Blech!


I am sick. I am pretty sure I have a sinus infection, so I get to go to the doctor tomorrow and wince while he presses on my sinuses and asks, "Does this hurt?" We used to go to the doctor all the time. When the kids were younger, they had everything. Ear infections times 1 billion, strep throat, tonsils out, adenoids out, spider bites, fevers, let's not forget the mumps, rashes, dehydration, and the general well check ups and vaccinations that come along with being a kid. Fortunately for us, it's been a slow year in the medical co-pay department. Gee. I've kinda missed the old doc. I'm happy I get to mix things up a bit.

David asked me how could I possibly know if I had a sinus infection. I asked him what else would make my sinuses feel like they're about to explode in my head. Even my teeth hurt. He has since kept clear of me for fear of my horrible temperamental attitude.

Also, I've tried to get through the whole day without bending over. Bending over hurts my head in ways you cannot imagine. Don't you think that's a clue?

I haven't had much of an appetite today, but then out of the blue I'll get a weird craving for food--like bread slathered in butter. Yes, I mean slathered. Who eats bread slathered with butter for no reason? Slathered is the key word here, folks. It tells me something is up.

It is still so funny to me that my kids don't a) believe me when I tell them I'm sick, or b) don't care when I tell them I am sick. They have the same expectations of me regardless. They want me to juggle, tell jokes, cook their favorite food, and sew costumes--all in 12.4 minutes! Those little stinkers.

So I am putting myself to bed, in preparation of my sinuses getting felt up tomorrow. Nighty night.

The Christmas Tree--2009 Edition

We like to wait until mid-December before we break out the Christmas decor, so Sunday was the day we went to get our Christmas tree. We did something different this year. We drove into the mountains to chop down our tree. The forest service sells $10 permits and gives you a map of areas that are designated for cutting. Our little environmentalist, Lily, was horrified that we would be cutting down some animal's home until we explained that that forest rangers want us to do this to prevent forest fires, which would result in mass destruction of all animal homes and the poor squirrels and birds would be devastated*, and she was mollified. (*yes, we stretched the truth there but it was either that or watch her chain herself to the tree we selected.)

We bundled up and for some reason all wore Santa hats. I wore one, too, which is why there are no photos of me. Here are my little elves.


And big daddy-o. Does he look happy or what?


On the drive up the pass. Who is having the most fun in this photo? The dog, because he has a whole seat to himself.


Walking in to choose a tree. In a fine family moment, Lily is hitching up her snow pants. That girl's waist is the size of a toothpick and she spends a lot of her waking moments pulling up her pants.

We were not looking for the perfect tree. To be honest, when you cut down a tree in the mountains they're all a little sparse in the "branches department". We went for height, because we have huge vaulted ceilings in our living room.

I don't know if it's legal to post this photo. Carver is wielding an axe. He was VERY proud of himself because he chopped the tree down all on his own.

Triumph! He was a huge help

Lily helping.

Zinabu helping.

The piney woods. It was a gorgeous day.

The final product at home.

This tree is huge. Almost 12 feet. It is gangly and dorky, kind of like our family so it's actually a perfect fit. What I love about it is that every time we look at it we think of our shared experience of cutting it down and spending the afternoon together. You can't beat that.

Recently Overheard

Me: Zinabu, I still can't believe you're 6 years old. Do you feel like you're 6?

Zinabu: What do you think, Mom? I can eat 2 hamburgers!!!

It's Really Cold


See that number on the bottom of our thermostat? Minus 12 degrees. The big storm that is attacking most of the country came through Colorado from Sunday through Tuesday. And the temperatures have not been kind. We've had a lot of snow (which I love) and bitter cold (which I thought I was done with when I left Minnesota). The kids and I have loved the snow day and delayed starts. I'm a much better person when I have a slow morning and don't have to make everyone's breakfasts, snacks, and lunches by 6:45 am. But with hunkering down comes cabin fever, plus our 30 Days of Nothing in November, and we haven't been out to do much lately. So I told the kids we would go somewhere fun after school. Somewhere warm. Which resulted in the following:





Indoor mini-glow golf. For reasons I can't explain my children love this place. It gives me a headache. It also gives me a chance to examine all the lint on my clothes that shows up under that black lights.


We got hot chocolate, looked at the mall Santa (who my kids think is hilarious) and played golf. We even snuck in a little shopping time for Nana. I had to steer them away from the glass dolphin they all insisted she would love. I think I convinced them it was breakable and Buddy might eat it. They solemnly nodded their head in agreement and we chose something much more... uh, practical.

I hope you're all staying warm.

Last night I couldn't sleep. I was lying awake--thinking about everything and nothing. And I began to think about Zinabu.

Days lived in Ethiopia = 1300

Days lived in The United States = 900

He has still spent more of his life without us than he has with us. That is mind-boggling to me. It feels like he's been with us forever, and it hurts my heart that he had years without us. True, he was with his biological relatives for those first years, and that is beautiful... but we still mourn the fact that his life has been divided.

On the days that Zinabu pushes me to my limit, when he exhausts me (ok, like every day) I often wonder what he would be like in Ethiopia. Would he be as loud? Would he talk all the time like he does here? Would he collapse into bed each night from sheer exhaustion? What would his favorite food be if it wasn't blackberries? Would he hate being told "no" the same way he does now?

I'll never know... but I love him lots. I can't wait until we can celebrate the fact that he's been with our family longer than anyone else.

Time With Carver

Carver is a great kid. Just an all-around great kid. I can't relate to other parents when they discuss their children's personalities and temperaments in relation to their birth order. Like "Billy is such a firstborn--he's such a perfectionist!" etc. My kids were born in one environment and thrown into our family with no rhyme or reason to birth order or oldest, youngest, or middle. They're just kids. And Carver is about as easy as they get. He's sweet and sentimental and silly and kind. He's also the best at forgiving me when I screw up.

The afterglow of Thanksgiving was quick to wear off this week, and I am time-crunched myself with a work deadline that is going to be the death of me. Somehow the kids sensed my lack of availability and were downright wicked to each other. It has not been pretty.* I knew the kids were just wanting more time with me, so I spent all of today making sure I got one-on-one time with each of them.

Carver, of course, wanted to go to the skateboard park. That wasn't exactly what I would have chosen for quality time, but it was his choice.



Carver, ready to skate.



Me... ready to rob a bank?




The view from the skateboard park. Not bad.

After an hour of me applauding his drop-ins and ollies and other what-nots, we went to get some peppermint hot chocolate and browse books. Now, Carver is very well read. He's a literature geek and we had a ball oooohing and aaaaahing over new books. But then he found the following:

What is it with 11 year old boys and inappropriate noises? This book not only looked funny, but it had ten (yes, count them... ten!) different accompanying sounds. They were loud and we drew the attention of little old ladies who were buying picture books for their grandchildren.

A day like today exhausts me, but I hope when my kids are grown up and living somewhere else they'll remember that I invested time in them, and watched them fall off their skateboards, and giggled over fart books, and sipped hot cocoa with them, and tried to keep the sibling rivalry at bay.

*this is not one of those blogs where i lead you to believe my children are perfect.

I just gave the woman that cuts my hair the biggest tip of her life. Man, that felt good! Then I treated myself to a huge portion of Kung Pao Chicken.

Hello, December!