Money Laundering

Clinkclinkclinkclink.

Pull out clean wet clothes. See something shiny. Fish a dime out of the bottom of the laundry tub.

Stick it in your pocket, go about your cleaning day business. Get incredibly dirty.

Take a long hot shower, after tossing your filthy cleaning clothes in the hamper.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat..........

Thinking

The first thing I think is "Oh CRAP! What's the speed limit here? Am I under it? When did they take those trees down? He's totally hidden that cruiser in there."

The second thing I think is "I need to make sure I tell MilDad about that speed trap since he drives home this way."

The third thing I think is "Duh. Like he's really worried about speed traps when he's driving right now."

And then I try really, really, really hard not to think anymore.

Packing Day

The bags are out and open. Every clean, horizontal surface is covered. With clothes. With papers. With gear. With stuff.

There are lists. Fifteen of this, ten of that. What to put in which bag. What not to bring.

We ply the littles with movies and snacks. The baby with milk and toys. We are on edge.

You sip a beer, slowly. You won't have another for months.

I look at it all. There will be no boot blackened socks to bleach. No t-shirts to soak the sweat out of. I won't carefully transfer the patches to a clean uniform in order to wash the one you insist you can get one more day out of. How long before I stop bending over to scoop up the pajamas you leave, every morning, next to the hamper? How long before it is real? This empty place in my home, in my heart.

Tomorrow there will be lazy morning coffee. And good food. And wine with dinner. And the beach. And then the next, we will do this. You do this thing that you are called to do. I will be here. Brave. True. Strong.

But not today. Today is packing day.

Today I am undone.

Starting over

It's been so long. We've been busy here at the home of the Homebody. Bought a fixer upper. Procreated (welcome T-baby, October of 2010). Schooled and unschooled and moved and renovated and prepared to be Home Alone while MilDad is deployed. So much, so fast. It left my words whirling in my head in circles that defied expression. Nothing would come out in coherent form.

But lately, the world has shifted. Not just magnetic north, wandering with the powerful and often tragic shifts in the Earth's crust. But our politics, our communication, our idea of what it means to be a country in the world. And I found that instead of whirling, I was processing. I still am. There are a great many things I want to write about. And I feel the words wanting to come out, instead of whirling away from my fingertips.

How long will it last? I don't know. But I hope to let the words out to play, once again.

Ode to Iteration

I have been thinking a great deal lately about perfect. I hang out online in lots of Mommy dominant groups. I see such a focus on getting everything perfect. It is an obsession, every facet of parenting must be executed with unerring precision, each child must have exactly the right behavior/diet/stuff/activities or the whole thing was a failure.

Take my kids and my food sensitivities. I figured all of the sensitivities out using trial and error. Even if I had much faith left in allopathic medicine, we don't have the classic IgE allergies. Those are the kind you can go get skin pricked for and, barring the all too common false negatives, you get an answer. So I eliminate suspects, then when the reactions go away we trial one thing at a time to see what is causing the problem. Sure, it takes a while. Sure, you do need to be careful if the reaction is a serious one, and take the necessary precautions. But even allergists, good ones anyway, will tell you elimination and trial is the only way to really know the answer.

Maybe it is because I am a scientist, but it amazes me that most people can't do this. I have lost count of the discussion board threads where a parent goes from doctor to doctor with their sick child. Test after test, appointment after appointment. Weeks and months go by. There is great consternation and frustration, and the child is not getting better. All that trouble for nothing, yet when you suggest keeping a food diary, eliminating a few common food allergens, and maybe switching out a few of the chemical cleaners for more natural items, you might as well be a purple Martian. Folks act like you are absolutely out of your mind, because it is way too hard and besides, you can't possibly take away such and such wonderful healthy food without PROOF that it is causing harm! And how can you kill all those horrible germs without the heavy duty toxic cleaning products!

Even in the wonderful food group I am in you see this. Folks obsess over eliminating just the right things. Spend more time planning the elimination diet than the time it takes on the diet to improve things. Or when things improve, even dramatically, they can't see the forest for the trees. Instead of rejoicing that the eliminations fixed the stomach problems and the eczema and the crazy behavior, they constantly tweak and switch things up and go crazy figuring out if they are getting enough of this or that vitamin. Not only do they rob themselves of the enjoyment of all the improvements, they never get the job done because they can't stop tweaking long enough to actually figure out what is going on. They focus so much on the "mistakes" they made in the diet that they lose focus on the goal, a healthy child.

Every aspect of parenting today is like this. Teach kids readin, ritin, and rithmetic. Forget the joy of a good book, the love of penning a kind letter to a friend, the absolutely nifty a-HA! moment of figuring out that four full 1/4 measure cups fill the 1 measure cup exactly to the top. Make the kids behave, instantaneous obedience and aquiesence to the adult. Forget communicating with the child, helping the child make good decisions, and setting the example. Build the resume to get into the right college (or high school, or PREschool!!). Forget following interests, building on strengths, or heck just letting them be kids and build a fort in the back yard.

I don't know all the answers, our family is far from (that word again) perfect. I yell at my kids sometimes. They misbehave. I forget that a certain food is not safe. They don't always pick up their toys. Horror of horrors, we all watch television. We also play, make messes in the kitchen in pursuit of the yummy cookie, take afternoons to hang out by the pool, sit together reading books, and take long walks after dinner in the evening. We let ourselves have fun and enjoy, even when we have not been perfect.

Yup, I admit, I don't know if I am doing this right. But I DO know, with iron clad, 100% certainty what perfect is.

Perfect is the enemy of all that is good.

Cruisin'

There I was, zipping on down the parkway, headed for a night out with the gal pals. Leather seat perfectly adjusted, leather wrapped wheel in my hands. The sun roof was open, the sky was blue, and Mr. J. Geils and his band were pontificating about love (it STINKS) on the XM radio. This, my friends, was a MOMENT, in the nicest car I have ever owned.

Never mind that everyone was staring at that crazy lady singing to herself in the minivan...

Nifty NOVA Car Buying Tips

AKA how to buy a car without paying too much or losing your soul.

1. FIGURE OUT WHAT YOU WANT. I don't know you, don't ask ME what you want! But you should ask your friends, family, those folks in the parking lot.

2. DRIVE, DRIVE, DRIVE. Test drive anything you are considering. Take some time. Test drive again. If you can POSSIBLY afford it, rent one for a weekend. (At least one rental car company probably has what you want, and you will likely get your request if you rent on a non-holiday weekend.) When you pick a brand, figure out what features are important to you. Some brands have loads of options, others you pick a trim level and that's that. You need to know this for...

3. USE THE INTERNET, PART ONE. Educate the heck out of yourself. Dealer holdbacks, manufacturer's incentives, special programs. There are all sorts of tricks to make that 'dealer invoice' number THOUSANDS more than what the dealer actually paid. You will never actually find that, even Consumer Reports and Edmonds.com way overestimate how much you should pay for the car. But you can get an idea. You also need to know exactly what the manufacturer offers, and what the dealer is putting together on their own to jack the price up.

4. SET THE TONE. This is a HIGHLY competitive market. And dealers are hurting. No one is buying right now, so you are figuratively and literally in the driver's seat. I am not talking about being cutthroat. They deserve to make a living just like anyone else. But YOU deserve a fair price on a car, and any dealership that will play games, add mandatory 'appearance package' items to all its cars, or refuses to give you a straight number is not someone you need to waste your time with.

5. USE THE INTERNET, PART TWO. When you know what you want, exactly, start emailing dealerships. Ask for a quote. You want a DETAILED quote, including all taxes, fees, the base price, delivery charge, and what the 'out the door' price will be. Lots of places will give you a 'base price' that is crazy low. But then they add a jacked up appearance package, several other services and fees, and other things to drive your bottom line price up. Keep track of all the prices, I used a spreadsheet but a notebook or anything you can keep everyone straight in is fine. When you get a good price, send out a message of 'hey, I got this, can you beat that?' Be polite, respectful, and businesslike at all times. Even when you are dealing with total jokers, and trust me you will be at some of these places. Keep going back and forth until you get a good price from several dealerships that you would actually be willing to walk into.

6a. CLOSE THE DEAL, BUT ... Go to your number one choice, with an appointment with a real live person who knows exactly what you want and exactly what you have agreed to pay for it. If you need financing, you should be pre-approved with your own financial institution. Credit unions are great. The dealership will likely have a better interest rate, but if you have the money already available it forces them to 'do better' if they want your business. And you are not stuck just accepting whatever interest rate they feel like offering you. They WILL charge you whatever they think they can get away with. Do a test drive of the actual car, and then sit down with all the paperwork and make sure everything is to your liking, which leads to...

6b. BE PREPARED TO WALK. If they add extras, bait and switch, put fishy stuff in the fine print, you get up, shake their hands, thank them for their time, and walk away. PSYCH yourself up for this possibility. You buy a car once every few years, they sell them day in and day out. They are pros, and if you get a slimey one you may feel trapped into buying something. You can always walk away. And you should if they do not treat you with respect. That is what makes the internet so wonderful. If you DO walk away, you have two or three other places in your back pocket to go to. All you have lost is a couple hours of your time.

7. TALK TRADE IN. Now??!! Yes, now. This assumes you are getting rid of a car. You don't want to talk trade until the very end, otherwise it will be rolled into everything and you will never really know what you paid for the new one and what you got for the old one. Also, always remember that you are going to get more if you sell it yourself most of the time. There are good reasons not to bother, but you need to figure out what is most important in your situation and go from there.

Happy Shopping!

The Cobbler's Children Have No Shoes

You know how it is. Whatever you do for a living, you are so sick of it when you get home you don't want to be bothered.

Everyone in the family had high speed internet before us. Now part of that was because we lived on a military base that did not offer it, but it was mostly because we did not care to use the computer at home much, after using it all day at work. We finally got it after H was born. Entertainment of any kind close to home had a higher value when we had a little one.

We do all our banking online, and most of our shopping. But we put off getting that second computer, a laptop, for ages and ages. We got it for our Christmas present in 2005. Okay, that was what it was designated as. We actually GOT the thing in the fall of 2007. It is quite modern, a step up from our desktop, which is from 2003 and a bit dated. It also crashed, hard, which finally convinced the reluctant party that really, we need a back up.

I think, finally though, we have been officially dragged kicking and screaming into the modern computing era. We said goodbye to our Sony Trinitron CRT Monitor. It was hard. That monitor has been with us through 3 computers, 4 states, and 5 moves. But really, it was time to upgrade to a flat panel.

Of course, let's be honest here. The biggest reason we upgraded was because the picture was going. Anything on a dark background, like say, oh, my blog, would shake uncontrollably. Even THAT would not have convinced my husband, except for the fact that the same thing happened to the ESPN website.

What Hits The Fan

H-3: FEE FI FO FUM! I smell the blood of an Englishman!
Me: You do? Really?
H-3: No, actually, I think it's just a poopy diaper.

What is it about poo? Why is it so funny? So fascinating? So discussable in public situations? The other night we are walking around one of those stores that you need a card to get into and a freight truck to get out of. I needed some baking sugar, and purchased it in the smallest bag they had, ten pounds.

H-3: Mama, what is that?
Me: It's a sack of sugar.
H-3: NO! Silly Mommy!
Me: Really, it is.
Daddy: I think it is a sack of sucre!
H-3: No, silly Daddy! It's a sack of.............POO POO! (insert two children giggling madly).

I suppose I should be grateful she does not know the other word yet.

Her brother is no better. Sometimes we let him hang out in a pair of cotton trainers, since he is prone to rashes. A couple months ago my downstairs stack ran out, so I had to run upstairs to get more. I grabbed a pencil, my engineer's rule, and some green engineering paper (LOVE that stuff) while I was upstairs since I was plotting out how much it would be to replace our deck surface. I knew where all that was. That is ALL I did upstairs.

Unfortunately, I forgot that time moves at different speeds in different levels of the house when you leave you not mobile baby on a different level. Nakey butt. Have I mentioned that poo is really facinating? Have I mentioned that what E-1 lacks in verbal precociousness he more than makes up for in determination and creativity? Had it been finger paint on paper, it would have been an impressive bit of art work for a 6 month old.

Please tell me that at least girls grow out of this.

Name That Tune

Irreverence is a fact of life here. So is singing. This leads to some interesting musical moments. Our making dinner song, for example, is this little number from the first season of the Muppet Show. It has also become our veggie aisle song in the grocery store, which is a story for another time.

Songs that are fairly standard kid friendly bits are never left alone. Now, just so you know, *I* don't go ruining any of the classics. That is my husband's job. My daughter is completely convinced that the one about the rodent running up and down a large timepiece ends not with 'Hickory Dickory Dock' but with 'IntoTheMouthOfTheCat.'

Yeah, I am still waiting for the call from preschool on that one.

One thing I will admit to is changing the words to the songs from middle school. You know, those songs you did not let your teacher or parents hear you singing. I know it is not my best parenting moment, but hey, what else ya gonna do when your sweetie, a dedicated streaker, has fallen so in love with her new jammies that she wants to wear them to the playground. And so, without further ado, our version of 'Bedtime Hymn of the Republic.'

Oh I wear my shorts and T-shirt in the summer when it's hot.
And I wear my pink pa-jammies in the winter when it's not.
And sometimes in the spring, and sometimes in the fall,
I slip between the sheets with nothing on at all.

One Year

A year ago today, not far from where I sit, my darling baby boy was born. I cannot believe a year has passed, and E-baby is baby no more.

Happy birthday, E-1.

The Longest Day...

...so far, ever, is the 24 hours the Poison Control Center said to 'just monitor him closely.'

We had recently arrived at our hotel room after a longish drive to a beach vacation. I had half a headache, and opening the door to the overpowering smell of cleaning solutions and air freshener tipped me directly into migraine country. After starting the process of airing out the room a bit, scouting out the usual hazards (electrical cords, outlets, trash bags) and getting settled, H-3 asked if she could have one of the candies left on the night stand. We said okay, and she opened it and popped it in her mouth. Somehow, even though she was just sitting there while she ate it, she managed to swallow it whole. She was fine, scared and her throat hurt, but fine.

She and Daddy headed for the front desk for a restaurant recommendation, I lay on the bed and put E-baby on the floor where I could see him with stuff to play with. My head was pounding so bad that standing upright just was not possible at that point. He crawled along the base of the bed and out of my sight, and I expected him to emerge on the other side. He paused for a minute, then started crying and making weird noises. I rolled over to the edge and noticed something on his shirt, I thought it was a button.

It was a tablet. Wet and slightly dissolved, he had obviously stuck it in his mouth then spit it out when the nasty taste hit. So instead of dinner recommendations we got directions to the nearest ER. We did not end up actually going, we called Poison Control on the way and they recommended monitoring him.

He's fine, I have laid off myself a little with the Mommy guilt, and we ended up having a pretty decent little trip. And a new number on our speed dial.

Before and After

Before Kids:

Find cool brownie recipe online. Print it out. Preheat oven. Mix together brownies. Place in oven. Throw together crock pot chili recipe while brownies are cooking. Retrieve brownies from oven a few minutes after chili is cooking away in the crockpot. Go on with the day.

After Kids:

Find cool brownie recipe online. Print it out. Pop in video for toddler, nurse baby. Take shower and get dressed, because baby is asleep and toddler is busy and this will be your one and only chance. Melt chocolate, change baby diaper, put baby on back in an Ergo because he is fussing. Defrost burger you forgot to put out the night before due to lack of sleep. Tell toddler yes she can play with water if she stays on the porch near the door. Put baby in doorway because toddler makes him laugh. Preheat oven, mix together rest of brownies, put in oven. Start burger browning. Check on toddler. Turn off stove under burger. Take off toddler's clothing on porch, spray her off with the hose since she interpreted 'you can play with water' as 'you can mix the water with your ultra bright sidewalk chalk and then body paint with it.' Take toddler in house, tell her to stand on wood floor while you go get washcloth and clean clothes. Get washcloth and clean clothes. Retrieve toddler from carpet, clean her up and have her put on new clothes. Clean carpet with mini steamer. While you have it out, clean the spot from the accident she had 4 days ago that your husband did not clean up and did not tell you about until last night. Retrieve brownies from oven. Brown burger, throw in crock pot. Add tomatoes and spices. Make toddler lunch. Chop onion. Saute onion with right hand, with your back facing the stove. Hold baby in left arm and nurse him again. Add onions to crock pot and turn on. Find lid to crock pot. Convince baby to let go of nipple so you can reach crock pot lid without causing bodily injury. Put lid on crock pot. Go on with the day.

Food Poisoning

No, not that kind. The allergic-to-this-or-that food kind. Now, food allergies have always been a part of this family. Everyone has something. But they were all minor and avoidable thing, like oranges or cashews. Nothing that encroached on everyday life.

And then came E-Baby. Milk. Maybe Eggs. Who knows what else. All delivered to him through my milk. In the process of figuring this out, I have eliminated a bunch of things from my diet: Wheat, soy, corn, eggs, dairy, shellfish, peanuts, tree nuts, oranges. He finally seemed to clear up completely after about 4 weeks. Testing has NOT gone well. I tested eggs first, thinking that was not it. Well, I think now I was wrong. Poor boy is just clearing his system a week later.

What causes food allergies? Is better medical care preventing children that would have died from this in the past alive? Is our increasingly poisoned earth making our bodies more reactive to everything? Is the practice of feeding the majority of (American) infants with artificial baby milk making us sick? Is it vaccines, antibiotics, sedentary lifestyles? Or has this always been, and we are just now at a point in human history that we can stop asking 'how much food' and we can start asking 'which food'?

We are testing wheat this weekend. Wish me luck. DH is Catholic...

Longing

Parenthood and I introduced ourselves to each other when I was in my early thirties. I was never in a hurry. I went to college, married, did more college, worked. J and always wanted kids, but felt maturity and experience would make us better parents. We were right about that, by the way. We were always comfortable with the number two. It is what we know. It is what we feel is responsible, both personally and in the sense of passing on this world to future generations. H-2 and E-baby, so we are done.

And I long for more.

I want to make love knowing. I want that stick to turn color. I want the happy tears stinging my eyes the first time I hear the heart beat. I want a toddler nursing, or not, around my ever expanding middle. I want evenings spent picking two names. I want my husband's and my eyes locking and have us both feel, KNOW, that this is the day. I want that beautiful, tiny creation sliding into the world and onto my belly. I want the dance that is nursing with a new partner, perhaps this time with the old partner still taking turns on the floor. It calls me, powerfully.

How many would be enough? Will I every stop longing?

Joy

On the first of October, at 1:13 pm, Baby E entered the world. He did so at home, on the bed that his father and I share. The birth was attended and assisted by a very proud Daddy, our midwife R, and our birth attendant H. He was 8.75 lb, and 20.75 inches long.

I am struck by the contrasts of a hospital birth and a home birth. H2 was born in a hospital, with much of the accompanying intervention typical for the area. Most of these were unwanted, forced on us by mediocre hospital staff who cared only about what was easiest for them. Ridiculous things, like an episiotomy to birth a less than 7 pound baby because that is just how it is done. I wonder how much is also the hospital wanting to make money. I did not hold H2 for at least an hour, the doctor needed to repair the damage and his time was far more important than us. Recovering even partially from that birth took weeks, and complete physical and emotional recovery took months. Our joy rested solely with the amazing little girl our love and God's grace had granted us.

This time, love and caring surrounded the labor and birth. I drank, ate, showered, bathed, sat, stood, walked, cried, yelled, laughed. I was constantly reassured that everything was okay, that the baby and I were doing just fine. And when E joined us, he came out gently, causing barely a scratch. He laid on my chest until, a good long time later, I felt the desire to get a shower. Daddy got him then, and only after everyone was clean, well fed, and comfy did the weighing and measuring start. This happened right on the bed too. Big sister came home from the neighbor's house and crawled into bed, to cuddle us and meet her little brother. In fact, E did not leave our bed until I felt like coming downstairs the next day. Our joy was spread throughout the experience, extended to our whole family and the dear people who assisted us.

If only our country could come to its collective senses and make sure that this type of birth was available for any woman who wants it...

Poor, Neglected Blog

Prolific I'm not. At least not at the keyboard. Yes, we have gutted 2 rooms and redone them, have a third in process, painted two more, and, oh yeah, I have a baby due in less than two weeks, but hey isn't that what everyone spends their summer doing?

Anyway, the crazy pregnant decorating lady is just about done with interior design. So hopefully the computer and the sewing machine will get a bit of attention in the next couple of weeks. Unless, of course, the baby comes early. . .

Ezzo, Ezzo Everywhere

It is officially Ezzo week, many thanks to Tulip Girl for bringing so much good information to light. I wanted to take some time to discuss several things about BabyWise and the Ezzo method that have bothered me for a very long time.

I need to preface this by pointing out that we never even considered using Ezzo's methods to raise our children. One of the advantages of coming late to the parenthood party is that you get to see how the other folks that have been there are doing. The Ezzo method is quite popular in the military community, so we watched quite a few families using it. And everything we saw convinced us that BabyWise was not wise, not in the least. I did read the books from a morbid sense of curiosity. I just had to know what it was that was so attractive to so many, especially when it was obvious that it really was not working. I honestly still do not get the attraction. The books are poorly written, contradictory, and seem designed to make a parent feel like a failure. Why do parents pay good money and follow something like that, when so much sadness can result?

There is the faith thing, at least for me. We are a 'mixed' religion family. I am Lutheran, my husband is Roman Catholic. Gary Ezzo has nary a kind word for the Catholic religion. While I certainly disagree with many of the Catholic Church's teachings, I do so respectfully. And I also see that I agree with far more than I disagree with, and find that I have much common ground with my Catholic brothers and sisters in Christ. Why would those whose religion is belittled by Mr. Ezzo take his advice on parenting?

What about following the path of someone who is a successful parent? By most accounts, the Ezzos have two adult daughters. Neither daughter has a good relationship or significant contact with the elder Ezzos. I don't know about other people, but I hope to have a strong relationship with my children permanently. I don't think the job of parent ends. Some may say that the current situation has nothing to do with the way the Ezzo girls were parented as babies, but really, how do we know? Why are people willing to take that chance?

All this is nibbling around the edges of what REALLY bothers me. The harm caused by the Ezzo method to many families is well documented. A small sampling of this harm can be found at www.ezzo.info. Yet the Ezzos and their defenders explain it all away. Comments like 'oh they followed it too literally' or 'oh that is not what BabyWise says' or 'oh come on, you can't blame a book for bad parenting' are thrown about. HELLO!! Can we think about this here? If you were hooking up your new dvd player would you accept an instruction book that could not be taken too literally? If the person teaching you how to ride a bike gave you contradictory information, is it your fault that you, being inexperienced, did not know which advice to take? If you were trying to learn geometry, and you studied hard, did everything the book said to do, did all the homework exactly how you were supposed to, but failed miserably, would you accept that it must have been your fault alone? Come on, that is ridiculous. No one would accept these sorts of arguments in any other aspect of their lives, why does anyone accept it from an instruction book on parenting?

Maybe it is because I am a scientist, but to me if a method has a high failure rate, you look at the problem with the method. This is even more true when some of the failures are catastrophic. But in Ezzoland, all success is credited to the method, and all failure is blamed on the practitioner. That is not where I want to live as a parent, and it is not where I want my children to live either.

While you were sleeping

H2 fell asleep in my arms tonight. This is not a regular occurrence. She is deciding that she is too big for all of that. The question is, am I?

In her short life, I have stayed home, worked part time, worked full time, and moved 2600 miles. Maybe I should not be surprised that at just over 2, she seems so old. And of course there is the whole becoming a big sister soon thing. She wants a little sister. Named Bob.

So here I sit, while you sleep. I don't know where all of this will lead, when or how or if I will go back to working for a paycheck. How, exactly, I feel about all of it. For now, I have found my way home, and I am going to stay a while.