My smart phone battery has been giving me all sorts of trouble lately, and needs to be charged every 3-4 hours recently.  Of course I didn’t have the car charger with me, so it died during my morning of work, errands, and kid-carpools.  I didn’t get to check my email until mid-afternoon, after BabyMuffin and I had run to a few stores after I picked him up from preschool.  That’s when I saw the email.  The message that let me know that Jim had passed yesterday morning after a long battle with cancer.  He’s the father of Erin, the gal who was my mother’s helper for a few summers.

I immediately broke into tears upon reading that news.  I am glad Jim is at peace now, but my heart aches for his wife, Ann, and their three children.  It totally sucks for them.  Ann has lost the love of her life, and Erin and her brothers have lost their father, their Dad.

It put my morning blues into perspective.  I was sad and stressed because I wanted time…but thank God I have time.  Time to work, time to pick up kids, time to shop and run errands.  Time to live and be with those I love.

Yesterday afternoon and evening, I made an effort to hug my kids and The Husband a little tighter, plant more kisses than usual.  Last night, instead of getting irritated by The Husband wanting to cuddle up to me when I was already hot (and he would’ve made me sweaty!), I just thought of how Ann is no longer able to snuggle up to her Jim.  It changed my attitude.  I am grateful for my family, even as my heart breaks for Ann and her children.

Recently, my friend Emily was talking about her two sons.  They are similarly aged to my two boys:  her older is in 2nd grade, and the younger just turned four.

Her words about loving them so resonated with me that I asked if I could quote her here.

Noah’s my good natured, happy go lucky little guy, and my love for him is pretty constant. If I were to get all geeky, it’d be a straight horizontal line on a graph. But Daniel…. He’s my sine curve. Half the time he makes me so damn frustrated and so damn angry, and I swear, I’m going to sell him to the circus, and I don’t want to be anywhere near him. And then, he turns into this sweet little bundle of love, and I just adore him. Awfully hard to remember those times when he’s being a little shit though.

Oh, how I get it.  It is also true of my two sons to a tee, and I could have not said it any better.

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Check out Emily Steele Photography if you’re in the DC Metro area!  Emily takes awesome pictures.  One of these days, I’m going to have to get her to shoot my kids.  With a camera, I mean.

In anticipation of this week, I’ve made it a point to line up playdates and activities to limit the amount of Mommy versus Three time.  Our playdate today wasn’t scheduled to start until after lunch, so I decided to take The Three on an excursion to a local park with their bicycles.

Let me just say that the bikes were indeed ridden.  But also?  Voices were raised in anger.  Tears were cried as well.  Tantrums were thrown in spectacular fashion.  It wasn’t the fun time I’d anticipated.  It’s sad when the good time I planned instead produces frustration and tears for all.

Fortunately, I was smart enough to realize the bike riding was not going to be a smashing success, so I we quickly moved to Plan B.

Unfortunately, Plan B entailed going to Costco, and I was not smart enough to realize this might be a big mistake, given BabyMuffin’s super-bad mood.  And my super-bad reaction to his super-bad mood.

Actually, the shopping portion of the trip went smoothly.  Lunch in the Costco café went pretty well, too.  It wasn’t until we were cleaning up to leave that things fell apart.

While I was getting a piece of foil to wrap up our leftovers, BabyMuffin threw out the remainder of his pizza.  He was just trying to be helpful, I guess.  When I told him I had been planning to take the pizza home, he burst into tears and began hollering.  He wanted to fish the pizza out of the trashcan.  I would not let him.  He wanted me to get the pizza out of the trashcan.  I would not.  He wanted me to purchase another slice of pizza for him.  I refused to do so.  And so I was That Mother who was walking out of the Costco with a bright red screaming child trailing behind her.  BabyMuffin continued to wail that he wanted his pizza.  Every single eye in the place was upon us (so I felt).  My blood pressure was rising, and I was on the verge of snapping at my son.

I managed to wait until we were at the car before I did so.

I called our playdate and explained that it had been a very tantrummy morning, and BabyMuffin just needed to go home and have a nap.

And I probably need one, too.

I don’t normally buy kim chi on my own…for the infrequent times I do make the purchase, my mom is usually with me.  Alas, she is half a world away and we are not due to be in the same state for another four months.  So I was on my own, squinting at the jars of kim chi, as if that would magically reveal which was the one to get.

I was at a total loss.  I couldn’t be sure the one I was eyeing was the one my mom normally makes me get.  So, I did what any gal in her late 30s would do.

I called my mom.

The conversation was comical, at best.  Mom was in a very loud area and could barely hear me.  I was in a grocery store surrounded by tons of ambient noise.

I hollered my question at her, “WHAT KIND OF KIM CHI AM I SUPPOSED TO GET?”

She bellowed back, “You want to MAKE kim chi??!””

“NO NO!  I AM NOT MAKING KIM CHI.  I WANT TO BUY KIM CHI BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHICH TO GET!”

“Okay!  Go to the Korean grocery store and…”

“I AM ALREADY AT THE KOREAN GROCERY STORE.  THERE ARE LOTS OF KIM CHI JARS AROUND ME AND I DON’T KNOW WHICH ONE TO GET!”

“Look at the jars and figure out which one you like.”

“MOM!  I AM LOOKING AT THE JARS AND I DON’T KNOW WHICH ONE…”

“It probably says Kim Chi on it.”

And so the conversation went.  Not real helpful.

While I was shouting on the phone for the entire store to hear, a very helpful clerk scurried over and showed me all sorts of different jars of kim chi, according to what I was screeching at the moment.  Finally, I just grabbed the nearest jar in order to get off the phone and spare everyone’s eardrums.

Later, though, I had to smile because I am glad I can call and have these conversations with her.

Wooden cutout flowers, paint, stick on jewels, pipe cleaner, and a pencil
(plus I used my power drill to make a small hole in the center of the flowers).
Voila!

This past Saturday, the DC area bore the brunt of torrential rainstorms. Sheets of rain poured down, causing power outages, dangerous flash flooding, and felled tree limbs throughout the area. Lovely cascades flowed out of gutters, and yard became small ponds!

In my neighborhood of pitted roads and uneven sidewalks, puddles of epic proportions quickly formed. Our street, which is slightly sloped the entire length of it, became a gentle waterfall with beautiful ripples of rain crawling down the pavement. I was mesmerized watching the water move in so many different ways across and around our every day fixtures.

The Husband and I attempted to occupy our three children inside; nonetheless, they became squirrely. Who can blame them? They had spent most of the previous week playing outdoors on the sun-drenched playground, or riding their bicycles through the neighborhood. So on Saturday, they were forced to stare longingly out the windows at the Noah’s Ark rain. They reminded me of roly-poly puppies straining their noses to the fresh scent of outdoors.

Finally, the rain let up late in the afternoon. I ordered the kids to put on their boots and go jump in puddles. They cheered and scrambled to find their rain boots. The Husband sighed and shook his head in dismay. Bito, Cupcake, BabyMuffin and I headed out the front door before he could stop us.

It was sheer delight for my children stomp in every puddle they could find. And stomp they did! The mud, which had been kicked up by the hard storms, was swiftly spattered all over them. They ran up and down the sidewalk to inspect each puddle, and to trudge through the deepest water they could find. I followed along with my camera and snapped away. I loved capturing the joy my children were exhibiting!

The Husband, despite his eye-rolling and weak protests as we headed out the door, wisely lined towels along the foyer floor. When the kids finally returned to our home, exhausted and soaking wet, he directed them to undress and head straight to the bathtub.

I don’t own boots, but after gingerly stepping around the water to photograph the kids’ fun, I’ve decided I need to get my own boots. Next time, I want to play along with them!

As much as birthday parties are enjoyed by all, it’s really starting to cut into our weekend family time!  Parent One will accompany one kid to their party, and Parent Two is left with the remaining two children.  And some days like today, Parent Two will also take another child to a different party, juggling the third child until Parent One can pick up third child.  It can be quite a headache trying to figure out the weekend schedule!

It’s a conundrum.  I want my kids to experience the joy of birthday parties–and it seems they already do since they become so excited at the news of This Kid or That Kid’s upcoming party!  However, I also want to protect the family time that we’ve established. Keeping it as a priority is important to me, especially while the kids are young and still want to be with us.

If only weekends were a day longer…

A baby dog, that is.  A puppy!

It’s been over a year since our beloved labrador passed on.  I’ve been ready and wanting a dog since the summer.  This past Christmas, The Husband finally gave in consented for us to adopt another canine.  Since December 25, 2010, I’ve been scouring the local rescues, animal shelters, and Craigslist like it was my full-time job!

Things finally came together this weekend…and last night, we brought home a 12 week old puggle-min pin puppy (min-puggle-pin?)!  **Omar Little has been in our family for the past 24 hours and has already stolen my heart.

Part of me thinks I am crazy for bringing a puppy into the family.  After all, do I really want another baby clinging to me and needing my attention?  And, there are plenty of adult dogs who are up for adoption!  The Husband and I pondered long and hard about that.

In the end, however, we decided Now is a good time to adopt a puppy, one who could grow up with our kids.  And so far, Omar’s puppy kisses and cuddles are wonderful;  I love his sweet dependence on me.  So far.

It’s refreshing to have another baby in our lives…albeit a slightly different type.  I am enjoying the showers of love Omar freely gives me, and I love watching my kids interact with him.  Adding to the family in such an intentional manner opens another perspective I’m gaining about the people my children are becoming.

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**Why Omar Little?  He’s our favorite character from the HBO series The Wire.

“Oh really?  Which post?”  I asked, curious to gauge her reaction to my writing.

“The one where you said you were going to post something every day for 30 days.  Then you only  did one day.  That’s it.”

Well.  Yes.  I guess I didn’t get too far on the 30 Days of Truth!

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Yesterday, BabyMuffin and I were heading to the local Target to pick up some stuff.  I spotted a front row parking spot in a lane next to the one I was in, so I directed my minivan toward it.  Hooray, I thought.  Unfortunately, I had to make a left turn to get into the lane with the prize spot…and an oncoming pickup truck signaled to turn right into the same row.  Since he had right of way, I waited…and watched in dismay as the macked-out truck stole my primo parking space!

Silently I groused and vented.  I didn’t appreciate the big shiny pickup with its tuff-guy stickers and decals stealing my parking spot!  His Army Ranger decal indicated he should be in good enough shape to walk from a space farther from the door.  Plus, I had a small child with me, and it was a cold windy day!  I found another spot and parked my car.  It took awhile to coax a particularly obstinate BabyMuffin out of the car, and we began the  long, chilly trek to the Target front doors.  I shot a look of irritation at the driver of the pickup truck, who was dawdling beside his beautifully waxed vehicle, rooting around in the back of the extended cab.

As I passed by the guy, I realized he was rooting around back there getting his own small child out.  The guy was carefully putting up his toddler’s hood, and gently placing him in the seating basket of the shopping cart.

I felt bad for making assumptions so quickly based on the vehicle.  What’s that saying about not judging a book by its cover… ?

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I was all set to come here and post about how in-hate I was with my husband after a really horrible day yesterday with some really awful fighting between us, and lo, doorbell rings and there is a big bouquet of flowers for me.

Flowers don’t make everything better, but they sure do a job on me. Signed for the flowers, closed the door, burst into tears, and called my husband — after not having spoken all day. I was feeling so hard on him all day, and then — flowers! — and now I’m soft.

In some ways we are truly an awful match, him and me. I’m afraid it’s true — we both probably could have chosen someone better suited to our needs. But then again, I love him very much. He is a good person, and he loves me, too. Very, very much.

Sometimes I get so frustrated…But at some point it’s not just “a relationship” : He’s my home and my friend and my lover and my family. He’s my mirror. I need him, sometimes I forget just how much. I focus on some little part of the “relationship” and forget that it goes so, so much deeper than that.

Good call on the flowers, honey. I needed that. Thank you so much.