Ice Cream For Breakfast Day 2015

Week's Highlights

Andy's Birthday Party went off without a hitch despite the snow.

The kid that plows the driveway was awesome and showed up many many times to clear the driveway for me.

Actually, during the storm I got a lot of help from a number of people. I was going to write about it here, but really, it deserves its own post...

My backyard is beautiful in the snow.

Birthday Party

Last weekend we finally had Andrew's Birthday Party.

Andy was born on December 17th. It's a horrible time of year to have a birthday party. Everyone is fraught with holiday tension, schedules are crammed with holiday parties, and because of all this the party planning really needs to start before Thanksgiving. It never does.

Last year none of the boys had a birthday party, so this year I promised. It's just that we had to pick dates that were a little later than the actual birthdays. Because of Christmas, basketball games... things like that.

These days parties get ridiculous. They're all at movie theaters, laser tag, arcades. The simplest party invites 8 people for $300, and you still have to bring your own cake. It's great if you can afford it because you don't have to worry about the pizza.

But I decided not to go all out.

Steve came over and set up the playstation on the big screen in the den.

Andy had a guest list of 7 people.

We bought an ice cream cake at the market basket.

I ordered pizza to be delivered.

It snowed 8 inches and three kids cancelled.

But the four that showed up had a great time.

This is how I'm doing all of my kids' parties. The boys had a blast. They hung out and did what kids do and I didn't need to do much of anything except clean my house and worry about folks getting up and down the driveway.

Nate's birthday party is in 2 weeks. We're doing this. I'll figure out if 3rd graders are as great as the 1st graders. But so far Nate only wants 5 kids...

High Lights of the Week

I tried to think of a catchy phrase for this type of post, and that's the best I could come up with.

So, I tend to get a little down. I sometimes let the season's cold and grey weather get to me. And with the stress of working and trying to be a good parent, I tend to fall into a horrible cycle of self-criticism and too many cookies.

But a lot of great things happen, too. And this is where I'm going to post them. In a weekly recap.

 - A little girl in the church's children's choir gave me an unsolicited hug for no reason, and for a moment I remembered back when I didn't have my own children and could connect with them in a different way because I wasn't someone's mommy.

 - A friend of mine volunteered to watch my kids on Martin Luther King Day. And she told me my kids were awesome. And they are.

 - My bed is so comfortable. And my sheets are so flannel. And they are so clean.

 - I caught Andy singing the Pirate Jenny song from Three Penny Opera. I mean, how awesome is that? Then we all had an in depth conversation about Mac The Knife, and how he might be different from Jack The Ripper

Bury The Lead

So, Steve is seeing someone.

People I've told have asked me how I feel about it. I'm not sure what exactly I'm supposed to feel, but the way they ask always makes me think they're fishing to see if I'm jealous. I am not at all jealous, and that is the truth. I'm actually happy for Steve and glad he's found someone to spend times with, and as far as he goes I couldn't care less about the person he ends up with. Where I do have concerns is where my children come into contact with her.

See, I'm not a great snooper, but I did kind of get online and snoop around some photos on Facebook until I managed to find what I'm pretty sure is her profile. I know. I know I'm terrible. And she seems like a pretty normal, non-mean, nice person, and knowing that makes me feel justified in my little spy mission.

It's a big step, introducing a significant other to your kids. I know some people don't think twice about it and proceed as usual, letting their kids meet dates willy nilly, but our kids are young and they get attached to people. Both Steve and I wanted to be sure anyone we introduced them to would be around for awhile.

But it's getting harder and harder. Because introducing them to the person I'm seeing would make it much easier to see him. And I guess this is my way of formally announcing that I'm seeing someone. His name is Jason, and I like him a lot. I'm trying not to be too impulsive, but I like him a lot. He's been incredibly sweet, thoughtful, and helpful. We just need to hang on to the next step... and we're not quite there yet. It's hard to keep a poker face when all you want to do is grin and shout from the rooftops.

Resolutions - 2015

This new year, I resolve to...

loose weight
get back in shape
dress better
take better care of my skin
keep a cleaner house
buy less stuff
keep up with the laundry more
eat better food
read more books
take more baths
breathe more deeply
help more people
spend more time with my kids
prioritize kids over cleaning
play more games with the boys
in a messy house
eating pizza and ice cream and fried apples
and maybe drinking wine

Sunday Reading

I Would Like Some Wine

I don't really think that title needs any further elaboration, do you?

It's self explanatory.

But I shall not, because I have self control. And because I need to get up in the morning. And because I'm too darn tired to drag myself out to whatever store one goes to and purchase said wine.

Of course, I also want ice cream.

Ice cream is also full of calories. If I had ice cream, I would also feel guilty, same as the wine. I wouldn't get drunk, though. Which is a plus. Or a drawback, depending on how you look at it. Still, Ice cream is tasty and wonderful and maybe I could talk myself into going to the store for that.

Then again, as long as I'm going out anyway, and as long as I'm at the store... well, the wine is Right There. I could pick up a bottle, as I'm out anyway. A bottle of something dry, to pair with the ice cream.

So now I've gone from being strong and healthy and all denying the bad stuff and eating cucumber slices to having wine and ice cream.

But I don't care because at least I'm happy. And slightly drunk.

Ch-ch--ch-changes...

This summer have been more relaxed than the rest of the year.

The reason? I'm letting go. I'm changing it up.

I let the boys take July off of karate. It sounds minor, but it is costly for 3 boys. Also, that's a lot of time that is usually spent at the dojo now spend here, at the house, making dinner, tidying up, and just talking to the boys about their day.

I stopped making the boys practice piano. Nate won't be taking piano in the fall - he's going to do the violin. Nick will be taking violin AND flute. Andy will still be doing piano - I still haven't worked out the details. But I haven't made him practice for weeks.  There's no fighting about it, no struggling to find time to do it.

Sometimes, when I'm having a particularly difficult day, I put on a TV show for us to watch during dinner. We watch an episode of Dr. Who, or part of a movie... once, an episode of Arrested Development. It seems so horrible, right? I mean, this goes against everything I've been taught, everything I believe. It's the HUGEST no-no. We're supposed to sit and talk and have healthy foods. Not eat grilled cheese while laughing about banana stands.  But somehow we aren't having a bad time. It seems to work.

Also, I don't cook dinners anymore. I used to make a THING every day. Steak or chicken, a vegetable... These days I'll cook a "dinner" a week. And then the rest of the time I'll make eggs, hot dogs, french toast. Or sandwiches, mac 'n cheese, a quick pasta. I cook broccoli in the microwave or put out carrot sticks. It's quicker. It's cheaper. We're good.

Sometimes, even though we're in a rush and have things we need to do, like sleep, we just stretch out on my bed and surf the net for Weird Al videos, or research Portal, or play silly computer games or look at old photos.

All this makes it sound like we just lounge about. But that's not true either. I used to see dinner as a line drawn in the day - after dinner, the day was done. Everything else had to be done beforehand. But twice I've given the boys dinner and then packed them in the car for errands. No place very exciting - once to CVS and once to Target. The reality is, I don't want the sitter to have to stay an extra hour just so I can pick up eggs and deodorant. Also, more time with boys. And who says we can't do these things? What is it that makes them so horrible?

It's OK. It can work. If I just relax about it and don't worry about it, life is going to be fine.

Terrible Horrible No Good etc. Day

I had the worst day.

My kids say that all the time. "This is the worst day of my LIFE!" Usually this cry is in response to my taking away screen time. Or declaring that 3 hours is enough screen time. Or saying it's time to practice violin.

In any case, I laugh at the boy who says this because it's an over reaction.

I had the worst day.

Not the worst day of my life. But just, The Worst.

It involved an argument with Steve. In our driveway. In front of our children. Before work / school. So much fun, right? I don't often write about arguments with Steve, but you know, we are getting a divorce, and they do happen. I regret the fact that the argument took place, but not anything I said. Perhaps the timing. But not the substance. And I'm still angry.

The babysitter is ill and had to cancel for the 2nd day in a row. Actually, she asked me if we could play it by ear, but call me crazy, I'm not comfortable with that. I like to know who is going to pick up my child from school before I leave for work.

I showed up at work stressed and blotchy faced. My co-workers were in unusually high spirits. Not a good mesh.

Work was... work. I didn't bring my A game. At the end of the day my back had started hurting. I must have hurt something while working out, or those shoes I wore are not good for standing.

And there are other things. Stupid things. A guy I like basically let me know he wasn't interested. I was surprisingly let down for someone who didn't think she was all that interested. All this culminated in the realization that I simply liked the conversation because I've been lonely. Before Steve I had my friends. My friends are now far far away with their own families, and I find myself watching them all have mini-reunions through facebook photos and wondering how I'm no longer in touch. I don't even know how to make new friends.

Do I sound sorry enough for myself? What do you think? Could I whine a bit more? More of a nasal quality to the font?

By 9pm I was wiped. Exhausted. Sad. But oddly motivated to get back on my diet of healthy foods, to do yoga (for my back and flexibility) and to take life where I have it. It's like when the house gets messier and messier because you can't start the job of cleaning it, and then you finally snap. Only my life is the house. Which isn't to say that one of the things I'm motivated to do isn't fix up the house a bit. I'm all over it. I'm all over lots of things. I'm ready. Bring it.

It's Not a Comeback, It's a Return

OK, so I went away.

I went into hiding because I wished to live more secretly, to front only the essential stress of life, and see if I could not learn what life had to teach and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

Or something. Thoreau said it better.

I took a break.

It was unintentional, at first, but after some thought I realized I actually still have a lot to say. I simply hadn't been saying any of it because it would LOOK BAD.

For a long time I've been writing this blog with some idea of how it would look from the outside. I didn't want to point fingers. I didn't want to hurt feelings. I didn't want to sound too depressed or too callous or too anything that might attract attention because then people would either ask questions or challenge me and I hate being challenged because that requires that I stand up for myself and stand behind my words. I am, quite often in fact, able to stand behind my words, but there are other times where I was just full of hot air caused by a condition called "Being A Passionate Human" and I have absolutely nothing to back me up and I have to admit I'm wrong. While I have no problem admitting I'm wrong, I really really hate confrontation and conflict.

For example, one time my FaceBook Friend Meg made some comment about the Red Sox and the Yankees. I don't usually comment willy nilly on FaceBook, and I especially try to stay away from anything to do with sports, but I made a comment on my friend's post which included the phrase "Yankees Suck." It was tongue in cheek, mostly, because as I said I don't follow sports and I also take exception to putting down another team on a regular basis as a way to cheer your team on.  (FYI - "Yankees Suck" is a phrase many red sox fans use to show their support for the Red Sox. I know, I don't get it either.

Anyway, my one little comment resulted in a huge tirade by some die-hard Yankees fan who cited many statistics in support of his view that the Yankees do NOT, in fact suck. And that the Red Sox might actually be the ones that suck. His comments were long and scathing, and when I tried explaining that I was kind of joking and that I didn't give a flying fig and finally that I didn't actually even understand the statistics he kept flinging out there, He refused to listen and kept ranting about how angry he was about people like me.

People like me.

Yeah.

So.

This happened probably two or three years ago and I still hesitate to comment on things beyond "Oh, your baby is so cute!" and "Happy Birthday!" and then I spend fifteen minutes debating over adding a line about having a piece of cake.

I hate confrontation.

You know what you can't have without confrontation?

A divorce.

So anyway, I've been thinking a lot. I've been thinking that this is one of the more interesting times in my life, and here I am, falling silent. What good does that do anyone?

I've been thinking that I don't really care about offending people anymore, or saying too much, or doing the wrong thing, because I'm not getting a second chance.

So I'm back. My posts may not be a lot more interesting. But I plan on giving this another go-round. I plan on being honest and putting it all out there and if people don't like it, they don't have to read it. It's not like this is the news or a newspaper.

It's ONLY the internet.

Can't Judge a Movie By It's Poster

Friday night is movie night.

It always has been. I've kept the tradition even since Steve moved out, figuring it could be a fun night we all kind of crash out and have screen time together.

It's not exactly the same. I don't have Steve's skill at finding exactly the movie we want, so we need to know what we have before choosing. We still take turns, but we often forget whose turn it is as we don't have turns each weekend anymore.

Last time we had a movie night, it was Nate's turn, and it was Valentine's Day. It was more than 2 weeks ago, because of February vacation. He chose and old Godzilla film, and I had to grit my teeth as the dubbed film went on and on and the boys stared openmouthed at the screen, waiting for monsters.

Tonight was Andy's night.

I showed him what we had available on my Amazon account, and he chose My Dog Skip, because there is a picture of a tiny dog staring at a toilet, and I said "Maybe the dog learns how to use the toilet?" And Bingo, Andy made a choice.

Have you seen this movie? It came out in 2000. The little boy in the movie is almost 30 now. In fact, all the actors are incredibly young. It's a sweet movie with a sweet story. But the boys are a bit cynical. Almost as soon as it started they were talking about how the dog was probably going to get hit by a car. "That always happens in these movies."

As the movie went on, the boys laughed and talked about relationships between the characters in the film. The kids are pretty intuitive about some things. The next door neighbor comes home from the war and is different. "Who do you think might understand him?" I asked. Nate was the one who said the boy's father, who had lost his leg in the war. And it all seemed good.

Until the end.

OK, so, flashback and subject change (kind of.)  When we were kids, my mother got the movie Turner and Hooch. Do you know this one? It had Tom Hanks in it, back before he was Big Tom Hanks and was just Medium Tom Hanks? Anyway, it was about Tom Hanks and a dog. One of them was Turner and the other was Hooch. I don't remember actually watching this movie, so I can't tell you who was who. And SPOILER ALERT! At the end of this movie, I'm pretty sure the dog dies. I think he gets shot. My mother watched this movie with us, and at the end of the movie, she was a gibbering mess. And so was my brother Jamie, who must have been around 8 years old. They cried and cried together, Mom and Jamie, all over this dog from this movie.

So.... My Dog Skip.

I'm about the spoil the movie for you. The dog dies.

But not when you think he's going to die. They make it so you think he's going to die, but then he doesn't. During the time when the little movie boy was crying and we all thought the dog was going to die, Nathan started sniveling. And then Andy started tearing up. And then the movie dog got better, and it looked like it was going to be OK, but then the dog got old and the narrator (Harry Connick Jr.) told us that he died at the old age of eleven.

And then the movie was over.

I went over to give Nate a hug, because he'd started crying. Only when I hugged him he started right out bawling. Nick made a comment and I replied, "It's OK that Nate's crying. It shows that he has feelings and that he's empathetic."

At this, Nate started crying harder.

He cried and cried. Andy was crying, too, at some point. But then he lost interest in crying and decided he was just sleepy. Nathan kept going. After ten minutes I was coated in snot and Nate was making odd wailing noises.

The thing is, I was serious about him being empathetic. Nate gets so wrapped up in his own story and is so easily frustrated that it's easy to forget that stories affect him this way.

One week, he wants Godzilla. The next he's sobbing about a dog. My baby boy. My baby bear.

It's Electric

There have been many changes in my life over the past year. Some are obvious, blunt, and harsh. Others are softer, milder, and more subtle. Or simply waiting to be discovered.

Such as this little graph on my most recent bill from PSNH. Electricity. It's going down.

*By "going down" I was referring to how much I use. Not the cost. Which has not decreased as significantly as this graph might suggest. Which says to me it's all bunk and that the utility companies have us right where they want us. Unless we're willing to drop of the grid entirely. I could turn everything off except for emergencies and still end up paying $100 a month just for the possibility of turning on a lightbulb. Still, I am proud that we aren't using as much.

Orchid

Remember my orchid?

It's blooming again.

Sweet Beginnings

I hate February.

I really really hate it. It's overcast and it's cold and grey, even though by mow I'm ready for spring. January is enough for me. And yet, year after year, February settles itself in between the holiday recovery month and the month of March (which is when Spring begins to appear) with it's bland, cold, icy, self.

Sure, February is a short month. And it's a short month full of things like Valentine's Day, Birthdays of various Presidents, my mother's birthday, and an entire week of school vacation. Not to mention Groundhog Day, and Imbolc (the spring equinox). And a whole month of February is Black History Month, or African-American History Month, depending on how you feel like expressing it.

All respect for these important events and occasions aside, I still hate February.

But today, February 1st, is a little different.

It's Ice Cream For Breakfast Day.

We Celebrated. Even me. I strongly urge you to begin observing this sacred day of over-indulgence. It's Awesome, unexpected, and fun. We've gotten to the point where Nick starts counting down the days.

This morning, as we were navigating our way through melting ice-cream and sticky syrups, I asked the boys if they would celebrate Ice-Cream for breakfast day for ever, from now on.

"Yes!" said Nick. "Unless I get diabetic. Then I'll just do it for my family."

Peace, Joy, and Health

T'was the day before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a mouse.

The sun rose and still
The pets slept without care
'Cause the boys that lived
In the house weren't there.

The mom, she was tired
And not yet done napping,
For very late into the night
She'd been wrapping.

The day stretched ahead
With cleaning and baking,
And would end at the church
With some fun music making.

She'd run back to the house
When that was done
Where her boys would be waiting
Fresh from Christmas Even Fun.

This year is different.
This year is new.
But the message carried
On by this season is true

The days will get brighter.
Up ahead, there is hope.
Remember that, when you're
At the end of your rope.

And today, take a breath.
Let it out. Take another.
While I spell out the things
We all wish for each other.

I wish you all Happiness,
Peace, Joy, and Health.
I wish you all Comfort,
And Spiritual Wealth.

May your Holiday Time
Be full of great cheer,
May Love and Compassion
Be with you this year

Now I have to go,
'Cause on time, I am tight.
Merry Christmas to all,
And to all a Good Night!

Slideshow

OK, so for a little while now I've been all talk and nothing to show for it. Blah blah blah... show us some photos, Kathleen, or we're hanging up on you.

Fine.

Here's the catch: I don't have any new photos of the boys. I'm sorry, but when I'm with them we seem to be either doing stuff, or rushing to get somewhere, and when we're not doing those two things we're either eating or hanging out watching Dr. Who.

I do, however, happen grab my camera every once and awhile to capture other things. Such as...

These cookies I made:

This birthday cake I made for Andrew. Taste the rainbow!:

My broken oven:

The snow that snowed:

Some of my favorite Christmas Ornaments hanging on our tree:

The Third Child And The World

When Andrew was still very small, one of my politically charged FaceBook friends (I have a few) posted a status, or an article, about how couples deciding to have a third child would do better to consider the effect that choice would have on the planet and the destruction of our environment.

I wish I could explain exactly how I felt when I read that. I was... angry. I remember that I wanted to type something, I wanted to say something, to type something, and I couldn't really do it because my hands were shaking and I could remember to keep breathing. It was a very emotional reaction. But I wanted to say something, something not really mean, but something that would show this person, the author of the article, and all of the people who thought this way, how amazingly hurt I was.

Hurt. I was hurt, and I was emotional, and I was angry. Because in my eyes, they were telling me the world was a better place without my child. MY child. My baby. A small human being I devoted my life to, and who I had hopes and dreams and expectations for. And to clarify, none of those hopes and dreams had anything to do with harming the planet.

Yesterday, this friend posted a link to the Thought Catalog's letter to Women Who Choose Not To Have Kids. I didn't bother to read it, honestly,but today he posted that he might do a show (he's a monologist) about population, the environment, and every person's choices about how many children they are going to have.

Again, my hackles went up, but I've had some years to sort through all of the emotions and all of my reactions, so I could better identify what it was, exactly, that I was feeling.

The truth is, even when I read the original article years ago, I knew it had its merits. He was right, he had a point, and the article...  It was referring to the simply math of the situation. We have a planet with limited resources. Each person, simply by existing, uses up a number of these resources. More that two children increases the population, and uses up more of the resources, which have no time (or way) to replenish.

More than that, humans have become reckless about their belongings and their waste. We want everything to be disposable, and as soon as something is thrown out, it's out of mind. Given how the average American person disposes of items for convenience or status, the individual's footprint is growing larger and larger. As generations go on, each baby has more babies, and the population increases exponentially. Resources disappear even faster.

I realized this when Andy was an infant. My awareness of my impact on the environment was growing, and I had an infant in disposable diapers. Plastic sip-cups covered my home, and we had buckets full of plastic and electronic toys that were already broken and of no use to anyone. I made some personal choices and changes to my life to reduce our impact to the planet, choices about how often we used our car, how some of our purchases were packaged, how often we ate meat. I stopped buying things I didn't need, a decision that to this day causes people to think I'm stingy and cheap. These choices were sound choices, I believe, and responsible choices.

But none of that would make up for the fact that I brought into the world this extra person. My parents explained to us, when we were young, that each person born replaced an older person. I was born to 'replace' my mother, and my brother was born to 'replace' my father. Well then, we asked, what about our other three siblings? My parents simply pointed to my mother's unmarried sister and told us they made up for adults who had no children. Now, I knew this didn't add up or the population wouldn't be growing, but I still ticked people off when my kids were born. One for me, two for my husband, and three for... well, none of my four siblings had kids, so I should have been covered. I still felt a measure of guilt. Because, in my mind, what my parents had said was hooey, and the theory that more children meant more strain on the environment was sound.

But it isn't that simple, is it? Because we aren't talking about science, we're talking about people.

Yes, there are many women out there who do not have children. Many of these women actually make this choice not to have children, and I applaud them. There is no reason to have a child if you don't want a child. Please! It's too hard a job to go into reluctantly. And for the record, I feel I should step up here and say something about it always being WOMEN who are the odd ones for not wanting children. I know some men out there who also choose not to have children, but no one calls THEM strange. (Actually, that's no always true. Once I told my brother he was weird for not wanting kids, but I take it back now. Never say I don't admit it when I'm wrong.)

Um... where was I? Yes. Women (people) not wanting to have children. That is an OK choice. Just because I chose something different doesn't mean it's the only way. I can breastfeed and still approve of those who use formula. I can be an atheist and still tolerate those who pray. Just as long as they don't expect me to fess up to making a mistake or admit the error of my ways.

Having a child is a very charged issue. Many couples choose not to have children, but many other couples try very, very hard to have children of their own. They see doctors and have treatments and procedures and spend thousands of dollars on the off chance that they might have their own biological derivative. As baffling as this is to me, they do it, and they do it for a reason. Maybe this is the only way they can have a child. Maybe they can't adopt. Maybe they think they won't love a child if it isn't genetically related. Whatever the reason, it's theirs to have. I'm sure that anyone who has leapt through hoops and put forth such emotional investment would resent their child being described as a burden on the planet.

As would anyone who has lost a child.

We aren't logical with our children. We're emotional. We're primal.

What does this mean?

Well, it isn't just our kids. I mean, when you look at it, we're all burdens on our planet. Some more than others, depending on habits, environment, and how often we buy a new iphone. If we're going to survive, we're going to have to take a look at all of our habits, from how often we use disposable plates, to how often we upgrade our phones, to the reasons we want to have children.

Now, I know a number of families with multiple children. (Hello, I live in suburbia!). I know families with multiple children that would like to have more, some of them having more (the people down the street have 9. Nine. I go slightly crazy thinking about it.) The thing is, these families are wonderful families. The children are wonderful and brilliant and a joy. I believe in the inherent worth and dignity of every person, and that includes each member of the family with nineteen children whose parents just keep on reproducing because that's apparently what God wants. (Maybe God does want that. Maybe God wants the Earth overpopulated? I wouldn't know, I'm not a believer.) Hey, hooray for them. I disagree, but I don't think we could morally put a limit on the number of children a family could have.

But in general, the middle of the sane, reproducing-age population should take a hard look at why they're doing what they're doing. I'm not saying not to go for it. Hey, I did. I had two boys. I wanted a girl. We didn't make a decision to try, we just... stopped trying not to. Now I have three boys. Part of me wanted to keep going. Part of me wanted to try for that girl, and honestly, I can't say that, under different circumstances, I wouldn't have tried a last time.

Because I love babies. I love kids. I've loved kids ever since I was a kid. I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I couldn't tell you what my house looked like or what my husband and I would do on the weekends, but I could tell you that I was going to be A MOTHER. I knew it when I was five. I knew it when I was seventeen and about to go off to college, and spent an hour at a diner staring at a baby wondering why I had to do all this other stuff when all I wanted was that squirmy thing over there. (As a side note, I was really not ready to have a baby at seventeen, and I'm very glad I went to college and went through my 20's first. I would have missed out on a lot of life, and I wouldn't be as good a parent as I am now.)

My point is, I could have more kids. I mean, in my heart, I feel as though I could parent a couple more kids. Not at the moment. At the moment I'm having a hard time remembering what day it is and getting myself in and out of bed. But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm just saying that, at some point in the future, I might possibly decide I could be a parent again. But knowing what I know, I would have to give serious thought to how that child came to be mine.

There are so many options out there, people. There are children out there aching for homes. There are children out there who need temporary homes. If you're trying to fill a gap, there are other options. Especially for that second or third child.

So... this post is very long and convoluted, and I feel I must apologize for that, to some extent. I could sum up: People have many emotions when it comes to babies. It is every person's right to decide if he or she wants to become a parent, and both choices are OK. It is every couples's choice as to how many children they would like to have. It is also our responsibility as humans living and caring for this planet to take into account how our actions and indeed how our very presence affect it. Part of this is re-thinking how we perceive having children and what it means to be a parent.

In the meantime, I refuse to feel guilty about what we have already. I will not regret my children, not for any reason. Asking me to do that would be unfair and evoke all the kinds of emotions that would prevent meaningful discussion. So I will cherish each one of them and teach them what I know. And part of that is to be willing to think about difficult things.

Happy Birthday Andrew

Today, Andrew is 6 years old.

It's not much, turning 6. Kids turn 6 every day. The world doesn't stop turning. But it's still the most extraordinary thing. Both at once.

First of all, it's all Andy's been talking about for weeks. He's been extremely concerned because I hadn't been buying him birthday presents. (I've taken care of it.) He's been bugging me for a party, and I had to explain that we'd have one in January because December was too full already and I hadn't prepared properly. For him, turning Six is about the biggest thing that's ever happened to him, ever.

But for me... Six? Already?

When I started this blog, I was pregnant with Nathan. Andy wasn't even a blip on the radar. I can't imagine my life without my sweet and wonderful boy, but I feel as though he just got here. I am not prepared for the things six means. Bikes without training wheels, first grade, homework... Time just goes by so quickly. I want to grab every second of time with Andy that I can, do it now while he's still small enough to curl up with me in my bed for a nap and play games and help me make PBJ's.

It's not fair, really. He's such a smart kid. He can read. He can ride his bike. He has started drawing all of the time. He's learned so much and accomplished so much and I shouldn't want to discourage that. He's a marvelous boy, and every day he's growing more into the kind of older kid I am proud for him to be.

Happy Sixth Birthday, Darling Andrew!

Thankful List

I spend a lot of time complaining.

I don't mean to. I try not to. But no matter how I try to be optimistic and uplifting, there are always moments of .... "UUUGHHHH!"

Today, though, I had a sudden rush of gratitude and I had the urge to list of the things that I was thankful for throughout the day. Some of the list is remembering what I was thankful for in the morning. Some of it is me anticipating things. Some of these are funny and some are oh, so so very serious and heartfelt.

I am Thankful For:

Coffee

My kids waking up in the morning on their own.

My doctor. Health insurance. The fact that I've had good health care my whole life.

The fact that I'm healthy.

That my kids can all put on their own seat belts.

That my car wasn't the one that broke down in the kindergarten pick-up line.

The guy that pumps my gas and stands out in the cold so that I don't have to.

The kid who mows my lawn.

My yard.

The Republic Of Tea catalogs that come in the mail with free samples.

My friend who is so invested in the children's choir.

Andy, who is so good at entertaining himself each afternoon while I do things.

Our library.

Nick finding karate, because he loves it so much and he's good at it.

Our piano teacher.

The fact that I like to make lists, because they keep me sane. er.

That I have the best boys in the whole world.