other mothers for her son’s antics:
L: “Sorry there.  (he he)  I know your LV purse is new and all, but my son, my son.....”    
Other Mother:“Excuse me, isn’t that your son over there? (points to Henry running across the muddy field)
L: (horrified, but laughs softly) “Ha ha.....er..... ‘HENRY GET BACK HERE NOW!’”

• Watch as Leslie tries to decipher the unrelenting, desperate pleas of her three year old.
H:  “Umbrewa, Mama, umbrewa!”
L:  “Here you go,  Henry...”
H:  “No, Mama, Noooooo!  Um-bre-wa!”
L:  “Do you want me to fold it up?”
H:  “Uh huh....” (Leslie begins folding....)
H:  “No Mama, Nooooooo!  NO umbrewa!” (shoves umbrella;  it drops into the mud)
L and H:  “WAAAAAAAA”

• You’ll (continue to) thank God you’re not Leslie when:
- Alison's freshly crafted Valentines fall into a puddle of rain.
- Alison says, "Mama your tummy is getting real, real big.....kinda like a whale"
- Henry showers the living room floor with three boxes of candy hearts (just after Leslie's swept the floor)
- a loud shatter comes from Henry's room (two broken bowls)
- Henry grabs his sister's candy and then throws it under the couch, rendering it "unreachable"
- As Leslie moves the couch to retrieve candy, Henry spanks Leslie's butt with his toy car.

And finally, watch as the episode wraps up:
Leslie calls Hank at work, scaring him to death.
L: "Hi uh.....I'm having a really bad day, and...... (voice goes up several octaves) ....Henry broke a.... (sob sob sob) ......and then candy hearts .... (full-blown wailing) ........"
H: ".....I'm coming home...."
L:  "No don't (sob) come home . . . and then I was a whale....."

*****
Yep, so that was my day yesterday.  It's all rather funny now that I look back on the chain of shenanigans.  But when I'm in the moment, I feel like a tea kettle on boil! 

Oh Violet . . . Anne . . . , please tell me these little boys grow up to be gentlemen.  They do, right?