going out, outnumbered

Going out when you are outnumbered by your children is a big deal. For me, anyway. Sometimes I see moms at the mall or a restaurant with 3, 4...6 children (yes, I live in Utah...SIX children to ONE mom) and I am shocked that they are capable of being out in public with that many kids. A one-to-one ratio works really well for me. Two-to-one is about my max.

And I was reminded of that tonight as I headed out solo (Scott was working) to meet some friends for dinner at the Porcupine.

I had about 30 minutes to get the kids changed into their going-out clothes and get to the restaurant. I started with Sloane. Changed clothes into new super-cute outfit. Changed diaper. Re-did hair into darling ponytails. Sent her off to play. Check. Feeling like Super Mom.

Now for Tagg. Changed clothes into new super-cute outfit. (well, gym pants and a hoodie because it's the end of the week and I need to do laundry. But he did look cute.) Re-did hair into cute spikey thing. Sent him off to play.  Check. Where is my cape?!

Re-stock diaper bag. Added in as many distraction, restaurant suitable toys and books as possible, bibs, diapers, wipes, shi-shi's (binkies), milk in sippy cups. Check. 5 minutes ahead of schedule. I RULE!

Start to put Sloane in car...sniff. sniff. NOOOOO!!!! Change diaper, again. While changing diaper, a messy situation that requires both hands at all times, she pulls out cute ponytails. Really?! Really? Finish diaper change, wash hands, re-dress in super cute outfit. Re-do hair AGAIN in cute ponytails. While re-doing Sloane's cute ponytails, Tagg squirts hairspray into his eye. Tears. Screams. Drama. Eye flushing. Sloane is emptying every drawer in the bathroom and putting lipstick on her shoes.

And, finally, 15 minutes late...we are off to dinner. My Super Mom status has been suspended, although nobody completely flipped out at dinner or threw food (although Tagg did kind of pants some guy at the next table) so I may be back in the running...as long as pants-guy doesn't talk.

And that, my friends, is why you never go out to a restaurant when you're outnumbered.

oatmeal?

I ate oatmeal for the first time in like 30 years on Monday. Why, you ask? Me too! I have heard a lot of great things about Forks Over Knives, which promotes a more vegetarian lifestyle. Friends I know who have recently tried it are impressed by the weight loss, the health benefits and, most interestingly, that it's not really that hard to not eat a bunch of meat and processed food crap. So I figured, what the hell? I'll try it. I'm not planning to go overboard here but let's just say that in the 3 days I've been a purt-near vegetarian, I haven't had to take a single Imodium (which I take enough to call "Vitamin I") and I haven't felt nutritionally deprived. At all. As a matter of fact, I may make this oatmeal my new dessert  go-to. It's that good!

chocolate love

There's this cute little bakery that I drive by every day called The Chocolate. I love the sign. The "dessert cafe" is in a little old brick house on a major suburban thoroughfare, surrounded by new-fangled big businesses with stucco storefronts and neon signs. And there never, ever seems to be a car in the parking lot. I love it, even though I've never been in. They could be serving Hostess cupcakes for all I know, and yet I want it to succeed so badly! A cute little non-chain restaurant in the Utah suburbs that makes it?! No way.

So on my way home on Valentines Day, I impulse stopped in to buy some dessert-y thing. Because I wanted to contribute to their success. Because I was having manufactured-holiday guilt and felt like I needed to do more for the kids than contribute to their college funds. Because, and let's be honest, I wanted some chocolate.

Photo courtesy of The Chocolate dessert cafe website. Uh. Yummy.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that their confections were more delicious than I expected. And they do cake by candlelight? I might be in love.

Speaking of "in love," I have to share some stories about my fantastical husband. Every Valentine's Day, we both swear that we're not going to go overboard or do anything epic to celebrate the day. And then we do anyway. It's just a matter of who gets to the one-upping first.

The Clinchers. I can water-ski for DAYS with these things!
Just like Mama-hama, my hero.

Scott left a card and chocolates - the cheap Wal-Mart kind - in my car. It was kind of an "I love you, and I want to commemorate our belief in the commercial, hollow-ness of this day." Totally loved it. Even though I'm on a perpetual diet. So, of course, I have a card and a little special gifty of a romantic nature for him later in the evening. And then he double-surprises me with...water-ski gloves! Just like the ones I borrow from his mom every single ski trip. I love them and I love that he knows the perfect gift for me. And I love that he one-ups me on holidays in the most perfect ways. Even if his gift-wrapping skills leave a little to be desired.

love notes

I am not a huge fan of Valentines Day. Very un-girlie, I know. It just seems so manufactured and forced. Not that I wouldn't love some flowers or a little romantic dinner somewhere, don't get me wrong. I would just rather get a bouquet of tulips on a random Tuesday in May or have a lovely dinner out for no particular reason without seven billion other people celebrating romance because they're supposed to. Bah humbug!

The one thing I do love about Valentines Day is thinking about love. Being reminded how much love there is in my home, in my life, in the world. Loving love.

I was reminded of the love fest today when I opened the mailbox and there was a red envelope addressed to our family, postmark West Virginia. It was a Valentines card sending hugs and smiles...and love our way. From one family to another. To me, the best thing about open adoption is being able to share that love and caring. Across the miles and the months. I know that someday my children will have this tender history of the love that brought them to us and keeps us close to their birth families' hearts.

As usual, I am running a few days behind in getting my cards out. Doesn't seem to matter how early I start, I always end up late somehow. But I love the handmade cards we made for the kids' birth families. Their watercolor art is unique, special and beautiful with the drips and streaks —Tagg's are intense and bold and organized; Sloane's are arbitrary, free, delicate. I love them so much it's hard for me to be unselfish and send them off. A poignant reminder of the special gift that we were given. Maybe that's why I waited till the last minute to post them. So off these little masterpieces of love go, families joined by little hands and little hearts.

Maybe I am a fan of Valentines Day after all.

christmas kitchen nightmare 1

We have officially lived in our house for 10 years. I have officially hated our cabinets and countertops for about 8 of those years. The first two, I was just happy to have my own non-rented kitchen so it didn't matter so much. Plus we were never home and when we were, the counters were usually covered with...stuff.

It is now time to update this kitchen. Especially if Scott's prediction that we will "die in this house" has a shot in hell of coming true. I am not living with apartment-grade crap oak cabinets and gray Formica till I die. I have my standards.

Demolition meet inspiration. We have to figure out our official plan ASAP.
Where is the tape? And the vision?

We have been debating the future configuration of our new kitchen for a long time. And, frankly, I was the hold-up. I just couldn't decide what the best set-up would be for our new kitchen so it was impossible to commit to things like granite and cabinet colors and styles. And then, one day, we moved the kitchen table to simulate a big giant island and wah-lah! We had a plan! You can't really see it from here but we got it under control!

I really don't know what to do with this star. I kind of want to keep it
even though EVERYONE has one now. It's a reminder of my cutting-edge design skills.
The crap on the counters? That's all Scott.

It was like we realized how we actually use our kitchen. No matter what, everyone hangs around the center, the heart, the island. Dinner, parties, cooking. Doesn't matter. Everyone gravitates to the center of the kitchen. So we are building a big, giant island where we can gather as a family. And we booted the pool table from the front room, in spite of the fact that the kids love to "play balls" on it. That was looking like a recipe for a broken front window as they get older. So the dining room table will be in the front room so we can gather as a bigger family for holiday dinners or Sunday dinners or random weekday dinners. Or for game nights or craft nights or whatever. We may need to add some lights out there or our dads will cheat more than usual at cards and blame the low-light. Guys, we are soooo on to you on this one!
And, just for a little added pressure, we started this process December 1st. December 1st! TWENTY THREE DAYS before Christmas. We have our 11th annual Christmas Eve-Eve party on December 23rd where we take donations for the Road Home, and we get to hang with our people before they get sucked into family stuff and we never see them again.

The Girls at a Christmas Eve-Eve Party. New background in the works!

We will be done with Phase One in 16 days. Technically, today is Day 6, the day we picked our granite, bought cabinets, finalized the island design, sent the just-sold pool table to its new home, elevated the kitchen table to a dining room table, and started demolition on the kitchen. 18 days to Christmas. 17 days to party. Crazy work schedule. This is not lost on me. But I think we can do it. We rock when we're on a deadline! Stay tuned! And wish us luck. Or send help and booze. We'll probably need both.

This is how we are surviving the next two weeks.
It's this or no Xmas presents, Santa crap. Life is rough, kids.

And don't worry, if you haven't been invited to the Christmas Eve-Eve party it's only because we have to decide how many additional workers we need. We'll be in touch. :-)

the little things

I got a little note from Paulie tonight that was a big deal to me. I am a little weepy about it. I had posted a preview of some family holiday photos that we had done a few weeks ago on Facebook. Not gonna lie, they're pretty cute. Stinking adorable. Mostly because our kids are darling and our photographer is amazing. Maybe we're not so bad either.

So Paulie Facebook-messages me cuz that's how you do it these days and says, after letting me know he's almost done with finals (good boy):

"i just looked at some of the christmas pictures gosh he is getting soooooo handsome and sloan is just gorgeous you guys look like the perfect little family =] makes me the happiest person in the world"

That right there is the beauty of open adoption. You get to share all of this stuff, this great love, these perfect moments...these children, in a way that is so incredibly special and shocking and unique and wonderful. My heart is so full of love right now. We are all the perfect little family.

care

We went to see Kid Rock on Saturday night. Total last-minute thing but I love Kid Rock. Like love, love. His songs have been Lake Powell soundtracks for years and you just don't get over that stuff.

In a little drama moment, my online ticket purchase transaction did not go through so at the last minute we ended up in a parking lot at a seedy truck stop meeting someone named CannedAss (Candace. Get it?) to exchange 250 bucks for 5 general admission tickets. Felt like a drug deal. Seriously.

So we get to the concert at Saltair and it's...insane. Packed. People were angry and pushing, probably trying to get to the bar. And then we went downstairs to actually "see" the concert and dance and it was a little the same but also amazing.

Obviously love hearing my favorite songs....Cowboy, All Summer Long and, of course, Bawitdaba. I don't even know what that means but I love it. But even better, I love the whole concept of this tour.

Just before the main song, "Care," Kid (we're apparently on a first name basis) said "We're here to appreciate the love of music, not the money.

So we're giving most of the money from this tour to charities in every city, because that's how we do it in Detroit. We take care of our own. We are not left or right, us or them. We are Americans and we are in this together. And we may not be able to do everything we want to make everyone good but the least we can do is...care. So dance and sing and share what you can. And care. Just care." I'm sure I didn't get it exactly right but the sentiment is dead on. And that's pretty cool. Especially for a white cowboy rapper type from Detroit (is that even a thing?) who is oddly sexy if not traditionally hot (hey, how many of you have been married to Pam Anderson? Shut it!), borderline talented (I'm channeling that from the internet buzz because I think he's amazing and I'm tone deaf), and uber-wealthy but eager to share as much of his earnings as possible.

It made me think. And care. There was a woman in the bathroom trying to get her friend to the front of the line because she was going to puke. Nice try. I was cranky and waiting in line when I really, really had to pee and I was not very charitable. Sure, I let her cut but I was not happy about it. As I was leaving the bathroom I noticed a red-headed young woman janitor cleaning up puke and paper and crap. And I thought about how horrible her job was but she would do anything to get money to feed her kids, keep a roof over their heads, whatever. So I tipped her every cent I had in my pocket, which was about 20 bucks. And I swear, when I looked back she had tears in her eyes. I'm guessing she wasn't weepy about the money, I'm sure, but because somebody cared. And they didn't care about where they were in the beer line, or who pushed by them to get to the front or the back of the concert, or whether they could see from where they were, but because somebody cared about the people who made a night of fun and enjoyment happen.

And that is what it's all about, right? Caring. Sharing. Dancing. Singing. Living. Loving.

Never thought I'd have that epiphany at a Kid Rock concert. Very grateful that I did.