Red Star Mama

Bitter. And sweet.

2011-07-04T21:53:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhhh. Hear that? Yeah, that. That great big SILENCE in my house. For the first time in days. Maybe weeks. My ears feel like soldiers grateful for the reprieve from battery. My brain is clearing, unclouding, slowing down, waking up. For this brief slice of time, I don't have to explain anything to anyone. And I especially don't have to explain the same thing to one person six times in a row because that one person either isn't really listening, is watching TV while attempting to listen, or just forgets the pertinent details (or actually, everything) immediately after the explanation is given.

Some days I feel like I need to be alone and quiet or the part of me that makes me, me is going to burst into a cloud of obliteration. Some days I feel guilty about this. Most days it just feels like survival.

Is it merely because I hate cleaning, and particularly cleaning up after children that I feel as though the mark of a good homemaker/stay at home mom/wife/woman is how clean her house is? Because I really hate cleaning. Especially when I know that there are three small people in my house whose main endeavor in this life is to follow me around and dirty whatever I've just cleaned. And when I say just cleaned, I mean the cleaner isn't even dry yet. Basically, the reason they coined the phrase "exercise in futility". Even so, I feel this pressure to have a clean house. Do I like my house to be clean? Of course. Do I want to live in a pigsty? No, not particularly, my love of pigs notwithstanding. Was I born in a barn? My mom will attest that I was not. Nevertheless, I go about my day resenting the fact that somewhere, pressure is being exerted on me to have a clean house, and yet maddened by the pointlessness of cleaning a house where kids live. In fact, the concept of a housekeeper is an unconquerable paradox for me. Pay someone to clean what will unavoidably get dirty right away? I just can't wrap my brain around that one.

There are times when I feel an overwhelming panic to crawl into some solitary den, just so I don't have to give an opinion, be the one to make a decision, encourage or approve or appreciate, nurture, tolerate, make small talk or act like I care, a powerful mania to let my mind, my consciousness rest, no concerns, no worries, no hopes or desires, to simply and plainly be.

I'm really not this bitter or cynical or whiny. Really, truly, I'm not. Some things you just have to let out. It could just be the effects of summer vacation, but I'm pretty sure I'm not alone here, either.

And on the flip side, there are moments when I look at my children and cannot conceive that such beautiful creatures exists, and moreover, that this beauty is mine and my responsibility to shape. Some days I cry when I think of the unutterable sweetness of motherhood. Once in a while, I laugh all day long. And every day, even the days when I must choose between solitude and sanity, every day, the thought of these little bodies growing big and going away makes me want to gather them up and stop time, never, ever let them go.

U2

2011-06-09T13:07:00.000-07:00

I am eternally grateful and indebted to Brad Jones. I mean, I had led a full and happy life prior to that June night in 1997; I was content and excited about the future. And then Brad showed me what I was missing.

Pop Mart was probably U2's least successful tour, behind an album that confused most listeners. I didn't care.

It was magical.

I have never missed a tour since, and I swear I never will.

At the Elevation show in Anaheim, Justin became a convert. (I couldn't have married him otherwise.)

We were both giddy about this show, and even being at the top of the Staples Center was amazing.

In 2010, this tour began:

I bought tickets (of course!), then realized that this show was three weeks after Calum would be born. With the determination and passionate stubborness of a die hard fan, I decided I didn't care that I would be less than a month post-natal and post-c-section. I would have gone, left my newborn and my other two children with a babysitter. This kind of experience only happens once every four or five years.

Well, unfortunately for him, and fortuitously for me, Bono sustained a back injury which forced a postponement of the second leg of the North American tour. Meaning that I would have to wait another year to see my boys. Mixed blessing is a phrase coined specifically for this situation.

Time passed, as it always does, and suddenly the day had arrived. As Justin and I joined the madness filing into the Oakland Coliseum (which, incidentally, I refuse to call by its new name, O.co Coliseum), I felt that exhilaration again. U2 fans are like no other fans in the world, and there most of the time you can't even hear Bono sing, because the audience has taken the lyrics over. It's like being a part of one huge musical organism.We walked onto the field, and then into the inside of the catwalk, less than 30 feet from the stage and right under one the moving bridges that surrounded it. The people near us were true fans, Irish on our left and right, and there were kids everywhere. We sang every song at the top of our lungs, and when Bono and The Edge walked past us on the bridge, I could have reached up and touched their hands.

This is the only photo I took, but yes, we were that close, and it was glorious. I wore my concert t-shirt yesterday.

Next time we're bringing Declan.

(Most of my cousins are also U2 die-hards, so next tour, I think there will be a whole new generation introduced to the boys from Dublin. Must be something in the blood.)

Thank you, Magic 8 Ball!

2011-05-31T17:47:00.000-07:00

Declan told me that a friend of his brought a Magic 8 Ball to school today.

"I asked the Magic 8 Ball if I would be rich and have a robot, and it said very likely!" he related with great satisfaction.

My question is will the robot come before or after the financial independence? Either way, doesn't get any cooler than Declan.

Also, my idea of rich and a robot is always closely associated with Rocky IV, when Rocky and Adrienne give Pauly the singing robot for his birthday.

Down On The Farm

2011-05-26T20:11:00.000-07:00

I have seen my vision realized.

Well, I have seen someone who is realizing their version of my vision. And I approve wholeheartedly.

Declan's grade went on a field trip today to a farm here in Aptos. Some of the second grade classes hatched duck and chicken eggs, and then gave them to the farmer. (Declan's class was grossly unsuccessful in their hatching endeavors, and ended up getting a few chicks on loan from the local feed store.) So the chicks and the ducks were briefly hailed as long lost companions and then ignored completely.

I had the choice to drive on this field trip or a visit to a bakery. I was torn until the bakery tour was cancelled. Farm it is.

I am so glad I went.

Abramson Farm is exactly what I would love to have someday. The family cultivates 4 of their 20 acres, they are certified organic, and their goal is to make the property pay for itself.

They raise blueberries, Meyer lemons, grapes, apples, oranges, avocados, herbs, chickens, ducks and pigs. Oh, and did I mention that they have beehives? My fondest dream ever?! Well, consider it mentioned.

Also, the farm is situated in a long valley called Blackberry Canyon, with lots of sun (unusual for most of Aptos), lots of trees (not unusual at all for Aptos), and the air smells like lavender and redwoods and ocean.

It will be mine. Oh, yes, it will be mine.

Why I can never leave my car unlocked...

2011-05-23T18:38:00.000-07:00

A conversation between Greer and me, as we were getting into the car this morning:
Me, heavily sarcastic: Wow, Greer, do you think you could have smeared any more fingerprints on your window?
Greer, adorably innocent: Mom, it wasn't me, I promise!
Me, laughingly incredulous: Greer, no one else could have done it. You're the only person who sits by that window.
Greer, very logically: Well, Mom, you always leave your car unlocked. Maybe a raccoon got in and did it.

Also, she has been "drizzling" Declan's basketball all over the house today.

Chocolate Cake: A Love Affair in Pictures

2011-05-23T13:04:00.000-07:00

Shout Hooray!

2011-05-21T10:14:00.000-07:00

One year ago today, I was in the hospital. I couldn't get out of bed, and I was hooked up to all kinds of really irritating machines. I was in pain. Like, a lot of pain.

But I didn't really care about any of that.

My world was focused on one thing.

This:

And now, on his first birthday, my vision has widened a bit, but he still looms pretty large.

Happy birthday, Calum! You are so loved! Your silly laugh, your drunken zombie walk, your happy baby talk high-volume yells, and your adorable little body bring so much joy to our family!

Deep Knit

2011-05-18T10:01:00.000-07:00

So here's why I haven't been blogging for a while:

Leaf Lace Scarf with Knitted Flowers

Kid hats, clockwise from bottom left: Declan, Sawyer, Hartlee, Eric, Calum

I've been knitting like crazy!

(I have a few other things I forgot to take pictures of,before sending them to people, and two big projects that are almost done. More photos to come.)

Easter 2011

2011-05-18T09:37:00.000-07:00

Cousins, Cousins, Everywhere

2011-05-18T09:32:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, the Hamblys of Aptos traveled to Simi Valley, to hang out with the St. George, Utah and Champaign, Illinois branches of the family tree.

With ten of the thirteen Hambly grandchildren in the house, and six of those ten under age six, there was a sense of controlled and joyful chaos most of the time. Add to that four reunited Hambly siblings and their spouses, which equates to a lot of reminiscing, a lot of guitar playing, a lot of laughter and a whole lot of food.

One of the things that I enjoy about huge Hambly gatherings is how much we all love and enjoy each other's children. One night I watched as Justin's brother took his daughter upstairs to bed; they left the room amid a chorus of "Goodnight!" and "Love you!" It makes me happy to know that it wouldn't matter which child was going to bed. The love would be the same. And I am so grateful that my children have a part in that love. I know they feel it, and I can see the sense of security it brings them.

Plus, have you seen the Hambly grandkids? It's easy to love kids as adorable and awesome as these ones!

(The same goes for my side of the family, whose recent massive baby boom bodes well for crazy cousin reunions in the future.)

My job

2011-05-07T21:47:00.000-07:00

My job is hard. And time-consuming. And all-around draining. Messy, dirty, and sometimes disgusting. I very rarely get a whole day off. And really, I will never reach retirement age.

My job is glorious. And all-encompassing. And tears-in-my-eyes joyful. Silly, hopeful, and sometimes a door straight to heaven opens up, right in my home. And really, why would I ever want to retire?

My job is a divine position, part of a perfect plan that stretches across all eternity and all creation.

My job is not unique, nor am I the first person to do it. I know so many who perform the same work, and so many whose professional excellence I admire.

My job doesn't earn my any financial remuneration; in fact, it costs me money more often than not.

My job rewards me in love, in stick-figure drawings and chubby-armed hugs; righteous choices and kind hearts and an ingrained sense of self and self-worth.

My job required years of preparational observation and a jump-into-the-deep-end plunge into on-the-job training that is stamped into both my heart and my sleep pattern.

My job has enlarged me spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and occasionally physically.

I am a mother, and my job will never be done.

There is no higher calling, no more rewarding madness, no sweeter blessing than that of motherhood.

I couldn't ask for a better job.

I still wouldn't mind a day off, here or there.

To Leslie, Bea, Ruth, Marg, Barbara, Merle, Norma, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. To so many other colleagues in the motherhood industry, you inspire me on a momentary basis.

On Shopping With My Children

2011-03-04T09:40:00.000-08:00

We took Justin to the airport yesterday afternoon. He is spending a few days in Boise, doing heaven knows what with his little friends.

I took advantage of the proximity to San Jose airport to the nearest H&M and Pinkberry, both located at Santana Row in Santa Clara.

Here are a few thoughts from the afternoon:

I probably should be more upset that Borders is closing stores. I should probably have some philosophical reaction to the deeper meaning and implications. But really, I'm not and I don't. I have a Kindle and all of the books at Borders were 20% off.

Not many people at Santana Row at 4 p.m. on a Thursday have 3 kids with them. In fact, I was the only one. And several people looked surprised to see that I did.

H&M is not a store to shop in while alone with the above-mentioned quantity of children. Also, on the 5-star stroller-friendliness scale, this H&M rates about 1.5 stars. (This does not, in any way, detract from my enjoyment of H&M's products, merely my shopping experience and my sanity.)

Pinkberry is so yummy, it gives me goosebumps. Also, whoever invented the new Blood Orange flavor should be given a highly prestigious medal or award or honorary degree. Or the Nobel Prize.

Not only would I like to live at Anthropologie and drape myself in piles of their clothing, but the very air inside an Anthropologie store smells the way I hope it smells in heaven.

The Container Store is a dangerous place to take unrestrained Greers. And the lady at the Container Store, while looking quite grandmotherly, (which one would think would make her alive to the hazards and attention span of a mother with small children in a store full of things to touch) was extremely and overly helpful, and painfully obtuse. In her defense, I did make the mistake of telling her what I was looking for, rather than continuing through the store to look on my own. Because when I did get away from her, I found exactly what I wanted, and for $3.99 no less.

*Note to Container Store Lady: It is more important to me that my children are beating each other with your store's neon pink and orange plastic kid chairs than that you have found me the perfect container for my knitting needles. (Which, incidentally was not remotely what I was looking for.) So please stop trying to sell me the absolute wrong thing and allow me to discipline my children with the exaggerated patience of restrained fury before they lay waste to your store.

A convenient restroom makes everyone a little easier to handle.

Knitting Project #2, or, The Long and Short of It

2011-02-17T11:56:00.000-08:00

I, the self-taught knitter, ended up making this project twice. It was a lesson in the importance of yarn tension. The first blanket came out shorter than it was wide, and super curly. Undaunted, and with plenty of yarn left, I began again. Greer's baby dolls have been sleeping quite snugly under the results of round 1.

That slightly embarrassing admission made, I love this sweet thing. I am definitely going to file this pattern away for future use.

Round 1 on top, Round 2 underneath
Round 2 is about 8 inches longer and 6 inches wider than Round 1. And much cuter, I might add.)

I'm still perfecting my technique for changing colors, but I was happy with this pattern. Plus you can get two blankets out of the yarn. This one was also from Lion Brand and can be found here.

Next up, hats for the kids and this (but in different colors):

Off the Wagon, On the Wagon

2011-02-17T11:35:00.000-08:00

My sister came to visit us in early September. We went up to San Francisco and Justin and I indulged in a "Farewell to Carbs" weekend before plunging full force into the Atkins Diet.

I lost 10 pounds the first week.

It was great to be able to eat cheese and cream and butter and bacon.

It was less great not to be able to eat fruit. And bread. And carrots or peas.

But I stuck with it and it took me a few weeks to start losing weight.

In the meantime, Weight Watchers, my help in ages past, had revamped their Points system, so that it was now more of a low carb, low fat program. And fruit had a Points value of zero.

Justin, of course, began to melt away almost immediately. He has lost very close to 60 pounds by now.

By the end of January, after losing about 20 pounds, I decided I liked eating fruit and carrots and peas, and bread on a limited basis. Also, I thought my gallbladder-less body might appreciate that I was putting less fat into it.

I switched back to Weight Watchers on my birthday, January 31.

I've been eating a lot of fruit.

I've also lost almost 7 pounds.

Knitting Project #1

2011-02-12T12:59:00.000-08:00

My first completed knitting project was this darling thing:

It took me about 4 hours to figure out, on my own, how to knit a knit 1, purl 1 rib, but once I got it, this scarf just flew off my needles. It is so chunky and soft and comfy. I packed it off to my sister in Pittsburgh, where the temperature is some impossible single digit, like 7 or something.

The pattern is from Lion Brand Yarns, and is a beginner level project. You can find it here, if you are suddenly seized with a desire to make one for yourself. I think I might have to.

Next project:

I'm at the purple and green stripe almost at the top, with the three top stripes to go. Holy cuteness! (This is for one of Justin's clients, who is expecting her first baby in May.) There will be photos soon.

Why I Would Buy A Treadmill From Costco Again...Even Though I Didn't.

2011-02-12T12:49:00.000-08:00

So my treadmill, which was only 2 years old, died. Well, I guess it was technically comatose, because when I turned it on, it would hum really loudly and the fan blew full blast, but the display screen remained a pixellated gray blank and the belt didn't move.

So Justin took it apart and the two of us hauled that huge, unwieldy, HEAVY thing up the stairs out of our bedroom, down the stairs to the driveway and into his truck.

I fell while trying to climb into the truck bed and almost rolled down the driveway. Really. Justin said his thought as I fell was,"Well, there she goes..."

I recovered myself and we all piled into the truck and unloaded the beast at Costco.

Where they gave us a full refund. I mean full. As in $875.00 full. Beautiful.

This is why I would buy a treadmill from Costco again. Even though I didn't.

I bought this lovely instead:

It doesn't look quite as cool with a baby seat on the back, but Calum and I are having a great time.

Coming Soon

2011-01-20T13:08:00.000-08:00

My birthday is next Monday.

Justin is flying my mom up here and sending us off for a night and day in San Francisco.

My mom will be here a week from today.

I have a whole list of places I want to go, shopping I want to do, footloose and kid-free.

I have a whole list of food I want to sample, without stopping to count the carbs.

I might just scrap my lists and wander around the city and just talk to my mom, without any pint-sized interruptions.

I CAN"T WAIT!

'Twas brillig...

2011-01-06T17:10:00.000-08:00

Declan, Greer and I watched the new-ish Tim Burton version of Alice in Wonderland today. I loved how there were bits of "The Jabberwocky" scattered through the film, so I bought Lewis Carroll's collected works on my Kindle (for a whopping $1.99). And now I can't stop singing it, a la the Cheshire Cat in the animated Disney version.

I think Declan and Greer are a little concerned. Calum seems to enjoy it.
It's so delightful and so brilliant, I just have to post it here, for the general uplifting of the populace:

Jabberwocky

by Lewis Carroll

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Frumious Bandersnatch? Come on, how can you not enjoy language like that?!

Merry Knit-Mas

2010-12-31T11:23:00.000-08:00

Justin and I were actually able to surprise each other for Christmas this year. I opened his gift to me, and lo and behold:

I'm not sure that most women would appreciate a box of knitting paraphernalia as a Christmas gift from their husbands, but I have long been in search of a hobby that doesn't involve sugar and eating. (Fear not, I will continue to bake, just not as ferociously as before.) As you can see from the purple swatch in the lower left corner, I figured out the very basics and hope to be able to progress to projects such as these:

Yes, I'm kidding. Although these lovelies can be found in my "The All-New Teach Yourself To Knit" book. It just goes to show that any talent can be misused.

Ok, here they are...

2010-12-31T10:58:00.000-08:00

Thank you to Sarah Pope Photography for a stress-free shoot and some beautiful photos!

Christmas Sunday 2010

2010-12-19T19:06:00.000-08:00

Christmas clothes were worn by all to church today:

Declan
(we convinced him to wear a sweater, for the first time in four years!)

Greer
(I love this dress so much it hurts me!)

Calum
(Does it get any cuter? I doubt it.)

The Quilt That I Built

2010-12-18T15:13:00.000-08:00

I have always loved the artwork of Eric Carle, of "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" and "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" fame. Just before Calum was born, I found a line of fabrics based on Carle's artwork. I intended, quite ambitiously, to make Calum a quilt before he was born.

Well, Calum will be seven months old on Tuesday, and I have just, not ten minutes ago, finished his quilt. He will be receiving it for Christmas, along with a stuffed Very Hungry Caterpillar.

This is my second most ambitious project, after the diaper bag I made very shortly before Calum was born. The diaper bag came out pretty good, but I just love this quilt!

Not the best shot, but good enough...

Nighttime panel

Daytime panel

Cheerful little spider applique

The Fam 2010

2010-12-17T21:22:00.000-08:00

A little taste of 2010

(I'll post the best ones when all of the grandmas get their Christmas gifts...)

Declan's Gift

2010-12-13T08:25:00.000-08:00

A tall Christmas tree in a busy downtown restaurant.

A mountain of unwrapped donated toys.

A small boy learns who will receive these gifts, and why.

A folded kid's menu, printed on both sides with games, placed quietly under the tree.

The small boy gives his games for children without any.

Knowing the small boy's gesture will be misunderstood, his parents acknowledge the kindness with approval and a hug.

The small boy and his father briefly leave the restaurant.

When they return, a small toy is placed on the pile by the small boy.

The toy takes the place of the folded kid's menu,

but nothing can replace the sweetness and love of Declan's original gift.

Mean Bears

2010-12-07T07:25:00.000-08:00

We went down to Simi Valley this past weekend for our newest nephew Asher's blessing. We arrived home after a family-packed threee days, to find that all was well here in Aptos, around 11 p.m. on Sunday. We promptly retired. (Why is it that driving makes one so sleepy?)

Anyway, sometime between our arrival Sunday night and 9:30 Monday morning, when Justin went to leave for work, some unscrupulous person stole his motorcycle, right out of our garage. They even left prints of their bum on the side of Justin's truck.

Well, we are all highly disturbed by this event, especially Greer:

Greer: Mom, who took Dad's bike?

Me: I don't know . Someone who isn't very nice.

Greer: I think it was bears.

Me, trying to drive and NOT laugh: Why do you think it was bears, Greer?

Greer: Because they're mean.

I guess she's heard us blame the raccoons, rats and various other local fauna for all sorts of ills, and now has decided the bears are getting into the act.

If anyone happens to see a bear on a 2009 Honda CRF450X, please let us know.

Recipe For...

2010-12-01T08:29:00.000-08:00

As I made Declan's breakfast this morning, my random (especially in the morning) thought patterns led me to wonder if, when my kids are my age, I will critique myself as a mother the way I critique myself when I try a new recipe.

When I think of them, will I wish I had added a dash more of this, or a little less of that, kept them "in the oven" of our home a little bit longer?

Most of the time when I try a new recipe, it comes out fine, but there is usually at least one component that I want to improve on the next time. Or I'm just more confident in that specific process, and I know that because of my experience, I'll get better results the second time around.

Each child is obviously a different recipe, but I wonder how Declan will be different from Greer and Calum, based on the experience level of the cook/mother. I have been so much more comfortable as a mother the third time around (I have thoughts on that, too, but that's another post.), and I wonder if that's because I've tried a similar recipe before. In fact, if you've seen my first two recipes, you might say Calum is identical.

I hope that when all three of my children are done "cooking", there will only be minor tweaks I wish I'd made.

November 27, 28, 29 and 30 Blessings:
Ok, so I dropped the ball a bit as far as posting things I'm thankful for, towards the end of the month. However, I've noticed that I think of my blessings far more often and more, well, gratefully, than before this exercise began. So, at the risk of sounding a bit redundant, I'm grateful that I'm more grateful.

26

2010-11-27T02:24:00.000-08:00

November 26 Blessing:
We spent Thanksgiving Skyping with my family. (Even with a few technical issues, it still felt good to hear everyone talking at the same time, as usual.) We were able to see our new niece Magnolia, who lives all the way in Philadelphia, with her parents, naturally. We also chatted with my dad and stepmom in Denver, so they could see how enormous Calum has grown, and how Greer can cross her eyes, and how Declan is practically a man now.

Then tonight, I took pictures with my cell phone (which is a miraculous invention in and of itself), and instantly posted them on Facebook so that my family could see them.

I know some people complain about society's need to be constantly connected, and how texting and the Internet are ruining interpersonal communication. I know that these amazing and now integral parts of our lives can be abused and detrimental.

However, I am grateful for these technological innovations. They help me stay connected to the people I love the most.

Thanksgiving Day

2010-11-25T13:04:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving Day Blessing:
Today I am grateful for who I am, for who I love, for where I am, for how I live my life, for what I know to be true, and for those who make all of those things possible.

I'm going to leave it at that. Pure and simple. When a life is blessed as completely as mine, there aren't enough words to express your gratitude.

24

2010-11-25T12:58:00.000-08:00

November 24 Blessing:
There is a huge mound of fire wood and kindling in the wood box. I have lists of groceries, menus, the order I need to cook things, recipes. There are rolls rising, cornbread baking, turkey brining. There will be cranberry sauce and a French apple pie before the day is out. Movie showtimes have been researched. Movie marathons on TV have been compared and DVRed. By the time I go to bed, my kitchen will be full of food.

I am grateful for preparation.

22 and 23

2010-11-24T11:17:00.000-08:00

November 22 Blessing:

Today, I am grateful that my brothers and sister-in-law work for Urban Outfitters. The reason for my gratitude comes in the form of a small olive green card, which allows me to buy things from Urban Outfitters, Free People and most gloriously, Anthropologie, at a discount. I am most grateful for this during the several times a year when, because of that little green card and because this comapny appreciates their employees (and sisters of employees), I can buy adorable things like this for 40% off.

Today, I am grateful that my family shares the wealth.

November 23 Blessing:

So remember Blessing 18, about Andrea? Well, she and her husband drove all the way from Simi Valley in the middle of their family Thanksgiving visit, just to spend a day with us. And of course we ate great food, and continued the traditional Super Mario Bros. Wii tournament, and just basked in each other's company. Well, Paul and Justin and Declan played Wii, and Andrea and Greer and I basked in each other's company. We all ate the great food.

Today, I am grateful for real friends. Thanks for coming, guys. It was awesome.

21

2010-11-22T07:30:00.000-08:00

November 21 Blessing:
Today, with a houseful of sick kids, I am grateful for medical technology. I'am grateful for the nebulizer which enables us to give Greer a breathing treatment right in our living room. I'm grateful for liquid albuterol, which opened up her airways and allowed to to breathe easily, instead of using her entire body to take each breath.
I'm grateful for ibuprofen, and that I can give my kids a little cupful of something that miraculously makes their fevers go away. I'm sure there were a lot of mothers before me who wished for just such a magic sip, and never got it.

I'm grateful for medicine today. I am absolutely not grateful for germs.

19 and 20

2010-11-20T17:20:00.000-08:00

November 19 and 20 Blessings:
My brother Chris and his wife Melissa became parents today, after a 3 day marathon labor and eventual c-section. The text messages have been flying thick and fast between Aptos and Philadelphia, and I'm sure between Philadelphia and various other points west, as we waited for the little lady to make her debut. I am so excited for this little family, and so glad Magnolia has finally joined us.

And then, in other baby-related news, Calum will be six months old tomorrow, and I can't figure out how half a year went by while I wasn't looking. I was telling Calum the other day how much I looked forward to seeing him crawl and walk and talk and have teeth, but how sad I would be at each of these stages, because he is my last baby. He just smiled and waved his arms at me.

There have been 10 babies born to Justin's and my collective families since last Thanksgiving. The Hambly's have gained: Maverick, Nixon, Malloy, Calum and Asher, and very possibly a couple I don't know about. That's five new boys for a family that has been fairly girl-heavy. My side has gained: Sawyer, Elle, Calum, Jack, Scarlett and now Magnolia. Four of those babies belong to me or my siblings; it's been a big year for Grandma Les and Grandpa Jon. I think that's all for this year. (Calum figures twice, I know. He may look all Woodhead, but there's Hambly in there somewhere.)

There is no high like seeing your baby for the first time. There is nothing more beautiful than that sweet, pure, trusting face in repose. There is nothing that warms the heart like the grip of those tiny fingers. There is nothing more important in this world than loving and cherishing these amazing gifts we, as parents, are given for so short a time.

I am grateful for babies.

The Family and Pancakes, Tied.

2010-11-18T19:58:00.000-08:00

Greer is writing a song on her miniature pink piano. The lyrics of this song consist largely of the phrase "I love you" and the names of our family members, repeated seventy or eighty times in various combinations.

Then she threw in a twist. It went something like this:

"I love you I love you I love you Daddy and Declan and Calum I love you I love you Mommy and Calum I love you Declan I love you Daddy and Calum and Mommy and Declan I love you Daddy and pancakes."

Pancakes?! Who knew breakfast rated so high in Greer's universe?

November 18 Blessing:
Andrea. It's her birthday today. Our friendship began when we were 3. I intend for it to continue until we are 103. She's quite possibly the best friend anyone could have, or wish they had. The only thing wrong with her is that she lives in New York City. Well, actually, this is awesome, because I love New York City, and while Andrea lives there I get to do two of my favorite things: hang out with Andrea, and go to New York City. I guess the only thing that is wrong with her is that she continues to live in NYC while I continue to live in California. She loves bacon and chocolate and she always emails me links to websites that have delectably cute Greer clothes and home furnishings and sinful recipes and great restaurants. And then, on top of that, she's beautiful and patient and gloriously silly and a spiritual giant and loves books as much as I do (which I think is nearly impossible) and she, like my sister, is the possessor of fabulous shoes.

Come visit me, Andrea! We'll eat browned butter ice cream and cheese burgers in San Francisco. Promise.

16 and 17

2010-11-17T17:58:00.000-08:00

November 16 Blessing:
I ate a brownie today (Tuesday). I didn't go off my diet, either. I made it with coconut flour and fake sugar. And sugar-free dark chocolate sauce. It was good as far as low-carb baked goods go. It was glorious to feel that crumbly, spongy texture in my mouth again.

Today, I am grateful for alternatives.

November 17 Blessing:
I went to Beverly's this morning. I try not to got here too often, because it dazzles me, and I come home with...IDEAS. Today, however, I had a list and a purpose, and I very admirably and uncharacteristically stuck to my list. I still departed with IDEAS.

Fortunately, these IDEAS relate to a large box containing a Felicity-sized unfinished table and chairs, which arrived yesterday.

Today, I am grateful for creativity.

(Photos to follow. I can only work when Greer is at school or asleep, so it might take a few days. I'm hoping the finished product will be worth the wait.)

15 (and 22!)

2010-11-15T17:19:00.000-08:00

November 15 Blessing:

Today, I am grateful for this....woman. She is 22 years old today. I can't believe so much time has passed since the night my dad called from the hospital to tell me I had a SISTER! Finally! There have been few happier moments in my life.

She is beautiful, obviously, intelligent, educated, well-traveled, kind, generous, stylish, athletic. Besides my mom, she is the only person in the world who completely gets my sense of humor. She cuts her own hair disgustingly well. She always has the most fantastic shoes, and she can mis-match her clothing like no one else.

I have a lot of amazing sister-in-laws, but she is my only sister. Love you, Liz!

Playing Catch-Up

2010-11-15T17:09:00.000-08:00

I'm a bit behind on posting my November blessings, but I have been thinking about them. Let's get caught up now.

November 12 Blessing:
Perfectly happy moments. We went and saw Megamind on Friday night. As the movie began, I looked down the row at Declan, Greer and Justin. Calum was asleep in my lap.

And I felt it. That frisson, that buzz, that tingly warm instant when God's in his heaven and all's right with the world.

November 13 Blessing:

Saturday was my Grandma's birthday. She was my dad's mom, and she would have been 90 years old. She died while I was pregnant with Greer. Oh, how I wish she and my kids could have known each other. I wish I could have known her as an adult. I'm sure she would have been just as amazing as when I was a little girl.

We called her Grandma Cato, because when we were little, she had a cat by that name. She loved things to be pretty, she believed in fairies, she always had Snickers in the freezer, Oreos and Haribo gummy bears, she always made my grandpa take us to McDonald's on White Oak and Ventura Blvd in Encino. She had the coolest house and a pool and a tree house and a stand of bamboo where we (the cousins) played all sorts of things. She did Christmas better than anyone I've ever known. In fact, she did any occasion better than just about anyone.

Happy birthday, Grandma! I love you!

November 14 Blessing:

We had some friends over for Sunday dinner, and the house was actually clean before they arrived. I was grateful for that, but the thing I really appreciated was that I knew the house would still be clean when I got up in the morning. Nothing like waking up to a clean living room to start the day off right!

My November 15 Blessing gets her own post, so scroll back up!

11

2010-11-11T20:47:00.000-08:00

November 11 Blessing:

Today is Veteran's Day. Today, and everyday, I am grateful for the cause of freedom, and for men and women around the world who have fought or died for the preservation of that ideal.

This powder horn was carved by my ancestor, Bela Burrill while he was a soldier in the Revolutionary War. He fought for freedom. He is one of many brave soldiers who would have spilled their blood for the country they loved, and whose blood runs in my veins.

I cannot think of the form life in America would take without the constant and willing vigilance and sacrifice of our Armed Forces, and our Allies.

With all my heart, thank you.

10

2010-11-11T12:02:00.000-08:00

November 10 Blessing:
I am grateful for laughter. The sound, the physical sensation, the mental reaction, the magic of it.

The sound of my kids laughing together is better than the most beautiful music.

Forks

2010-11-09T18:33:00.000-08:00

*Disclaimer: This post may contain opinions which some of you, my gentle readers, might find offensive. Of course, some of you will find these opinions hilarious.

I dropped Greer off at preschool the other day. The sign-in sheet was being signed by two other moms, so I stood back to wait while they chatted and put away various bits of kid paraphernalia and eventually got to the signing in part.

(Incidentally, I hate waiting in line for the sign-in sheet. Tuesday is the one morning a week when I get all three hours of preschool with only one child, and I don't want to waste a single second. On the morning in question, I almost grabbed the pen from woman's hand and hip checked her out of the way. Moving on.)

As I waited, and counted seconds, I overheard the conversation of the two moms. And I about died.

Mom One: Well, I went to Forks last summer, and I would LOVE to go back again before the next movie comes out.

Mom Two: Oh, I haven't seen the second movie because I wanted to read all the books first. I just LOVE the books. How did you get to Forks?

Mom One: We drove. I went with (insert several people who accompanied Mom One on her pilgrimage).

Mom Two: You drove? Wow! How long did that take?

Mom One then proceeds to give a detailed travel itinerary, as I nearly pull a muscle in my face trying not to smirk at them. Do they not realize that other adults can hear them and might know what they're talking about?!

Now, I enjoyed the Twilight Saga. I really did. It was fun reading. And I can understand the uproarious teenage obsession. I lived through both New Kids On The Block and N'Sync/Backstreet Boys.

The thing that really boggles me is that these are grown women. Grown as in, probably ten years older than me. As in, if not forty then knocking hard on the door. And they went there. To a tiny town in Washington State that is the setting for a fictional novel about characters who are also fictional, let alone largely mythological. They actually spent money, to drive from Aptos, California to Forks, Washington.

It was all I could do not to exclaim, with the utmost incredulity, "Seriously?! You went to Forks? And you were accompanied by other Forks-pilgrims? And not only that but you have a desire to return to Forks?"

Wow.

Trekkies and Jedis and Matrix-people, beware. There are new geeks in town.

9

2010-11-09T08:44:00.000-08:00

November 9 Blessing:
It was 40 degrees outside when I took Declan to school this morning. Our house is not the best-insulated building on earth, so it was probably close to that temperature inside, too.

I built a fire in our wood-burning stove, and realized how grateful I am to have the wherewithal to make myself and my family warm. Of course, I couldn't have done it with out Justin, who moved a whole cord of firewood up the Himalayan altitude of our driveway.

So I guess I'm grateful for him again, too. And his new truck.

8

2010-11-09T08:39:00.000-08:00

November 8 Blessing:

I am part of the handbell choir at church. (I have very generously not joined the vocal choir. What comes out of my mouth when I sing probably shouldn't be classified as music.) I played saxophone in junior high and high school. I directed the music for Primary (our church's children's program) for three years.

I love hearing Justin play guitar, and hearing Declan play piano. I love that my dad and all of my brothers play guitar. I love that my step-brother the black belt has started playing the sax. I love to listen when Justin records at our house. (But only for a little while. Eventually you hear those songs so often, they're stuck in your head for days.)

Music. Can't live without it, wouldn't even want to try.

7

2010-11-07T21:38:00.000-08:00

November 7 Blessing:
I am thankful for my happy life.

I have a happy marriage, happy children, and a happy future. I don't take that for granted. All of this happiness is the result of conscious choices and a whole lot of effort.

I work pretty darn hard for my fairy tale, and I love every minute of it.

6

2010-11-07T21:31:00.000-08:00

November 6 Blessing:
I am grateful for my Heavenly Father, and His son, Jesus Christ.

Abraham Lincoln said once that all he was or ever hoped to be was because of his mother.

All that I am, or ever hope to be, is through the boundless love of Jesus Christ, and through him my Heavenly Father.

And my mother. She's pretty great, too.

5

2010-11-05T20:46:00.000-07:00

November Fifth Blessing:
I am thankful that my body is healthy.

I have so many things that are probably more important for which to express my gratitude, but I have been so frustrated and down on myself recently because I don't like the way I look, because the weight isn't coming off like I want it to, because I am coming to terms with the unpleasant fact that I am one of those people who can't eat whatever she wants with no consequences.

And then I tell myself, "Jenn, you had a baby five months ago. A healthy, whole, beautiful baby, to go with the other two babies your body built from a few tiny cells. Stop taking those three miracles for granted."

And I also tell myself, "You are perfectly capable of exercising and changing the way you look. No one is getting in your way. Your legs are perfectly functional. Get your bum on the treadmill and shrink that bum down!"

And I also tell myself, "You don't need to eat cupcakes to be happy."

(I have a hard time convincing myself of that one.)

And finally, I tell myself what a huge blessing it is that I am perfectly healthy, and that the only impediment to reaching my goals is myself.

(I usually believe myself on that one.)

Giving Thanks in November

2010-11-04T22:54:00.000-07:00

I needed something to kickstart me back into blogging, and what better way to get going than to post about something I'm thankful for every day in November. I am not the only person with this goal, in fact I am completely jumping on the bandwagon with this and I am behind a few days.

November First Blessing: We moved to Aptos on November 1, 2005, so I will start with how thankful I am to live here, for Justin's business here, for our life here, and for how stunningly beautiful this place is. I usually don't want to live anywhere else, except when I see the price of real estate. Then Arizona doesn't look quite as hot.

Manresa State Beach, about two miles from our house

November Second Blessing:

This guy (the one with the beard):

November Third Blessing:

These three rascals:

November Fourth Blessing:

Jon, Bea, Leslie, Tony, Chris, Melissa, Niece as yet unnamed and unborn, James, Katie, Scarlett, Evan, Shannon, Hartlee, Sawyer, Liz (and Boris), Eric.

Kent, Ruth, Kevin, Mary, Quinn, Maura, Eric, Mary, Kate, Sarah, Matthew, Janelle, Steve, Kamdyn, Zoe, Peyton, Ryan, Megan, Reed, Asher (who I already refer to in my mind as Smasher).

Bill, Marg, Barbara, Ron, and a vast multitude of beloved aunts, uncles, cousins and in-laws.

Family. You know who you are.

Books

2010-11-04T22:15:00.000-07:00

Books I've read recently and loved:

These Is My Words, Sarah's Quilt and The Star Garden, all by Nancy Turner
The Hundred-Foot Journey, by Richard C. Morais
The Strain, Volumes 1 and 2, by Chuck Hogan and Guillermo Del Toro (Volume 3 comes out in March!)
Under the Dome, by Stephen King (This one loses points for language and adult content, but the story was very interesting)
The Tower, The Zoo and the Tortoise, by Julia Stuart
The Thorn Birds, by Colleen McCullough
The Forgotten Garden and The House at Riverton, both by Kate Morton (Her next book, The Distant Hours, comes out Nov. 9!)
The Secret Garden and The Lost Prince, both by Frances Hodgson Burnett
Freckles and A Girl of the Limberlost, both by Gene Stratton-Porter

Books I want to read:

Undine, by Friedrich de la Motte Fouque
Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature, by Alan Bradley
A Vintage Affair, by Isabel Wolff
The Remains of the Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro
Gilead and Home, both by Marilynne Robinson
The Tarzan Series, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot (What a delightful last name the author has!)
Cutting for Stone, by Abraham Verghese
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, by Jamie Ford
The Art of Racing in the Rain, by Garth Stein
Beatrice and Virgil, by Yann Martel (If you haven't read Life of Pi, do it now!)
Two From Galilee, by Marjorie Holmes

and of course,

Life, by Keith Richards

Happy Halloween (in November, I know...)

2010-11-04T21:58:00.000-07:00

Greer the Nurse, Calum the Glow-in-the-dark Skeleton, and Declan as Boba Fett the Bounty Hunter

Mean Girls

2010-11-04T21:54:00.000-07:00

I've been mulling this topic over for a good week, partly because it upset me so much, and partly because I wanted to see how the preschool drama played out.

On the way home from preschool the other day, Greer told me that a girl had called her some mean names during show and tell. She seemed more incredulous that anyone would behave in such a fashion, than really hurt by the girl's comments. I told her that the next time this happened, she needed to tell the person to stop and if they didn't stop, to tell a teacher what had happened.

Well, the very next morning, when I was helping in her class, she came to me and told me that two other girls had told her she was mean and stinky. This time, she was upset. I've watched her wanting to be included by these girls for weeks. (Editorial note: These two girls are very exclusively best friends, and don't play with any of the other kids.) Greer's awesome teacher happened to be sitting nearby and overheard my response, which was basically the same as the previous day, with the addition that people aren't always going to be nice.

Teacher Sharon then explained to us that a teacher had overheard the incident the day before, and had talked to the little girl and her parents. She also had a very caring talk with Greer and helped her to feel comfortable sticking up for herself.

So far there haven't been any repeat occurrences.

So that's the story. I am stunned. Greer is four and has been in preschool all of two months. I don't know whether to call these run-ins cases of full-fledged bullying, or just a little bit of marking territories. I never (that I can remember) bullied anyone, or intentionally hurt anyone's feelings, so I can't understand the thought or even the instinct behind this kind of behavior. And I always tried to fly under the radar or away from it, in order to avoid being on the receiving end, so I had a bit of a hard time figuring out what to tell Greer to do.

It felt wrong telling my daughter to just ignore these girls and their comments, or to go away and play with someone else, or to stop trying to play with them if they didn't want to play with her. I realized that I wanted her to learn to stand up for herself, to not accept the inappropriate and unkind behavior of others. She needs to know that she doesn't deserve that poor treatment, and she needs to know how to deflect it.

The next time she was at school with the first little girl, Greer told the girl she had to be nice to her, and the little girl has been nice ever since. I think Greer as just given up on the other two.

Being a mother is hard, and being the mother of a girl is even harder.

I've never gone through anything like this with Declan.

Seven Layer Brownie Bars, for Miriam, who is in dire need...

2010-10-18T16:25:00.000-07:00

1 stick of butter, melted
1 box of Ghirardelli Double Chocolate brownie mix
1 cup of each of the following:
chocolate chips
peanut butter chips
caramel candies, quartered
broken-up pretzel sticks
1 14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk

Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Spread the melted butter over the bottom and halfway up the sides of a 9x13 pan. Sprinkle the brownie mix over the butter. Layer on the caramels, chocolate chips, peanut butter chips and pretzel sticks. Drizzle the entire can of sweetened condensed milk over the top. Bake for 30-35 minutes or until the sides are good and bubbly. Let the pan cool completely before cutting. It can be difficult to wait that long, trust me.

The original Seven Layer Brownie Bar recipe is on the back of the Ghirardelli Double Chocolate brownie mix box. It's good. Really good. But these are Jenn-ified.

Inventory

2010-10-17T21:32:00.000-07:00

In the last week, I have made the following:

1 Mary Beth's Cake shaped like a donut, with chocolate glaze and sprinkles (Declan's birthday cake)
30 chocolate cupcakes with chocolate truffle frosting and maraschino cherries (for Declan's class, for his birthday)
1 9x13 pan of 7 Layer Brownie Bars (butter, brownie mix, chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, caramels, pretzel pieces and sweetened condensed milk, for the Harvest Festival at Declan's school)
1 more Mary Beth's Cake, with powdered sugar (also for the Harvest Festival)
10 chocolate chip buttermilk pancakes (for dinner tonight)
1 8x8 pan of regular brownies (for dessert tonight)

In the last week, I have eaten:

None of them.

I either have the strongest will power on the planet, or there is something seriously wrong with me.

The 7 Layer Brownie Bars did cause a major moment of weakness. Or two. Or seven.

Happy Birthday, Declan

2010-10-13T13:50:00.000-07:00

Monday was Declan's birthday. He turned seven, which is heartbreaking and mind-boggling.

We took him to Nirvana, known in seven-year-old boy parlance as "The Lego Store". He was thrilled. Especially when we told him to start picking stuff out, which he did, with abandon and wonderment.

At the Lego Store/Nirvana, there was a little station where you could create a three-pack of your own personalized Lego people. Declan made a beeline straight for it.

On the way home, I overheard him talking on the phone to my mom, explaining to her what three people he had created.

"...I made a miner and a skull pirate (I think this means skeleton pirate) and..."

Wait for it....

"...an evil butler."

How can you not love a kid who creates an Evil Butler at the Lego Store?

Happy birthday, D. I couldn't ask for a better kid.

BFF

2010-10-07T07:38:00.000-07:00

I used to have this really, really close friend. We saw each at all hours of the day or night. There was nothing I enjoyed more than being in the company of this friend.

And then.

I had a third child, and basically, this friend deserted me. Or maybe I deserted this friend. Either way, we spend so much less time together now.

No hard feelings of course. Mostly I just wish we could resume our former close relationship.

Who is this dear, sundered companion of mine, you ask?

Why, Sleep. Of course.

I Can Eat Bacon!

2010-09-25T11:55:00.000-07:00

So Justin and I started following the Atkins (low-carb) diet this week. I've lost 10.5 pounds since Monday.

I feel great, and I haven't hallucinated about bread or candy since Wednesday. So that's good.

Also, I can eat full-fat, non-diet-y cheese! And bacon! What?!

Who knew weight loss and pork products could co-exist so joyfully together?

Death by...?

2010-09-14T13:42:00.000-07:00

This lovely sunny morning, Justin and I drove up into the Santa Cruz Mountains, to Boulder Creek, so Justin could do a home inspection for one of his clients.

It was during this expedition that I discovered the purest form of torture.

It began when we were steered onto a detour by a man wearing a fluorescent orange vest and madly waving a stop sign. It is pertintent to note that detours in the mountains often involve routes that are narrow, heavily forrested and extremely winding, dotted with scary Deliverance-style hippie cabins. This detour fit that bill precisely. This is going to be BAD, I thought.

The torture began as we wound along this detour, flashing strobe-like in and out of the bright sun-light. Car-sickness. My lifelong nemesis.

We finally left the detour for a larger highway, and the second phase of the "Is this really happening to me right now" pain began. A full bladder. No big deal, right? Yeah, no big deal if you're in Aptos or Santa Cruz or even down at the bottom of the mountains, anywhere near civilization. No big deal if you've never birthed a child, let alone three, and one of those quite recently. No problem at all if these two elements don't combine fiendishly with your car-sickenss against your very existence.

Did I mention how bumpy these roads are?

We left the nice, smoothly paved highway for yet another backwoods-creepy road and were fortunately spit out right at our destination. By this time, I was so grateful to stop moving, I just sat in the car with my head back and my eyes closed, breathing deeply while Justin did his inspection. Just when the world stopped spinning, Justin finished his business and the fun began again.

Back up Backwoods-Creepy Road to Nice Smooth Highway. Justin is also experiencing the anxiety of a full bladder. About halfway down the mountain, as I sit totally rigid, trying to cushion every bump and curve of the road, Justin pulls over, hops out of the Superburban and says, "I'm sorry, I just can't make it."

Nice. Why do men have all the luck?

As we near the bottom of the mountain, Nice Smooth Highway cruelly morphs in to a second dose of Backwoods-Creepy Road, and I struggle not to lose my mind, among other things, as Justin seemingly causes our vehicle to sprout wings and fly downhill. I'm pretty willing to die. Anything would be better than this.

When we pull up in front of the Safeway in Felton, a town which by now has never looked more like paradise, I am in such dire straits that I can't even walk normally into the store. An employee sees my painstricken and panicked face and immediately points me to the restroom. As I hobble towards my Shangri-La, I observe to myself how angellically nice the employees of this Safeway are.

When I get back into the car, I just smile blissfully. It's a beautiful thing, not feeling like your head, stomach or bladder are going to explode.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way Home From Church...

2010-09-12T18:10:00.000-07:00

Today the kids and I drove home from church "the no freeway way", which means a road through a beautiful valley of redwoods and green hills and really expensive homes. We have had several memorable experiences while driving down this road, such as the RAC (Random Aptos Camel), who used to live here, or the buck that looked like Declan's cousin Bingo (who resembled various animals during his sojourn with our family, but who, sadly, appears to have flown south permanently).

This road just seems to inspire Declan to greatness. Here is today's pearl:

Declan: Mom, can we watch a movie when we get home?

Me: Sure, buddy, that would be fine.

Declan, sounding very relieved: Oh good, because cartoons are totally over-rated for me right now.

Right now, as I type this, he is sitting on the living room rug, legs crossed in the position formerly known as Indian-style, hands upturned on knees, thumbs and middle fingers touching, meditating. And chanting. Or, well, mumbling something. He says they learned this during their yoga course in PE at school.

Classic.

Eureka!

2010-09-08T15:33:00.000-07:00

I found my perfect property yesterday.

It is not exorbitantly expensive.

It has an old farmhouse with a luxurious three bedrooms.

It is in the country and out of the fog belt, but still within our ward boundaries (so we would still be part of the same church congregation).

It does not have a huge steep scary driveway.

And finally, and most perfectly, it has almost 12 acres.

This is perfect because Justin can have a motorcycle track; because the kids can have tons of space to run and play and hike and camp; because I can have a garden and apple trees and chickens (maybe!) and lavender fields and beehives; because we can remodel the old farmhouse into our home.

Home as in putting down roots and never having to move again and not renting anymore and having a place where our kids will bring their kids someday.

That kind of home, and that kind of perfect.

Finally!

2010-09-07T15:32:00.000-07:00

Today was a long-awaited day in our house. Like, since January, which to Greer is so long ago it might as well have never happened.

She started preschool today.

She got to wear her new school clothes and carry a snack in her new Disney Princesses lunchbox and bring her favorite stuffed animal, a Webkinz armadillo named Rainbow.

She got up when Declan did, at 7 a.m., and asked me every five minutes thereafter if it was time to go to school yet.

When we finally did get there, I could tell she was equal parts excited and nervous. Greer is familiar with this preschool because Declan went there, but she still doesn't know what to do or who anyone is. She asked me to stay with her. I showed her her cubby, and introduced her to Teacher Sharon.

Then I kissed her, told her I loved her and left her making a name tag with her teacher.

She can't stop talking about all of the things "they have there".

Did I mention how heart-squeezingly and adorably grown-up she looked?

Greer's First Day of Preschool, Sept. 7, 2010

Three Gems

2010-09-02T17:41:00.000-07:00

Gem#1
"This is what a werewolf looks like when it's about to claw your eyes out."

Gem#2

Declan: Mom, would you like it if I became an inventor?

Me: Sure, Declan, that would be really cool.

Declan: A teleporter wouldn’t work. That’s pure science-fiction.

Me: struggling not to laugh as I sit down immediately to record this statement verbatim.

Gem#3

Declan: Mom, suddenly I feel like I have superpowers. Like later, in the future. Yeah, like as Imagination Boy.

That's my boy.

Out of Date and I Like It

2010-08-27T23:08:00.000-07:00

Recently, I was told that, due to what this person presumed were my views on same-sex marriage, I was “'married’ to an outdated religion”.

At first, I was hurt and offended. I shook, I cried, I wondered why someone would feel the need to get personal to the point of mocking another’s deeply held beliefs, all because of two differing points of view.

And then I thought about what this person had said, and I realized that the assertion was at once absolutely correct and hopelessly flawed.

Correct, because in the eyes of the majority of society, my beliefs and the way I live my life are completely old-fashioned. I (and other Mormons) do not partake in or even agree with many social mores which are considered acceptable and even necessary.

I believe that while a husband and wife are equal partners in a marriage, each has specific roles in the marriage and family spheres which are, in fact, based on gender.

I believe that sexual relationships should be reserved for a husband and wife, and that people should not live together before marriage.

I believe that procreation is a powerful and sacred gift given to us by our Heavenly Father as part of a plan that exists into the eternities, and that the children who result from this gift deserve a mother and a father who love them and each other.

I believe that abortion is wrong and that women should make the choice to be responsible for what they do with their bodies and the capabilities thereof.(Obviously sometimes the choice is cruelly made for them.)

I believe in absolute marital fidelity.

I believe that the family is the basic and most meaningful unit of society, and that it is deserving of the utmost protection and preservation.

I believe in abstaining from the consumption of alcohol, coffee and non-herbal tea, and the use of tobacco and recreational drugs.

I believe that pornography is evil.

I believe that people should dress modestly.

I believe that there is a God, and that He created this world, and that He has a purpose for it.

I believe that the God who created this world still speaks to mankind. I believe that there is a prophet on the earth who receives revelation from the Lord, just as the prophets did in biblical times.

I believe in being “honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous and in doing good to all men” (See The Articles of Faith, #13).

And finally, I believe that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is founded on and advocates principles that are eternal, unchanging, without beginning or end. This means that these beliefs of mine (and doctrines of the Church) will continue after the world we live in has passed away, and therefore, cannot be outdated. They are, in effect, dateless.

All that being said, I also believe that people are divinely endowed with the agency to choose for themselves. Ergo, I don’t make personal attacks when I disagree with someone, I don’t require others to agree with my thoughts, I don’t judge others based on their beliefs or lifestyles, and I look at and love all people as individuals and children of God; I expect others to extend the same courtesy to me.

Outdated, huh? Fine with me.

Taking Time

2010-08-23T21:37:00.000-07:00

I must never forget:

Driving home from Pismo in the almost night time, sunburned and footsore, singing Don McLean's "American Pie" with Justin, while the kids slept. This was a perfectly happy moment; the kind you imagine when you think of what you want your future family to be.

The heart-squeezing adorable-ness of Declan on his first day of second grade, with his new school clothes and his shining clean shoes, a haircut so fresh the untanned skin showed around the edges, big blue eyes excited and just the slightest bit nervous. How can he look so tall and grown-up and still so small and unsure?

Greer's beautiful face and crazy-mermaid hair, her tiny almost big-girl voice and how hard she tries to pronouce her "R"s and not lisp her "S"s all on her own, how much she loves to have me to herself and to tell me all the important goings-on in her life. She will be four in two weeks, and fourteen before I realize it, and my fondest hope is that she'll still love me then like she does today.

Looking down, mid-conversation, to see Calum's darling grin beaming up at me around his bottle, while he dribbles formula all over himself. He gets so thrilled to see me that his entire chubby little body wriggles. Sometimes his exuberance bubbles over so far he just has to squeal. And he does. And it brings tears to my eyes.

Me, realizing, during all of these moments, that I have taken just a second to savor the joy, to roll it around in my mouth like some rare chocolate, to seal it in my heart and carry the warm glow for the rest of the day.

I'm Still Here!

2010-08-10T08:46:00.000-07:00

I promised myself I would record my three child experience in all it's wild and wooliness. Well, the problem is that these days my hands are too full to actually sit down and type a post. Not full in the sense that I'm really busy and have a lot going on. Quite the opposite, really. I mean my hands are full of Calum pretty much all the time. It's difficult to type coherent English with a squirmy and sometimes irate three month old on your lap. Come to think of it, it's tough to have a coherent thought in English. And I hate typing one handed.
Anyway, I guess that's the truth of it, the reality of this phase of my life.
As I write this, I am lying in bed, with Calum asleep on my stomach, tapping this post out on my iPod Touch. Justin just rolled over and asked me what I'm doing.
I believe it's called being a mom.

Say aaah!

2010-07-30T12:53:00.000-07:00

Greer, looking up from playing with Calum: Mom! He opened his mouth and I saw his teeth hold-in-ers!

Honestly, I have never seen anyone more adorably excited about gums.

Not even a question?

2010-07-15T19:52:00.000-07:00

Tonight, after a long day with the mummies at the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum coupled with Justin scouting away at Scout Camp till Saturday, I made the kids their favorite speedy dinner: Chicken Nugget Kid Cuisine tv dinners. As I took Greer's tray out of the microwave, I realized I had neglected to put the chicken nuggets back in their little section to cook. On a positive note, however, the chocolate pudding had exploded all over the mac and cheese and the corn. Mmmm, chocolate-covered corn...yeah...no.

I digress. I berated myself for this mindless error thusly, "I am the dumbest person on the planet!"

Greer, standing in the kitchen waiting for her food like a ravening wolf, calmly answered, "Ever?"

Yes, darling dearest daughter of mine. Ever. (Can you feel the sarcasm radiating through your screen?) She didn't even question the possibility that I could in fact, be the dumbest person on the planet, just wanted to make sure of the chronology. Nice.

Incidentally, I am going to put the older two to bed before cooking my own dinner of vegetable fajita burritos, fresh guacamole and Hint of Lime Tostitos. After consumption of which, Calum and I shall retire to my room to watch a chick flick on streaming Netflix and munch a lot of Peanut Butter Oreos. What can I say, it's a bad time of the month for a diet/stress double whammy. (Sorry, gentlemen readers.)

Just to clarify...

2010-07-14T15:03:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Calum's awesome Uncle Ryan, Aunt Megan, cousin Reed and soon-to-be-born cousin Asher for helping us cut down on pronunciation faux pas.

Whirlwind

2010-06-29T14:49:00.000-07:00

Normally when I let myself think about death or dying, the image is one of age, of a person laying down a body of hard earned wrinkles and wisdom, a reward for a life well lived, a course finished, faith kept.

I do not allow myself to associate death with the new, the small, the rosy silken-skinned. That part of life is too close to me now; the horror of that loss is far too raw, too overwhelming.

I certainly never consider that the finality of mortality could possibly go hand in hand with the vitality and bright fresh expectancy of adolescence. We don't plan to lose someone when there is so much to look forward to.

And then, with a frisson of shock and a rush of tears, it happens. The knowledge that a beautiful smile, a whirl of color is stilled, comes unwelcome.

Time grinds on, and we with it, and the bittersweet part is knowing that a journey here has ended, that there is so much of a life left unlived. We are moving ahead, and yet we are left behind.

Death's sting for me is not that it is the end. Death is only difficult for the living, for the separated. Those who go before are in a place of pure love, of hurts healed and knowledge obtained. It is we who remain behind to muddle, to yearn, to experience, to progress.

I know that this family will be reunited one day, and that this mother will hold her daughter again, whole and blessed and joyous.

Leila, you are all in my prayers, and your darling Kiersten is in her Father's hands.

Three So Far

2010-06-17T19:52:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow I will have had three children for four weeks.

So far, it hasn't been as bad as I thought.

I promised myself before Calum was born that I would blog about the whole experience, warts and all. I truly expected that this would be the most trying experience of my life.

At this point, I can really only identify four small "warts". I shall elaborate:

First, and not surprisingly, I am EXHAUSTED. I seem to recall being able to nap more last time I did this whole newborn thing. Now, a nap is as enticing and non-existent as a mirage to a desert traveler. For a girl who really enjoys sleeping, life has taken a mild downturn. (That being said, Calum is a consistent and dedicated sleeper, and it could be a whole lot worse. In fact, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.)

Second, my hands are pretty much always full. Usually full of Calum, which is lovely but restrictive when Greer would like some lunch and Declan wants me to play Wii with him, or when I am so hungry that if I don't eat my body will shrivel in on itself and disappear. I look forward to being able to eat with two hands and to being able to take long showers again.

Third, I completely forgot how much laundry a baby generates. Burp cloths, jammies, towels, blankets. Laundry was a neverending project for me before Calum was here, and now sometimes I think I just might be submerged in a wave of Gain-scented clothing.

Fourth and most difficult, because I have my hands literally full all the time, Declan and Greer don't get the attention to which they are accustomed. Their needs are still met and they are still fed, clothed, bathed and loved; it's just on a longer timetable now. I think they are beginning to understand (maybe!) that they just have to wait a little longer for whatever they are asking for. And I am beginning to feel a little less impatient with "the big kids" as I realize why they are behaving the way they are. I still sometimes feel like the vultures are hovering over me as I struggle out of the quicksand, but at least now there is a foothold under the sand somewhere. (Is it bad to compare your children to vultures?)

In the blessing I received the night before Calum was born, I was told that I would be surprised how easily I would be able to accomplish my duties in our home, and that the way would be smooth for me in this new time in my life.

I am astounded, and the way has been glassy smooth.

I could not be more grateful.

Quack Quack

2010-06-06T22:22:00.000-07:00

Just a small update...

I did allow Declan/Duckland to go to the party. The kid's mom still called him Duckland. The kid's dad, with whom I spoke after leaving a strongly enunciated voicemail, called him Declan. (The dad's name is Arnett, so maybe he's a little more sensitive to unusual names.)

Also, if you are giving a party at the beach on the last day of school, it would be wise to specify on the invitation that said party is, in actuality, a birthday celebration. Otherwise no one will bring your kid a birthday gift. And some moms won't even feel bad about that. At all.

Just a tip.

Also, speaking of names, Greer has decided to call Calum "Tiny tiny short man". I sincerely hope Calum does not develop a complex.

A Declan By Any Other Name...

2010-06-01T14:07:00.000-07:00

My kids have unusual names. On purpose. There were six, yes, six Jennifers in my kindergarten class, and I went through elementary school with a W permanently attached to the end of my name.

When our first child was born, Justin and I knew we wanted to give our baby a name that was unique, but not too out there, and that didn't sound like we were trying too hard. This trend has continued through the births of two more children.

I have become resigned to the fact that people are going to grossly mispronounce my kids' names, even though we have spelled them as simply and phonetically as possible. Greer is the least mistaken, probably because even if you tried, there isn't much you can do to mess it up. Declan and now Calum, on the other hand, get all sorts of permutations. DEE-clan, De-CLAN, De-CLAIN, DECK-land, CAY-lum, Cal-OOM.

Ok, repeat after me: DECK-lan and CAL-um.

Well, I thought I had experienced them all, until my son came home from school with this:

Yes, that says Duckland. DUCKLAND. Seriously?

This envelope contained a beach party invitation, and I almost can't allow him to go, just on principle. How can I allow my son to associate with people who could possibly, maybe have an inkling of a thought that I, or anyone, could name a child "Duckland"?

I called to RSVP, and had to resist the urge to spell Declan's name out several times, with great clarity and enunciation, on their answering machine.

Duckland. Really?

Calum, The Whole Wide World...Whole Wide World, Calum

2010-05-26T11:57:00.001-07:00

Calum Tierney Hambly
May 21, 2010
8 lbs 13 oz
20 inches

"The best days are when babies come."
-Melanie Wilkes, Gone With The Wind

Recent Favorites

2010-05-14T20:18:00.000-07:00

In no particular order:

*Baskin-Robbins Pink Bubble Gum ice cream
*Justin
*The unbelieveable strawberries sold out of the back of The Strawberry Man's truck
*The end of Seminary (forever!)
*The X-Files on streaming Netflix
*My Kindle
*Vanilla Caramel Drumsticks
*Declan
*Parenthood (the TV show)
*Declan and Greer's excitement about Calum
*Warm weather (well, warmer weather)
*Haribo Gummy Raspberries
*Fantastic Mr. Fox
*Greer
*Having lots of teeny, tiny boy stuff around
*Having only one week left until all that teeny, tiny stuff gets used
*Greer helping me with all the housework, willingly and enthusiastically
*The General Conference issue of the Ensign magazine
*New floor mats for the Superburban
*Declan telling me to "get some rest" in the afternoon
*Greer snuggling with me while I get some rest in the morning
*Knowing it's only 7 weeks until I can go running again
*Online window shopping for normal (non-maternity) clothes
*Lectures on Faith, by Joseph Smith (on my Kindle, of course)
*Bare Minerals
*An organized house (not the actual organizing, just the finished product)
*Hearing Declan and Greer say family prayers
*U2 tickets
*Calum (did I mention 7 more days?)

I think that's pretty good for the moment...

The Storm Before the Calm

2010-05-11T16:16:00.000-07:00

Last night, with the enforced slave labor of Declan and Greer, I hauled a mountain of spanking new baby stuff in from the car. My bed quickly disappeared under the onslaught, and I set about distributing.

We had almost everything put away, and I started putting diapers (teeny, tiny ones) in the diaper bag I made myself a few weeks ago.

And then it hit me. This strange sense of surreal not-quite-panic. As in, all of this stuff has a purpose, and that purpose is a major, life-altering event. And it's happening very soon. And it's largely going to be my responsibility. Oh goody, more responsibility.

I know the second I see Calum, all the panic and unreality will vanish. I know, and am addicted to, the feeling of the switch flipping on, and the ferocity of newborn baby-love. It's my favorite emotional high. I know when I get home from the hospital, there will be no question that he's supposed to be here, in our home, in our family.

I know I'm going to feel this, and that mommy mode will kick in, and all my rustiness will melt away. I know it with my head, but right now the rest of me is on the verge of a mild freakout.

First of all, in order to get to the baby bliss, the baby must be removed, in invasive fashion, from my body. While I will be completely numb during this part of the journey, still it isn't my favorite way to spend a morning. And later, it will hurt. Even though this is my third C-section, and I know what to expect and I have a great doctor, nobody looks forward to that kind of surgery; just the outcome.

Next, this is the first time Justin and I will be outnumbered. I'm a bit apprehensive about that. Not so much that I won't be able to care for the physical needs of three kids, although that is a factor, but that everyone will get the emotional attention they deserve. Especially in the next few weeks when I am the Mommy-Zombie. If I'm inhumanly tired now, I can't imagine what I'll be like with a newborn.

Lastly, in these final few humongous days of what I intend to be my last pregnancy, I am thinking more about not being pregnant than about the outcome of my post-natalness. (yeah, I'm pretty sure I made that word up.)I'm pretty sure most women experience this on some level, but basically all I can think about is wearing clothes that fit, taking a full deep breath, sleeping on my back and going for a nice, long run. And then I remember that oh, yeah, I'm also bringing a child into the world, which is infinitely more important and lasting and beautiful than any of those other things. (Although right now sleeping on my back is looking dang important, let me tell you.) Once again, this is one of those guilty little worries that I'm sure will be swept away by the sight of Calum's face, but it adds just a little edge to the frazzle going on in the back of my mind.

There are other factors, like our tiny house and where we're going to physically put another person and all the attendant stuff this small and helpless person requires, and losing the baby weight and getting through the summer with two bored older kids, ad nauseum.

Everything will be fine, I tell myself. The hormones will calm down, the doctor will prescribe painkillers, and prayers are always answered.

Can I just fast forward to next Friday, please?

Greer's Feet or, A Pregnancy Casualty

2010-05-03T20:16:00.000-07:00

Today, Greer and I went to my usual Monday morning doctor's appointment. I only have two more appointments before Calum comes and and changes our world, and I honestly don't know what Greer will do. Not about Calum, but about life without doctor's appointments. She LOVES going with me. The nurse lets her enter my information in the computer, and listen to my blood pressure, and even order labs once in a while. My doctor, who delivered Greer, lets her measure my gargantuan torpedo belly and find Calum's heartbeat with the Doppler. Pretty much, for about 30 minutes, Greer is in cute little helper heaven.

Today, I asked her to get her shoes from her room and put them on in my room while I was doing my hair. She has a bit of difficulty with putting the proper shoe on the proper foot, and I supervised absently from the bathroom as she was getting them on. Everything looked fine from my preoccupied and quite honestly brain-dead point of view.

We walked out the door. I had shoes on, she had shoes on, we're good to go.

As we drove down the freeway, she asked me if her shoes were on the right feet, again. I glanced back quickly, saw that the left shoe was on the left foot and told her they were fine. Then I glanced back again and noticed that the shoe on her right foot was buckled on the left side, rather than the right. Not trusting my pregnant and therefore slightly delusional eyesight, I hazarded just one more glance.

No, that right shoe was buckled on the left side. Weird. If she had the left shoe on the left foot, what was wrong with this picture? I actually devoted a couple of minutes to puzzling this out. I made Greer take off the offending right shoe and tell me what size it was. When she said it was an 8, I realized that she was wearing last summer's identical left sandal, in a smaller size, on her right foot. She had the current left sandal, in the correct size, on her left foot.

Greer, being my child, was seriously disturbed when I told her that she was just going to have to wear two left shoes to the appointment, because I didn't have a spare pair of shoes for her in the car. (I guess I could have put her in her tap shoes, but well, black patent leather did not match her shirt, and we must coordinate or die, of course.)

Fortunately, these were some cute little butterfly sandals, and nobody noticed that she had two left feet today. I made her take her shoes off the second we walked in the door.

Poor Greer. I really need to have this baby. I hope when Calum is born I'll regenerate a little of the mental capacity I've lost, because really, for the sake of my children at the very least, I can't go through the rest of my life feeling this foggy. Or dumb. Whichever adjective you'd like to apply.

Really, really bad...

2010-03-24T17:20:00.000-07:00

I am on blogging semi-hiatus until this new boy child arrives, but this little tidbit was far too weird not to share.

Remember my post about the boy in Greer's dance class? And his New Age hippie mom?

Well, Ballet Boy has a little sister, whose name escapes me. She must be close to two years old. We were at dance class today, and this is what I overheard:

Sister of Ballet Boy: Mom, I want the boob.

Mom of B.B.: No, you may not have the boob. You do not need the boob right now.

Sister of B.B.: Mom, I need the boob. Really bad. Reeeallly bad, Mom!

Mom of B.B.: No, you don't.

Sister of B.B.: Reeeeaaallly bad. Really, really.

This is disturbing to me on several levels. I shall elaborate.
Level 1: This little girl is old enough to be arguing with her mom about being breastfed. And that's a little creepy.
Level 2: She calls it "The Boob". In Sister of Ballet Boy's defense, so does her mother. Ew.
Level 3: This child is obviously deriving her major nourishment from other sources, and her mother is clearly reluctant. Can we just cut the kid off, please?!
Level 4: Even though Mom of Ballet Boy told her she didn't need the boob and couldn't have it, ten minutes later they plunked themselves down right beside yours truly and Sister of Ballet Boy got what she wanted. And we all saw a whole lot more of Mom of Ballet Boy than any of us wanted.

I had to laugh. Of course, it was amusement tinged with a little disgust and a pinch of "wow, that's messed up", but it was laughter, nonetheless.

Don't get me wrong, I think breastfeeding is great and natural and all of those good things it is purported to be. I just wish women would be a little more modest about The Boob.

All Apologies

2010-01-26T18:36:00.001-08:00

Wow, pregnant me and blogging are really just not compatible. At all.

I think it has to do with two things:
1. My inability to string together a coherent verbal sentence, most days, and
2. The absolute, exhausting, mind-numbing, totally unmotivating energy-drain who will soon be my third child. Pretty sure he will be less fatiguing when he is no longer sharing my body. I am so tired that even the idea of thinking about composing a blog post inspires me to crawl into bed and sleep for two or three hours.

How do women do this when they're 40? I think I would die.

So, sorry, blogging friends. Don't worry, you're not missing anything. At all. Except me, in my jammies, napping.

I shall return.

It's A Blue Day

2010-01-04T14:31:00.000-08:00

So it's been a while. And there has been quite a bit going on in the way of holidays and pregnancy and surgery and the like. I'll just sum it all up by saying all of those things went well and are now over. Except the pregnancy. And speaking of which, today was our 20-week ultrasound, or in other words, "Guess the Gender Day".

We arrived at the doctor's office split down the middle, with Justin and Greer advocating for the fairer sex, and Declan and I firmly convinced it would be a boy. I have been sure the whole time that it was a boy, and felt fairly confident because I had been right both times before. Nevertheless, I would have been thrilled either way.

It took about two seconds to determine that Declan and I had carried the day, and that Hambly #3 is indeed a BOY! His name is Calum Tierney Hambly and we can't wait for him to come on out and join the family. I have already bought him his first blanket and outfit, which has blue and yellow hedgehogs on it.

(Our girl name, incidentally, was Tatum Eleanor. I guess we liked "-um" names this time around. If anyone likes this name, feel free to use it. We're done. For sure.)

My Bouche Was NOT Amused

2009-11-17T18:09:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been to a nice French restaurant, been seated, and then been left completely alone for half an hour?

Have you ever, once your actual presence in said restaurant was acknowledged, been provided with a tiny shot glass of gazpacho, then had to wait ten to fifteen minutes between each of the following: water, a small roll and butter, and then a menu?

Have you ever had to wait twenty minutes after receiving your menu to have someone take your order? (From a menu which had a total of seven items on it: two starters, three main dishes and two desserts)

Have you then had to wait a further thirty minutes to receive your starter? (Which could either have been French onion soup or a small slice of foie gras with greens and cornbread, neither of which required any immediate cooking, just plating)

Have you ever had to wait for all of these things and ask a server three times for water, with absolutely no results?

Have you ever dined at a restaurant where the serving staff never once asked you how your meal was, or if you needed anything?

Have you ever sat listening to other diners in the restaurant complain about how long their meal was taking?

Have you ever seen you extremely non-confrontational mom accost the server, explain in kind but firm tones that you had been in this restaurant for two hours, and had just finished your starters, and that your party included a starving pregnant woman and a woman who wasn't feeling well, and that your party either needed to get the rest of the meal now, or it needed to leave now?

Have you ever had a server tell you he would check on the status of your main course, and then never come back?

(You're still waiting for your water glasses to be refilled.)

Have you ever walked out of a restaurant after spending two and a half hours waiting for your meal, after explaining to the head waiter that while he might have two of your party's three main courses in his hands, unfortunately, after waiting so long to eat, none of you were hungry anymore and that you didn't even want to see the rest of your meal, let alone have it boxed up to take home?

Have you ever been told after all of this that you would not be required to pay for a meal which would have cost $50 per person ($81 per person with wine) and told the head waiter basically "Dang skippy I'm not paying!"?

Well, my mom and sister and I have, at a restaurant called Amuse Bouche in Simi Valley, just this last Friday. It was the first time I have ever walked out of a restaurant without eating or paying. It was the worst dining experience of my life, and at least I got to share it with two women who share my sense of humor and the ridiculous.

I had a Payday for dinner that night, and it only took me two minutes to eat. It was delicious.

Greer vs. Jaws

2009-10-27T18:36:00.000-07:00

Lately Greer has taken to telling me stories that begin with "When I was a baby..." I can only assume this has been brought on by the impending arrival of Sleeping Beauty/Prince Phillip. (Incidentally, I have begun acclimating Greer to the idea that I am pretty sure this baby is a boy, and that she shouldn't be sad if it is. Granted, I will not know for sure till January, but I knew almost immediately with the first two.)

Anyway, today we were driving home from Target, and she began to spin yet another yarn. I love hearing about her exploits from when she was a baby. Apparently she was endowed with baby super-powers, because she performed acts that no infant on earth has ever had the capability to accomplish.

Today, however, took the cake.

"Mom, when I was a baby, I went swimming in our ocean at our beach and I got eaten by a shark."

Really. Apparently Baby Greer had amazing self-restorative powers as well, because I have never seen a single scar from her encounter with Jaws, nor does she display any lingering mental trauma or post-traumatic stress issues.

I wish I could crawl inside her brain for a day and see her as she sees herself. I remember how I saw myself when I was three (yes, I actually do), and I imagine it was pretty similar. And I was a pretty important person in my own mind, let me tell you.

Good thing Greer's pretty important in my mind, too.

Just FYI...

2009-10-23T13:34:00.001-07:00

If you used to be on my blogroll, and suddenly aren't anymore, it's because Blogger says you haven't updated your blog in over five months. It was making me sad to see all those names with no new updates, so I cleaned house a little.

Nothing personal, really. I just assumed you'd left your blog to become involved in a passionate facebook addiction. If I have removed you in error, and you are still blogging, PLEASE let me know and I will add you back to my list!

First

2009-10-20T21:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was our first ultrasound, where we found out that we are having only one baby. Not that we were hoping for more than one, or had any reason to expect more than one, but you never know. We can breathe easier in our two bedroom house now.

Well, Justin can breathe easier. I have had severe pain under the right side of my ribcage since Friday and two weeks ago for a few days, which makes it very difficult to breathe at all, actually. I figured it was just some really unpleasant new part of pregnancy, but apparently not. My OB/GYN said she thought it was gallstones, or gallbladder disease. Lovely. She also said they strongly prefer to do a colicystectomy in the second trimester, which for me is in three weeks. Even lovelier. I have an ultrasound tomorrow to confirm, and maybe, hopefully, it's something else, something much easier to get rid of. I miss being able to fully expand my lungs, and I like being able to sleep for more than an hour at a time. I'm odd that way.

Justin and I have names pretty much picked out, and so does Greer, but we thought we would apply to the blogosphere for names, just to see what comes up. Remember our existing children have slightly weird names, and we like to coordinate.

What do you think Hambly Baby #3 should be named?

Dancing King

2009-10-14T16:47:00.000-07:00

Greer had her second dance class today. I tried to video it, but sadly, the battery was running down and I only got a few minutes of her tapping. We'll try again next week. She is adorable and not at all light-footed and she loves her dance box and her leotards and the gummy bear she gets after each class.

Greer and her darling self are not the reason for this post.

The first week we walked into the studio, got Greer's tap shoes on and sent her forth to dance. There were 8 little girls in her class. Well, I assumed they were all girls. I have, after all, only lived in Santa Cruz for four years. It soon became clear to me that one of these girls was not like the others. The only, and I repeat, ONLY, way I knew this was because the mother of the non-girl was talking about her son, right behind me. This boy was wearing a black leotard, black shorts (which I had initially thought were a skirt), black tights, girl tap shoes, and a long chain with a locket or cameo-type pendant around his neck. He had long, curling hair, in a bob style. I regret that I snapped no photos of him. I will endeavor to procure one at next week's class.

Now, the reason I write about this hapless little boy is that I feel like he is a victim. Not because he is taking a tap and ballet class. I have no issue with that, if it's what he wants to do. I strongly object to making little boys look like little girls. I know it's cool right now for boys to let their hair grow out, and this is fine. Not my favorite thing, because I have a hard time with the sloppiness of the look, but still, fine. I know there probably isn't a whole lot of dancewear available for the preschool male tap/ballet dancer.

I know all of these things, and still, when I look at this child and his overwhelmingly hippie by way of New Age-Rastafarian mother, I feel like it goes deeper than just those things. The poor kid is wearing a necklace, for crying out loud! His name, apparently, is Rossiel, (which, she expounded last week, she named him because in Hebrew, names that end in -iel, are archangelic, like Gabriel or Uriel) for crying out even louder!

I guess I have this conservative and old-fashioned view that as parents, we need to provide as strong a foundation and start in life as we possibly can for our kids, to help them know who they are. And I hate this new idea that seems to be coming over the world that gender-confusion in early childhood doesn't have any effect on the child. It's as if people are afraid to parent, to give their kids a little send-off down the road of life by saying ok, you're a boy, you're going to play this part. Maybe this happens more where I live than other places, I don't know. I can't imagine it in Utah, somehow.

I guess it comes down to this: if you're going to put him in dance, that's great, but let him be a BOY. Give him some way to identify himself, to anchor himself. I think if Declan was taking a dance class, I'd do what I could to make him look boyish. Like a Metallica t-shirt, or something similarly unambiguous. I'd cut his hair so that the other parents wouldn't sincerely think he was a girl. I certainly wouldn't force the boy into tights.

I'm sure I've offended someone with my rant, and I don't mean to be offensive. I just hate laissez-faire parenting. And I can't get around the fact that boys are boys and girls are girls, and they have specific roles in life and society that are not only important, but necessary for society to function at an optimal level. Which society sure isn't doing now.

Poor Rossiel. I turned him into a social commentary. He's probably just a nice kid whose mom likes long hair on little boys and couldn't find any boy tap shoes in his size.

The Tale of the Fortune Cookie That Answered My Prayers

2009-09-27T18:34:00.000-07:00

Right about the year-mark of our recent attempts to coax Baby #3 to join our family, Justin and I went to the temple. (Please go here to learn about why Mormons go to the temple. It's just too much to type here.)I made it a goal that while there, I would make a special effort to peel back the frustration, the desperation and the irritation I had been feeling about the situation. (That was a lot of -ations.) I had come to the point where all I wanted was a confirmation that our efforts were indeed going to bear fruit someday.

So all through the temple session, I sat and really concentrated and made a special effort to hear any whisperings, any promptings, any shoves in the bum that the Lord might send my way. (Since we started trying to have #3, I have felt very calm about the whole thing, even when it took far longer than I wanted it to. I think my motivation on this particular evening was the idea that maybe I was trying to do things my way and not the Lord's, and I needed to know if I was indeed going the right direction. Anyway...) Towards the end of our time in that beautiful, peaceful place that night, I felt deep down I had received an answer that came from something other than my own very stubborn self. And it was an answer I liked. I could go on with this knowledge in my heart.

After leaving the temple we went to dinner with some friends at PF Chang's in Fremont. After dinner, we were of course given fortune cookies. This was my fortune:

I thought that was a coincidence after the focus of my thoughts and prayers that night, and I found myself putting the fortune in my wallet.

That was June 12. On September 16, almost exactly three months from that date, I found out that I am indeed pregnant, and our prayers had been answered.

I realize the fortune cookie could be seen as a complete coincidence. Anyone else at our table, or in the whole restaurant could have been given that cookie, and maybe it would have been significant and maybe not. But I also think that a loving Father in Heaven saw into my heart and gave me an answer from a most unexpected quarter. I take my inspiration where I can get it, and sometimes coincidence is a miracle we are unwilling to acknowledge, or don't have strong enough faith to accept.

Silly and insignificant and cliche as this was, it gave me the strength and the faith to persevere toward my goal, and it strengthened my conviction that there is Someone up there, and He loves us more than we can ever know. He just has a bigger picture and a broader timetable.

Incidentally, I think I understand a little about the Lord's timing in this situation. In a ward where new babies are few and far between, two other women are pregnant and due within 6 weeks of me. We were all in the Primary presidency together, so a word to the wise: Avoid Primary in the Aptos Ward if you're not prepared to have a baby. It will be comforting to have these babies and eventually, kids and teenagers who are the same age as our third child, in an area where the Church is small and the spiritual and moral compass is sadly lacking.

I know our prayers are heard, and I know they're answered, and I know they are always answered in a way that is the best for us, whether or not we recognize it at the time. I certainly didn't recognize it at the time, but I do now.

My Son is Absolutely the Coolest Kid Ever...

2009-09-22T17:13:00.000-07:00

and here's why:

We were driving to a dental appointment this afternoon, reminiscing about my cousin's wedding, at which Declan cut a serious rug. He talked about how much he had enjoyed dancing the entire time at the reception, and then he threw out the best all-time kid quote ever.

Declan: Mom, I've never wanted to be a just a regular kid. I've always wanted to be Hollywood's next big dancer. It's my dream.

To which I replied with stunned silence and painfully stifled yet adoring laughter.

Thirteen Negatives and...

2009-09-22T17:10:00.000-07:00

finally a positive!

We found out we are finally expecting our third child sometime in May!

Declan wants a boy, Greer most emphatically wants a girl, and Justin and I just want it to be a single, healthy baby.

(I know I still have a list of things to post about, but this supercedes pretty much any of that. Also, I must add to that list the Tale of the Fortune Cookie That Answered My Prayer.)

Things To Blog About

2009-09-15T09:12:00.000-07:00

Just so I don't forget, these are the things I having percolating in my brain to post about

Greer's princess party
Declan's first day of school
photos from New York
things I love

Ok. So as soon as I have a spare second to upload, organize and type, expect some good stuff.

Unanticipated Physical Challenge

2009-09-02T14:57:00.000-07:00

Remember on that show Double Dare, when the kid would have the option to "take the Physical Challenge"?

Well, we were walking through the grocery store Saturday night, and I remembered that I had a mere two cans of Coke Zero keeping me from complete cola desolation. I reminded Justin that we needed soda, and he said he had been planning to stock up over Labor Day weekend, when soda would be massively on sale.

I must add here that this episode took place mere hours after the marathon baking and frosting madness of my first baking job (see previous post). I was exhausted. As in, it hurt my brain to form words, let alone coherent sentences. And the last thing I wanted to think about was anything food-related. I include this information merely as one possible explanation for the mad plan that entered my mind at this juncture.

"Never mind," I told Justin. "Don't buy any. I want to see if I can live without it."

What!? my brain screamed. Did I just say that out loud?! Ok, well, I'll try it. How bad can it be?

So we left the grocery store without Coke Zero. I drank one of my two cans on Sunday and one on Monday. And really, aside from missing the taste, I've been ok. I think that having a cold coincidental to weaning myself off the sauce has helped. I haven't had any headaches yet, which I have been told is the worst part. I do have this strange but not overwhelming craving-thirsty feeling in my mouth, like my tongue wants something very specific. But it's less today than yesterday, so maybe that will go away completely soon.

I can't say I did it in the name of better health, although I know that will be a benefit. Nor can I say that I felt like a slave to the drink, and so decided to shed it once and for all. Coke Zero really is one of those things I just love. So why on earth did I make this rash decision? I'm not sure, but the only test I've had was yesterday in the drive-thru, when I went to order my usual cola beverage and had to back pedal quickly and substitute with Minute-Maid Lite Lemonade. And really, it's no substitute.

I'll be in Simi this weekend, with my cola-guzzling family, who may or may not disown me after they read this post. This will be the true test. More updates to follow.

The Beginning of Something Wonderful?

2009-09-02T13:51:00.001-07:00

This last weekend I had my very first baking job. Tyler, a recording buddy of Justin's, got married and asked me to do the cake and cupcakes.
I was excited for my first outing, and also excited to see if I would really enjoy baking for quantity as much as I do for fun.
It took about 12 hours all told, but we ended up with 190 cupcakes (I made a few dozen extra to be able to weed out the "uglies"), and a 2-layer nine-inch round cake. I was really, really, really apprehensive about that layer cake; it's so very not my thing. The only real hitch was the record heat the day of the wedding, which caused me some real concern as I iced the already dreaded cake.
Everything eventually turned out beautifully, and I got a ton of much-appreciated compliments, and I can honestly say I'm not sick of cupcakes. However, I can also say with complete honesty that I dream of a double oven. And a bigger kitchen.

Reading Log

2009-08-25T14:56:00.000-07:00

Jenn, reading aloud from C.S. Lewis' The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and reasonably certain that Declan is paying no attention whatsoever: Something very curious indeed had come out of the cabin in the poop and was slowly approaching them...

Declan: hilarious giggles

Declan: Mom, read that again!

Jenn, knowing precisely where this is going: Something very curious indeed had come out of the cabin in the poop and was slowly approaching them...

Declan: more hilarious giggles, with a slight tinge of hysteria and asthmatic wheezing thrown in.

Declan: Poop!

Jenn, pointing to the handy diagram of the Dawn Treader in the book: Declan, it's part of the ship, see? The poop deck. I'm not sure exactly why they call it that...

Declan: same mad giggles, but longer and even less controlled

Declan: Poop deck!

Greer: Poop deck!

Both kids giggling madly and practically rolling on the floor: Poop deck!

Jenn, who decides if you can't beat 'em, join 'em: giggling resignedly with her children.

Jenn: Ok, we only have a page left. Stop saying poop deck until I finish!

Both: Poop deck!

Jenn: Ok, stop! (And then Jenn continues reading the story)

Declan and Greer, at different, but steady intervals through the rest of the chapter: Poop deck!

So much for trying to instill some literary sensibility and culture in the rising generation.

In Which I Do Something Incredibly Stupid By Accident And Consequently Do Something Impressively and Intentionally Un-Girly

2009-08-11T09:26:00.000-07:00

You will remember that I drive this:

What you may not know is that this

is the only space I have to get my huge car turned around in order to get it down this:

(Yes, those are our garbage barrels, aaaallll the way down there.)

Well, last night it happened. I finally misjudged my car and my driveway. I was reversing into this

and the handy-dandy backing sensor started beeping madly. So I braked. Hard. And fast. And then I felt a slip and a bump. Crap.

On the other side of our little turn-out area there is pretty much nothing. Well, there's a steep grade and a lot of bushes. So basically if you go over that edge, you want to get yourself out of the situation before Justin...oops, I mean your husband, gets home.

I got out of the car to see my left rear tire dangling in space. The bottom of the chassis was resting comfortably and with some stability on the ground. I thought to myself, "Ok, Jenn, you can get this 4-wheel drive V8-equipped vehicle back on the road." I was mad at myself but confident. I said one of the most fervent prayers of my life and went to inspect the damage.

It was not pretty, but I thought if I could wedge something under the tire, it could find some purchase and this would work.

I will not detail all umpteen attempts I made to lever my car back up over the retaining wall. I did not count all the drops of sweat that dripped into my eyes and onto the ground. I can't imagine how many times I smashed my fingers against the huge, heavy and unwieldy rocks I wedged under that blasted tire, or how many times I yelled "OW!", when I really wanted to yell something profane, loudly and with great force. I think I used about a quarter of that capacious gas tank, and I am now quite familiar with the use of Chevrolet's 4WD high and low features. Greer seemed to think the whole thing was a game, and that we could, at any second, continue on our merry way to her chosen destination, the bookstore (yes, she is absolutely my daughter!).

All I will recount is the shooting joy that stabbed through me when I felt that tire catch for the first time on what I can conclusively say is my all-time favorite two-by-four in the whole world. The fleeting trepidation and bold adventurousness with which I pressed on, even though my other back tire was coming perilously close to the abyss. The hesitant certainty that this was, in fact, going to work and even more delicious, that it would work before Justin came home. The wash of relief and empowerment and love for all mankind that surged through my veins and then made me feel like I needed ice cream and a nap, post haste.

These are the tools of my deliverance. I think I will bronze that board and hang it in my living room, and then will it to my firstborn as a family heirloom.

Greer and I went straight to Baskin-Robbins, intending to get Pink Bubblegum together. Sadly, they were out of our target flavor, but I ended up with a rare (for me) double scoop of peanut butter and chocolate. And we were safely home before Justin got back. And he was only mildly upset when I told him of my triumph. (Although he wasn't as proud or impressed with me as I was. I can't imagine why.) And I felt a profound sense of love for my dear friend the Superburban.

And all was right with the world.

I have seen paradise...

2009-08-03T14:00:00.000-07:00

and it is for sale.

Anyone who knows me, and for that matter, anyone who hasn't been living under a rock, knows that chocolate and pork products are my two favorite edibles. I have always said that if there was a way to combine the salty smokiness of bacon with the creamy dreamy richness of chocolate, I would have found my super food.

Well, lo and behold! The super food has arrived. Vosges Haut Chocolate has unleashed upon an unsuspecting world 3 ounces of glory, entitled Mo's Bacon Bar. This darling little rectangle combines applewood smoked bacon, alderwood smoked salt and a deep milk chocolate.

(The teeny, tiny fly in my ointment is that it's milk chocolate. Imagine my gleeful joy when I discovered, after visiting their website, that Vosges now makes Mo's Dark Bacon Bar. Ah, bliss!)

I was slightly hesitant to try the bar when Justin brought it home, fearing to have my hopes dashed and my lifelong dream destroyed. I took a small bite of the firm, creamy chocolate, and was gratified to taste not an overwhelmingly porkiness, but a smoky, salty-sweet ta-da! of flavor. It was delicious and proof that dreams come true.

They have two shops in New York, which maddens me, as I was so close and yet so unknowing. Andrea, if you're reading this, I think it would be an act of extreme charity if you would take one for the team and visit the Vosges boutique in either SoHo or the Upper East Side, just to do a little reconaissance.

Vosges also sells their wares at Neiman Marcus in San Francisco, and at Deluxe Foods of Aptos, the gourmet market just down the street from my house.

They also sell these little bacon-y chocolate lovelies, which are so satisfying on so many levels. And also bacon-chocolate chip pancake mix. I will be attempting to duplicate this recipe this week if anyone feels like dropping by for breakfast.

Tagged...I'm it!

2009-07-29T11:52:00.000-07:00

What is your current obsession? Baking is my constant obsession. And I prefer to use "passion" in place of obsession. It's less creepy.
What do you hate the most that everybody else seems to love? Hybrid cars and reality TV.
What are you wearing today? Not sure yet. It depends on how soon I get my lazy bum on the treadmill.
What's for dinner? Whatever Justin feels like cooking. I might be spoiled, but I recognize my limitations. He cooks, I bake.
What would you eat for your last meal? Anything from The French Laundry or Artisanal.
What's the last thing you bought? Jujubes, Cherry Laffy Taffy, Lemonheads, Airheads and Snickers Dark at Rite Aid. The candy basket was getting low.
What are you listening to right now? My kids yelling at each other. When does school start again?
What do you think of the person that tagged you? I think I've known Jensa since I was 7 years old. She's fabulous. Smart, fun, a great mom, a strong, educated woman and she likes the same kind of candy I do. What's not to like?
If you could have a house, fully paid for, and totally furnished anywhere in the world, where would it be? It would be in Carmel, or Big Sur. I realize these places are only 30 minutes from my house now, but hey, paradise is paradise. The air smells better in Carmel than anywhere I have ever been. And seriously, why wouldn't I want to live in a place where the ocean meets the mountains and you can wear sweaters all year? I love sweaters.
What is one of your hobbies? Well, ignoring the cupcake in the room, and excluding reading because it's more like a necessity than a hobby, I would say general creativity. I guess I define that as going to the craft store, wandering through the aisles, coming home and producing something from my own head, using my own ideas, made with my own hands.
What are your favorite smells? Almond extract, clean Declan and Greer, Justin's deodorant (Sure Original Solid, FYI), potting soil, Lip Slip lip gloss, bacon or beef cooking, violets, warm asphalt after summer rain, the air in Aptos, apple orchards in summer and warm chocolate in any form.
What is your favorite color? As a general rule my favorite collor is red, but lately I've been going through a purple and/or teal phase. I cannot explain it, nor do I wish to fight against it.
What is your favorite piece of clothing in your wardrobe? The dress Justin gave me for Christmas last year that I am not skinny enough to wear yet, but which I sigh over every time I go into my closet. It's so perfectly "me" I can't handle it.
What is your dream job? Well, if we're talking outside the home, I would think it would be a no-brainer. Bakery owner, hands down. If you will it, it is no dream, dude.
Describe your personal style. I guess it's what would happen if the Gap and Anthropologie had a child. Pretty but not girly, solid colors with details like ruffles or pintucks or buttons, think 90's Meg Ryan but a little more feminine. And if there is a print, it's always natural, flowers, butterflies, birds, never just a graphic print. And I love love love dresses. Never thought I would say that.
What are you going to do after this? Hmmm. I have a whole book of New York Times crossword puzzles to do. That sounds like a plan!
What inspires you? Words. I love words. Doesn't matter what language. Some things can't be expressed in English the way they can in some other tongue. Music. Nothing expresses divinity better than music. Food. Flavors are the words food uses to communicate itself to us. It's all language, I guess.
Who was the last person you kissed? Greer
What are you currently reading? Christ and the New Covenant by Jeffrey R. Holland, and The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri. Yes, my brain is tired. Tired but uplifted.
What delighted you most today? The groany, yelpy squealy noises Justin made this morning to lure the kids into our room.
By what criteria do you judge a person? I just get a feeling about people. Some resonate more than others.
What is something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t done yet? Learned how to work metal to make jewelry. It's on my list.

I tag: Shannon W., Shannon M., Janelle, Megan H., Julia, Mer and Edward, Miriam, Sharalyn, Andrea, Rachel H. and Meggan. Yes, that's more than 8. I like to know what people think.

The rules:
1. Answer the questions on your blog.
2. Replace one question you dislike with a question of your invention.
3. Tag eight other people

Thing 1 and Thing 2

2009-07-27T12:56:00.000-07:00

Thing 1:
I am fascinated by the way each of my children interacts with their stuffed animals.

Declan has a whole family of them on his bed, tucks each one in at night and LOVES his Build-A-Bear panda and puppy, his Webkinz lemur, Boston terrier and platypus, and a Beanie Baby koala he got in a Happy Meal. He has created a little house for it in a Rubbermaid storage bin that formerly housed pirate swords and lightsabers. He names each new addition to his little family, and has a real concern for and a genuine attachment to each of his furry friends.

Greer has a white Webkinz, vaguely terrier in species, to which she is wholly and exclusively attached. She has other animals and dolls, but she always comes back to the doggie. It doesn't even have a name. It's just "her doggie". She goes through phases where she is attached to some other toy in addition to "her doggie", but nothing else is absolutely constant.

I can't decide if it's a birth order thing or an age thing.

Thing 2:
Last night Justin and I were trying to figure out the funniest thing that has happened in our marriage. It has been almost 8 years, and as I tried to look back, it was all a blur. Or a mush. I know there have been lots of funny things, I just couldn't pick them out of the haze. It was midnight, after a relatively tiring Sunday, but still. So then we moved on to the funniest thing Justin had done during our marriage. He came up with a few ideas, and when he made each suggestion, I could remember it. But I could not clearly introduce any memories of my own. This disturbed me a bit.

As I lay there trying to fall asleep, I realized what people mean by being "in the moment". I need to be better at looking around me and committing "the moment" to memory, rather than mentally rushing ahead to the next situation. Since we've had kids, time, and therefore, life, seems to have passed before I realize it.

Travelogue

2009-07-23T12:03:00.000-07:00

So I'm home. I've actually been home since Saturday night, but it has taken me far longer than I imagined to get used to being in my own home again. Incidentally, it did not take me any time at all to get used to sleeping in my own bed again. I was good with that on Saturday.

So, my trip. Everything went smoothly, despite my neurotic post the day before we left. Planes arrived and departed, five-hour car trips were made and successful, kids were well behaved and family was welcoming. I was treated to yet another reminder of why we moved out of L.A.: suffice it to say, I am a sweaty woman, and southern California brings out the sweatiest in me.

New York was perfect. Apparently the weather was quite well behaved, breezy but warm, not too humid, lovely for all the walking and eating we did. With a little shopping thrown in. And a lot of talking and even more laughing. A vacation is always better when conducted in the company of kindred spirits.

So, we walked, we talked, we ate. Pretty much the whole time. Justin loves hamburgers, so we decided to conduct a systematic comparison of the City's burger joints. I love cupcakes, so we underwent a similar experiment in baked goods. We were not disappointed. The aptly named Burger Joint, a very vibe-y and hidden tiny little place, Shake Shack (the third best meal we ate), and BRGR were duly tasted and analyzed, all in the name of science, of course. We decided that Burger Joint had the best atmosphere, BRGR the best fries (you can get a combo of regular fries, sweet potato fries and red onion rings: delish) and Shake Shack won best over all. I am still dreaming of their concrete, which is like a Blizzard made with frozen custard. Their burgers were equally tasty. And I'm making my mouth water as I type.

We only tried two cupcakeries, Crumbs on the Upper West Side (conveniently near Shake Shack!), and Sugar Sweet Sunshine, but we also went to Doughnut Plant, so I'll include that in the running. Best cupcake award goes handily to Crumbs for their luscious and enviable Baba Booey. Mmmmm! Sugar Sweet Sunshine gets my vote for fun place to sit, chat and nosh. And the Doughnut Plant. What can I say, except that I have tasted perfection and can no longer be satisfied by anything less. Their Tres Leches Doughnut is ideal. Period.

We went to the American Museum of Natural History, which made Declan green with envy, and to the Met, which I can sincerely say is one of my favorite places ever, anywhere. Of course these stops were only pauses between eating, but quite enjoyable none the less. I also got to find out my weight on Halley's comet and Jupiter. I am never, ever moving to Jupiter.

We wandered around Greenwich Village, shopped at a street fair and bought some cheese at the venerable establishment, Murray's Cheese Shop, a place I could wander in for hours. So much cheese, and chocolate and olives and crackers. Mmmmm.

We spent a day and a half in Brooklyn, where we sampled the cuisine of England at The Chip Shop. Mmmmm. They have a full menu of deep-fried candy bars, which is pretty much like having the devil offer you dessert. Mmmmm. We went to the Williamsburgh neighborhood in Brooklyn, and wandered up and down Bedford Street or Avenue, I can't remember which. It's a laid back, slightly hippie but more hip area. Several very cool shops, including a fabulous second-hand place called Ugly Luggage, where I could have easily refurnished several rooms in my house if I hadn't been 3,000 miles from my house. I did find a few easily transportable pieces, which you will have to visit me to see.

Justin and I went down to Coney Island, sampled Nathan's Famous hot dogs and saw Wilco (for the second time in three weeks). It was awesome, but after walking around ALL day, and then standing for two and a half hours, my feet and ankles were so swollen, I felt nine months pregnant. The second day we spent in Brooklyn, we ate at a lovely little BBQ place called Fette Sau (Thanks, Chris, for the recommendation!) I had seen it mentioned in Bon Appetit's 10 Best New BBQ Restaurants list and determined to try it out. Definitely not disappointed. Wow. We also got to see a friend of Justin's from high school, Sarah Roha,who just happened to be his prom date. Always fun to see an old friend in a strange city.

Finally, the day before we left, we had lunch with Andrea and Paul at Artisanal, a lovely little bistro with a menu based solely on cheese. I cannot express in words how satisfying and glorious this meal was. I think that collectively, it was the best meal I have ever eaten. If you are ever in New York, eat here. And that's all I have to say about that.

I think I could love New York. It can be intimidating, but only until you dive in and embrace it. Someone said at church while we were there, that New Yorkers have no right to be bored in their city. And it's true. It felt like there was always something else to find or explore or learn about or taste. That must be what keeps everyone coming back.

We got back to Simi Valley, hugged the kids till they protested and drove Justin to the airport in the morning. It was nice to have a few days to hang out with family, celebrate Pioneer Day and get back on West Coast time. We celebrated my darling niece Hartlee's first birthday, jumped in the Superburban, and wended our tired but happy way home.

We were gone for exactly half of July. I couldn't have enjoyed my trip more. Thanks to everyone who made it possible! And thanks to New York for tasting so good!

Wherein I get so excited that I overuse punctuation...

2009-07-07T10:22:00.000-07:00

I'm going to have a husband tonight!

I've been a quasi-single-parent since Friday morning. While I have been fortunate to be staying with my in-laws and surrounded by family, I still miss my other half. Also, I have a rekindled appreciation for true single parents. Gnarly. That's all I have to say.

Even more exciting than having a husband again is that I get to go on vacation with just him! For a whole week! Did I mention just with him?! And to one of my favorite places, to visit two of my favorite people! Having just exhausted my quota of exclamation points for one post, I feel I should calm down. Did I mention we're going to a restaurant all about cheese, and to see Wilco (the second time in three weeks), all in the same day?! Ok, I'm calm now. Really.

NEW YORK!!! (That was for you, Andrea.)

The Deep Breath Before the Plunge

2009-07-02T13:25:00.000-07:00

So, I don't enjoy roller coasters with drops. Seriously, I even get sweaty-palmed on The Pirates of the Caribbean. And I feel like this week has been ratcheting my roller coaster tram higher and higher up the hill, and tomorrow we go over the top. All this anticipation and build-up, and then a few brief seconds of mortal terror, and then I'm fine. Today is the mortal terror part.

As I madly launder, sort, fold and check things off, I can feel it mounting: I carry my stress in my shoulders and my jaw. I keep having to remind myself to stop clenching my teeth, stop shrugging up my shoulders.

It's not that I'm not looking forward to being with family and friends for that length of time. It's not really even that I'll be out of my home element. It's more that I'm a total worry wart.

I could carry that title proudly, if I worried about really meaningful things, like the fact that my husband and I will be 3,000 miles away from our kids for a week, or that I'll be driving to and from Simi Valley by myself, or that Justin will be flying to and from Burbank by himself. Those are things that could potentially change our lives, should disaster strike. But honestly, I'm not all that concerned about those circumstances. (I'm leaving my kids with my mom, for crying out loud. They're probably safer with her than with me, even.)

It's the intricacy of this particular trip that is freaking me out right now, the structure of it. I leave tomorrow morning by myself, then 4th of July (which includes the Hambly Family 5k and my nieces' baptisms), then single-parenthood for three days, till Justin comes down, picking him up at the airport, then getting to LAX, then getting to JFK, then getting Andrea's, then actually being able to relax for a week, then getting to JFK, then getting to LAX, then getting Justin to the airport in the morning, then two days more of single-parenthood, then a birthday party, then driving home alone. Add to that collecting and re-collecting the clothes, toys and various paraphernalia required for such a lengthy sojourn, plus the knowledge that I'll have to work in laundry at some point, and the madness increases.

Even as I stand surrounded by towering stacks of laundry and luggage, waiting for the prescription to be filled, which I completely forgot about but absolutely need, looking at my mostly un-fulfilled list, I realize my frantic spazziness (if that's even a word; if not, I have just coined it) is completely misplaced and worse, unnecessary. I know all of these things will happen in their appointed times and places, and that there will be family coming out of the woodwork, should I need any help. I know that once I have all the laundry done, all the suitcases zipped up, all the bikes and toys and DVDs marshalled and ready to load, once I have checked everything off my list, I will be calm and ready and even excited to go. I might even sleep tonight.

Right now, I either need to go work out, or crawl into bed with a book, a Coke Zero and a chocolate cupcake. Or maybe both.

Update on the Aftermath

2009-06-29T12:53:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I was an emotional wreck for two days. And strangely, the by-product of that was a feeling of extreme fragility, like I would crumble into dust and blow away at the slightest force.

Thankfully, a welcome change of thought and pace came on Friday, when my brother Chris and his wife Melissa arrived, and we went to see Wilco (which is to Justin as U2 is to me). It was a beautiful night, a cool venue, some obliviously dorky pot heads in front of us to make fun of, and the band was fabulous. My spirits were completely lifted. Hopefully that wasn't the second-hand pot smoke talking.

After a little venting and a lot of kind, supportive and encouraging words from lots and lots of people, I have gained some perspective. An hour long conversation with our unbelievably awesome bishop (the spirituality emanates from him in waves) added a lot, and reassured me tremendously.

I have realized or gained a stronger conviction of several things. First is that I feel that I have given the best service I can give these last two years. There is no doctrine in the gospel to measure our individual service, not benchmark we have to meet; there is only the knowledge that one day we will have to account for ourselves before the ultimate authority, and I feel good about that. Second is that the Lord gave me this calling, and that no matter what, I am the person who has the authority to perform that calling. Regardless of what angry, ungrateful, unhappy people may think or say or do. Third is that I determine my worth, and I can't let one person sweep my feet out from under me. (Thanks, Lynda. Your comments helped a lot.) I can always improve, though, and so I will take the valid bits of criticism and act on them. Fourth is that not only does Satan use evil influences from the outside, he tries to pull us apart from the inside, where we expect it less. Fifth is that I have been taught by some exemplary, strong, wise women, and that I want to be like them. I learned a few other things, but those are the highlights.

Anyway, the upshot is that while we are not 100 percent NOT teaching next year, we aren't absolutely sure we will, either. We're praying on it. If we do, there will be some major changes, and while this person who has instigated all the trouble might choose not to send her sons to our class, we will still be there, performing our calling and doing our absolute best to make sure the kids in our ward feel the spirit and understand the gospel.

There aren't big or strong enough words to express the depth of my gratitude, my amazement, my humility and the richness of my wealth of friends. One wonderful friend, who was my Young Womens president, taught me about shouldering on and doing what is right, even when under attack. This woman has always been, in my mind, the personification of "gospel in action". She just gives and gives and cares and loves and gives some more, and her service had a major effect on my formative testimony. And she loves the Far Side comics, which I think needs to be high on the list of qualifications for exaltation. Thanks Diane, and love you!

So many people commented here on blogspot or on facebook, and each one of you helped me get my head straight. Thanks to all of you.

Also, Mr. Judd, I think I'll pass on your offer for now, but I'll definitely keep you in mind.

Stop this day, I want to get off!

2009-06-25T16:51:00.000-07:00

This is one of those days. And even worse, it's the second one of those days I've had this week. I don't think I've EVER had a week when I actually sobbed into my pillow twice in as many days.

I've tried to come up with a word to capture what I feel on those days. I've reached the conclusion that days like today really can't be shoved into a single word. A few words, a phrase, a paragraph, a blog, but not just one word.

Here are a few: inadequate; unappreciated and worse, that everyone who "unappreciates" me is completely justified; worthless; "why bother when nothing I do comes out right anyway?"; unmotivated, and then unmotivated to find any motivation; self-doubting and along the same lines, "How can I be sure that anything I do is any good?"; non-entity; wasted and wasting my time, my mind, my talents; never measuring up to my own ideal self, let alone what other people might expect from me.

You get the point. It's been a rough one.

There are obviously multiple factors in this equation, and some of them are the usual, everyday insecurities and frustrations we all deal with and which sometimes just come to a head.

Today, however, was the product of outside forces acting upon me, from a completely unexpected quarter. I won't go into detail, because I don't think it right to continue a bad situation further. Suffice it to say, I completely understand why people get offended and leave the Church.

This Seminary parent's behavior and actions have made me doubt the value of the last two years of Seminary service, my own ability as a teacher, and the impression and depth of knowledge I was able to impart to the kids in our class. It has also made me feel that what I deemed dedication to my calling was viewed with skepticism and concern. I'm totally bummed, because Justin has decided he's done, that we're not teaching next year, that the sacrifice and blessings aren't worth the pain we've gone through at the end of this year. We don't want any alleged shortcomings as teachers or people to cause a rift in the ward; maybe it's better this way.

It breaks my heart, because I really love teaching Seminary, and I really love the kids, and I was SO excited to teach Book of Mormon next year.

If I was really such a bad teacher, and my home was really such an awful place to be, I hope they have an exponentially better experience next year, with whoever the new teacher is.

Bake this...NOW!

2009-06-15T19:48:00.000-07:00

Not the best photo, but it's also the very last slice. I can say with near perfect assurance that this is my favorite pie. And I know pie.

I'm convinced that if there was some way to include chocolate in this recipe, instant and lasting world peace would be achieved.

Raspberry Lemon Meringue Pie

MAKES 1 (9-INCH) PIE (8 SERVINGS)

STRAWBERRY-RASPBERRY JAM
1 cup fresh strawberries, coarsely sliced, divided
2/3 cup fresh raspberries, divided
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 (9-inch) pie shell, baked

LEMON CURD
1/2 teaspoon powdered gelatin
1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
4 egg yolks, whites reserved
1/2 pinch salt
6 tablespoons sugar
4 tablespoons butter

MERINGUE
1 cup sugar
Reserved egg whites (about 2/3 cup)
1 cup fresh raspberries

For the strawberry-raspberry jam: Place half the raspberries, half the strawberries and the lemon juice in a heavy bottom saucepan and mash.
In a small bowl, mix together sugar and cornstarch and add to the berries. Cook over medium heat, continually stirring and mashing the berries until the mixture begins to boil. Once it begins to boil, it should thicken quickly.
After about 1 minute, remove pan from heat, let rest 5 to 10 minutes and stir in remaining raspberries and strawberries. Spread jam mixture evenly on the bottom of a pre-baked pie shell. Place pie in refrigerator.

For the lemon curd: Sprinkle gelatin over the lemon juice and let it sit for about 5 minutes.
In a large bowl, whisk yolks until smooth, then whisk in salt.
In a saucepan, bring the lemon juice mixture, sugar and butter to a boil. Remove from heat and add a little of the hot mixture at a time into the egg yolks while continually stirring. Do this slowly so the heat dissipates and does not cook the egg yolks.
Once combined, place the mixture back into the saucepan over medium heat and whisk until thickened. Strain curd into the bowl of a mixer and whip it with the whisk attachment on medium speed (or with a hand mixer) until it reaches room temperature.
Remove pie from refrigerator and cover jam layer with lemon curd to about 1/4- to 1/2-inch from top rim of pie shell. Gently cover surface with plastic wrap and return to refrigerator for 20 to 30 minutes.

For the meringue: Whisk together sugar and the reserved egg whites in a bowl. Place bowl over a pot of barely simmering water and whisk until mixture has doubled in volume and is translucent (temperature should be 140 degrees; if you have concerns about egg safety, use pasteurized eggs and cook meringue to 165 degrees).
Transfer to a mixing bowl and whisk on high speed until the mixture reaches room temperature.
Remove the pie from the refrigerator, gently peel off the plastic wrap and spread 1 cup of raspberries across the top of the lemon curd layer. Using a spoon or spatula, spread the meringue over the top and shape into peaks or swirls.
Briefly toast meringue to a golden brown with a mini-propane torch or under the broiler, watching carefully so it doesn't burn.

Courtesy of Paula Haney, Hoosier Mama Pie Company

(copied from the Chicago Sun-Times website)

A Boy and His Hawk

2009-06-10T20:58:00.000-07:00

In honor of the arrival of (supposedly) warmer weather and the departure of kindergarten, a rite of passage has taken place: the mohawk.

I tried to get him when he wasn't smiling, but to no avail.

Just a little flex...

That's my boy...

And my girl, apparently...

Of course, he only gets to keep it till Sunday. I don't do mohawks at church.

The Great Race

2009-06-07T17:26:00.000-07:00

Well, I did it. I ran my first official race.

It was hard. It was a challenge, and a jumping-off point.

I didn't run the entire course, but I ran more than I expected to.

It was inspiring and exciting to stand in the company of so many people who are so obviously dedicated and disciplined, able to make their bodies carry them over so much distance. I have never seen so many amazingly lean and muscular legs in one place at one time.

I want to be one of them. Badly. (The dedicated and disciplined people, I mean. Not the lean and muscular legs. Well, I wanted to be one of the dedicated and discplined people, and to have the lean and muscular legs. Whatever. You get the point.)

I think I'm addicted.

Here we are pre-race: my sister Liz, my mom, me and my friend Maria.

Liz finished in under 29 minutes!

Maria came in at 30:08. She has an unfair advantage, of course, because she's an aerobics instructor and in ridiculously good shape.

My mom didn't realize see the time clock, so she isn't sure what her time was, but it wasn't too long after Maria.

And here I am, in all my sweaty, red-faced glory. My goal was to finish in under 45 minutes, and I came in at 44:20. I was pretty excited about that, once I could breathe again.

Post-race, sweaty, tired, hungry and feeling a profound sense of accomplishment.

My mom, my sister and I ran this race to commemorate our 50th, 30th and 20th birthdays, and we set a goal to run a marathon together when we're 55, 35 and 25. Maria is going to join us, even though she'll be 41 by then, and will throw off the five year age increment. We just like to have her around. We've heard that the St. George Marathon is all downhill, and we like that idea.
Justin said he'll run the next 5k with me, and I'm on the lookout for a good one.

Life in Greer-Land

2009-05-31T21:17:00.000-07:00

Our conversation this morning while getting ready to go to church...

Declan: Mom, next time you go to Target, will you get me some gel so I can spike up my hair?

Me: Sure, next time I go.

Greer: Mom, you have to get me pink Sleeping Beauty hair gel at Target next time!

Five minutes later....

Me: Declan, I'm going to give you a whole bucket of tater-tot casserole for dinner!

Declan: YESSSS!

Greer: I want a mine in a pink Sleeping Beauty bucket!

A little while later...

Declan: Mom, what are we having for dessert tonight when the missionaries come over?

Me: Chocolate peanut butter ganache cakes.

Greer: Mom, you need to make me a pink Sleeping Beauty chocolate peanut butter cake!

I think I notice a pattern evolving here. This pattern is not confined merely to today, either. Everything in Greer's world must involve these two criteria. The other day she asked me for a pink Sleeping Beauty treadmill.

I was so flabbergasted I couldn't respond. All I can say is good on Disney. My daughter has become your creature.