Soul Mate.

Why do I love him?

His smiley, crinkly eyes when he laughs

His "Kid Freeze" funky dance moves (he's a break dancing extraordinaire)

His dimples (and the fact that he passed them on to all 3 of our boys)

His spontanaity and sense of adventure

His little boy charm

His grown up sense of responsibility

His dedication to his family

His ability to understand me and patience with me, despite our opposite-ness

His attempts to slow dance with me in the aisles of Costco or wherever else the mood strikes

His macho "You better not mess with my woman" attitude when there are jack-asses nearby

His giggle

His muscles

His dedication to his career and knowledge of science

His inventiveness

His wild imagination

His romantic inclinations

His embrace

His ability to cook (and I mean the man can cook)

His inability to hold a grudge while stripping me of my ability to do so

His duck dance with his boxers in a wedgie (guess you'd have to be there)

His hand holding mine through 50+ combined hours of labor

His neck being cinched by my pulling and twisting his collar during 50+ hours of labor

His diaper changing abilities

His ability to know when I've reached the end of my rope

His ability to take over when said end of rope is reached

His blend of vulnerability and strength

His pampering me with bubble baths and candle light

His willingness to search the magazine racks for a Mary Engelbreit magazine when I'm sick or cranky, followed by a cell phone call: "You don't have this one yet, do you?"

(but there's no purse holding or tampon buying for him, no indeed)

His refusal (even though I want to hear it just once) to say he'd swim through shark infested waters to bring me a lemonade ("That's just stupid" he says, "unless they were sand sharks- then I'd do it.")

His enjoyment of playing with his children

His unending efforts to be the dad he always wanted

His undying love for me

I think I'll keep him.

How to be a Cruel Parent- Part I

One of the most deliciously wretched things you can do to your child is require an early bedtime. Most of the time I put my children to bed at 7:30 during the week, so that they are asleep by 8:00. My oldest complains they miss all the "good shows" and commercials on t.v., none of the other parents make their kids go to bed early on school nights, and all I want to do anyway is have quiet time (say that in a snotty tone to get the real effect) and a date with Dad. Early bedtimes. Just another way to be a mean mommy.

Greener Days

I'm not ready to face winter yet. And since it snowed today (and stuck), I thought I'd revisit my garden pictures from this summer. See?!? I'm not Mrs. Brown Thumbs after all. Other than forgetting to thin out the plants, spinach that bolted before I knew to pick it, and having a crummy summer with little to no sun, it did pretty well. We ended up with edible/usable lettuce, peas, beans, dill, onions, beets, carrots, and cabbage. This garden shot shows its progress about halfway through summer. But the gargantuous cabbage and Chorus Line carrots are from the end of summer harvest. Next year my goal is to try lasagna gardening and see how it does.

Lord Help Me.

I will not beat my child.

I will not beat my child.

I will not beat my child.

...But this little punk is going into solitary confinement.

With a toybox, some trash bags and a vaccuum cleaner.

Lucky for him, he's cute.

I'd be Fabulous, Daaaahlink.

I don't dress up for Halloween anymore. But if I did feel in a costumey mood, I'd want to wear a hat. You know, just to run down to the grocery store for some milk or whatever. Or maybe to my son's parent-teacher conference. Unfortunately I was born in the wrong era. But if I were a hat wearing kind of person, I'd wear one of these fabu noggin covers...

The first three are from ladydianehats.com Just in case you want to order for your next tea and crumpets/bunco social.

And this one is from ahead4hats.co.uk I think it'd be perfect for mowing the lawn. It would make all the neighbors envious. Maybe we should all just start wearing them and then we'd be all be in style. They are seriously cute. I say my sister goes first.

A Cherished Visitor

I don't buy into the idea of ghosts being lost between worlds, angry, vengeful, mourning and skulking around dark corners and hallways, whooooooing away. Nor do I believe they are Casper-like, friendly little do-gooder spirits, looking for ways to lend a helping hand to the living. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't believe in ghosts at all. I believe in the Holy Ghost. I believe the Holy Ghost guides us, helps us, dwells in our hearts, gives us words to pray. But as far as "ghosts" go, I believe the dead no longer have use for our realm. They are in their places of eternity, possibly observing us, but more than likely having a great big ol' party up above, and getting ready to throw the confetti when we join them.

But what about those who never really had a chance to live, except in the dark peaceful quiet of their mothers' wombs? There is a little ghost who visits me sometimes. She wasn't done with our world, and we never had time to cuddle and chat. She formed miraculously within me for a few short months, she grew me into a mother, and then was taken away. Other than the ebb and flow of emotion she felt through my body, the warmth of my hands protectively cradling her, the lull of my voice and my heartbeat she felt through vibrations in water, she never knew of earth. It's been 8 years since she left and I've had my chance to grieve. I find peace in the fact that while I never had a chance to hold her, she's been rocked and embraced in the arms of Jesus himself. I've thought of how she's there with my grandparents and other loved ones, laughing at stories of my childhood calamities, learning all about the people she came from and basking in the presence of our Creator.

Every once in a while, though, I feel her here with me. I wonder if God gives a special privilege to these little ones- a kind of "visitation pass" to leave campus once in a while. You know, to have a little glimpse of what their earthly experience would have been like? Sometimes when I'm browsing the racks of a Gymboree store I'll glance up from the boy section and instantly spot a little polka dot sun dress or a soft Easter sweater across the store, and without thinking logically, realize that it would be perfect on Hannah. I can almost feel her tugging on my jacket to go over and touch the fabric. Or when my due date comes around each year, I feel a little bit of warmth, like a hug, that isn't due to the heat vents kicking on or a ray of sun through the window. It's accompanied by a sense of reassurance that it's still a day to celebrate. Every now and then I feel her in the living room, bouncing on the couch cushions and giggling at her brothers' antics. It's not that I can see her there, or even feel the sensations of the cushion moving. It's more of a day dream that catches me off guard. I'm not even aware that I'm seeing her until my conscious mind takes back control and she's instantly gone...until next time.

I didn't realize, when I was pregnant that first time, how common miscarriage is. I never imagined I'd have that experience to reflect on for the rest of my life. My doctors told me that 1 in 4 pregnancies ends this way and that it is "nature's way of taking care of abnormalities." They gave me the option of having the "fetal tissue" scraped out with a D&C or going home to wait for my body to take care of business. Some well meaning friends and family even told me it was "God's will." It seemed that everyone wanted to help by trying to make the loss less of a loss, to make it more sterilized, practical, non-human, or even a mistake to be corrected. The more they discussed how common it was, the more alone I felt in the experience. Instinctively, protectively, I took back the reigns 8 years ago. I left the hospital and its antiseptic smell. I cried buckets until my eyes were swollen shut, I sat on the couch in my robe for days with no shower, I drew the curtains shut and didn't eat. After weeks went by, when I felt my body cramp up and the cruelty of a labor for no baby, I held up my chin and got through it. The hardest part was not the cramping pain, but the emptiness that followed. It was both physical and emotional. I had a body that wanted desperately to hold on to a baby that couldn't grow. I had a heart that wanted to grieve a baby that needed to be mothered. Have you ever been to a funeral for an unborn baby? Unless it was your own, you haven't. They have an attendance of one. But as painful and lonely as it was, I said goodbye on my own terms.

I don't know what to make of it when I see the image of a "ghost" in a movie preview. The intent is for the viewer to feel pangs of terror. My brain instantly converts the image to one that is laughable- a white sheet controlled by a puppeteer behind a curtain. Kind of like the Wizard of Oz when he gets found out for who he really is and all the mystery fizzles away. Because I know a ghost who visits me, and she's not a vessel of terror and angst. She's a whisper, a flood of warmth, a soft brush against my cheek. She's come to see her mother, to hold my hand, to cuddle against me while I sleep, to join in on her brothers' fun and listen to her daddy sing. She's here to tell me that she misses me, but there's an amazing place where she'll be waiting to welcome me. It's her perfect, eternal home. She's there with so many other little ones, who come to visit their mothers once in a while. Mothers know all about ghosts.

*This post was entered in Scribbit's October Write-Away contest. If you'd like to enter, please visit Scribbit.

Reality Bites.

Had my annual exam today... After stepping on the scale and flashing the nurse for my exam, I felt just like Barbie. Well, this Barbie anyway.

Girls Have Cooties. I Repeat. Girls. Have. Cooties.

Isaiah was sitting on the couch this morning during Saturday cartoons. All of a sudden he yelled, "Aaaaaah! My eyes are burning!!! My eyes are burning!!!" I looked over to find him pressing his hands to his eyes like he had some kind of sudden affliction causing him searing pain. "What's the matter?!?" I asked, alarmed. "My eyes! My eyes!" he continued to moan. My mom brain instantly recognized that this was not real pain and that he was pulling my leg. I glanced at the t.v. and saw there was a commercial playing for a Barbie hair bead gadget. I asked him if that was the cause of his searing eye pain. His eyes peeked out and hands moved slightly up to the eyebrows to check the t.v. and see if the offending ad was still playing. Then he looked over at me and nodded yes, his face looking as if he'd just whiffed a rotten egg. Girls might have cooties for now, but I'm guessing he won't have searing eye pain from all things girly when he's a teenager!

Well, I was tagged by my sister, so here you go.

I'm supposed to tag 7 others, but since I already did this via email, I won't pass it along again. Just be tagged if you want to! :)

1. Where is your cell phone? purse

2. Where is your significant other? asleep

3. Your hair color? carrots

4. Your mother? sweet

5. Your father? Sisu

6. Your favorite thing? massage

7. Your dream last night? blank

8. Your dream/goal? gallery

9. The room you're in? piles

10. Your hobby? painting

11. Your fear? loss

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? apprentice

13. Where were you last night? dishes

14. What you're not? lazy

15. One of your wish-list items? genie

16. Where you grew up? Alaska

17. The last thing you did? parented

18. What are you wearing? jammies

19. Your TV? Satan

20. Your pet? flushed

21. Your computer? mystery

22. Your mood? sleepy

23. Missing someone? Ali

24. Your car? comfy

25. Something you're not wearing? thong

26. Favorite store? fabric

27. Your summer? blip

28.Love someone? lucky-for-him

29. Your favorite color? yellow

30. When is the last time you laughed? Paulo

31. Last time you cried? likewise