sueeeus

There are times of agitation where I liken the sensation to the inner workings of a grenade during the moments after the pin has been pulled, before the explosion.  Lying in bed at night, trying to grab an hour of rest before I must rise and express.  On the right, my husband’s snores mount a steady gurgling, spluttering, thundering assault.  On the left, softer sounds of contentment that could at any moment turn into a wail, demanding milk.  Above me, the whoosh of the breathing machine.  From the other room, whimpering, whining, and a steady stream of chatter from a very strong willed nearly four year old who is bound and determined not to go to sleep.  Outside my bedroom window a steady stream of traffic speeds by.

Another snore explodes in my ear.  My nearly four year old calls into the room, “Daddy, why are you making those sounds?  I don’t like those sounds.  Stop making those sounds.”  But the maker of those sounds is blissfully unaware, lost to the land of nod within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.  He won’t hear the baby cry.  He doesn’t hear the pleas from the other room.  Will he feel it if I smash my fist in his face?  The thought actually crossed my mind.  The agitation is consuming me quickly, and the minutes are ticking by.  The hour that I once had has dwindled, and with each passing minute in which sweet relief is nowhere to be found, the agitation rises.  I surprise myself with the hostility of my thoughts.  I don’t like the version of me that surfaces in moments as this.

Get through the night.  Tomorrow is a new day.  It becomes a mantra.  And somehow, miraculously, hope and relief sail in with the dawn.

Two Thousand and Eight has been oh, so great!
A little bit of lovin’ put a bun in the oven
I took a trip to Oz, just me, just because
I got a promotion without much commotion
Later that year the baby appeared
My beautiful boy has brought infinite joy
Then there’s his brother, a boy like no other
He’s nearly four so I shouldn’t expect more
Our family is complete; this sweet life can’t be beat
As for Two Thousand and Nine, it’s looking just fine!

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

I’ve been a bit hell-bent on home-made this year, to the extent that it sort of dampens the spirit of things.  At least in the realm of  edibles.

I did lasso Gadget into helping with a project, and he did swimmingly.  Behold the espresso knock box(es)!

A knock box is a receptacle with a bar against which one whacks the espresso portafilter to remove the used puck.

Gadget was actually impressed that I’d gone to the hardware store on my own and found copper pipe, clear tubing, rubber grommets, and copper end caps.  Yes, Dear… …Women can shop at hardware stores too…

I’d seen these made from plumbing materials, but a piece of drain pipe still looks like a piece of drain pipe, even with a pretty copper bar poked through either end.  Fine for the grunge rocker or starving artist, but a bit too industrial for my taste.  Instead, I found plastic iced tea tumblers to use as the body.  Granted, they’re not nearly as thick and strong as the PVC, but they don’t look half bad, and I think they’ll hold up for at least a little while.

I merely had to ask Gadget to borrow ‘the cutter thing that cuts a 4 inch circle’ and he took over the project from there, cutting the holes, sanding the edges smooth, and assembling the various pieces.  All I had to do was mark where I wanted holes drilled and cuts made, and after that, I took on a supervisory role.  Genius!

We made four because the copper pipe only came in 2ft lengths, and I needed 6in.  I can always sell the extras on eBay.

The other gift project was aromatic bath salts.  I tried to duplicate one of my favorites, a blend of peppermint and eucalyptus, but didn’t get the ratio of essential oils quite right.  It’s nice, though, and hopefully the recipients will like them.  I did remember at the last moment that my SIL has an aversion to mint, so I filled one jar with a blend of grapefruit, dewberry, and something called tropical tango.  It’s different, but not bad.  I ran out of salt, though, so it didn’t quite fill the jar.

I think that wraps up my artsy craftsy efforts for 2008.

This, however, is by far the best thing made this year.

It looks like Mother Nature is granting us a white Christmas (in the Pacific Northwest, anyhow).  Even the trio of miniature trees on my covered front porch are blanketed in snow.

They’re tiny trees and I decorated them with fruits and birds.

Awww, isn’t that sweet?

Speaking of sweet, my cookie baking failures continue.  Alas!  If I were to put a price on these cookies based on how much time they took and what I get paid for real work, these would probably cost $10 each.  No cookie is worth $10.  Not even a Versace (if there were such a thing).  I’m a terrible cookie maker.

I gave up on shaped cookies and tried drop-smashed instead.  This recipe emulates the Lofthouse cookie.  It’s light and fluffy and the icing is surprisingly good.  They are a far cry from uniform, though.

To my credit, they all taste good.  The execution, however, leaves much to be desired.  Because I like to beat a dead horse, so to speak, I may make one final attempt at holiday cookies before Christmas.  I’m thinking of a sugar cookie dough that is rolled, refrigerated, and cut with a wire to make uniform circles.  Or, I could try to overcome this ridiculous perfectionism personality disorder, and resist the urge to produce a beautiful, delicious, uniform cookie.  That would be the better road, in many ways.

I also made some sweet and spicy almonds, which turned out okay, but could be improved upon.

The same can be said for the Chex Mix as well.

Again with the dead horse.  I am SO very tempted to try again with all of these concoctions.

The thing is, in the interest of giving home made things to friends and family for Christmas, I can hardly feel good about giving something that looks gross or tastes gross, now, can I?  I think I’ll just put these out for people to nibble on (if they dare, and if they care) and not use them for any sort of gift.  Eventually I’ll get these recipes figured out, and hope for better luck next year.

99 things meme

Making the rounds; this time from Suse…
Things you’ve already done: bold
Things you want to do: italicize
Things you haven’t done and don’t want to – leave in plain font

1. Started your own blog.

2. Slept under the stars.

3. Played in a band. Concert bands count, right?

4. Visited Hawaii. Not particularly impressed.

5. Watched a meteor shower.

6. Given more than you can afford to charity.  If I gave it, then I afforded it.  ???

7. Been to Disneyland/world.

8. Climbed a mountain.   (It was small, as mountains go.)

9. Held a praying mantis. (It was on a leaf –does that count?)

10. Sang a solo.  (sans audience!)

11. Bungee jumped.  No freakin’ way.

12. Visited Paris.  Twice!

13. Watched a lightning storm at sea.

14. Taught yourself an art from scratch. I teach myself almost everything from scratch.

15. Adopted a child. Started the process then got knocked up!  May still do it.

16. Had food poisoning.

17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty.

18. Grown your own vegetables.

19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France.

20. Slept on an overnight train.  Was rudely ‘toed’ by some horny Italian.

21. Had a pillow fight.

22. Hitch hiked.  Only in a small town with people I knew.

23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.  We can take them if our kids are ill, or if we have medical appointments…

24. Built a snow fort.

25. Held a lamb.

26. Gone skinny dipping.

27. Run a marathon.  Are you crazy?

28. Ridden a gondola in Venice.

29. Seen a total eclipse.  Not directly of course – didn’t want to burn the retinas!

30. Watched a sunrise or sunset.

31. Hit a home run.

32. Been on a cruise.

33. Seen Niagara Falls in person

34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors.

35. Seen an Amish community

36. Taught yourself a new language.  A smattering of Greek and some French.

37.Had enough money to be truly satisfied.   Is there such thing as enough?  Hello, I’m married to Mr. Gadget.  There will never be enough to satisfy him.  I, however, feel just fine right now.  But I wouldn’t mind a gourmet kitchen with a huge pantry, a laundry room with space to fold clothes and not get stuck between the wall and the door of the washer, and a big shower with built in seating…

38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person

39. Gone rock climbing.

40. Seen Michelangelo’s David in person.

41. Sung Karaoke.

42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt.

43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant. No, but tried to give away an untouched meal to about three homeless people on my way from a restaurant, and was turned down.   Apparently something to do with spicy food?  Or they just wanted money.  Hrumph.

44. Visited Africa.

45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.

46. Been transported in an ambulance.

47. Had your portrait painted.  Does a badly executed self portrait count?

48. Gone deep sea fishing.

49. Seen the Sistene chapel in person.

50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris.   Just looked at it.

51. Gone scuba diving or snorkelling.  Mexico.

52. Kissed in the rain.

53. Played in the mud.

54. Gone to a drive-in theatre.  All summer long!  Until they shut it down, we will keep on going as often as we can!

55. Been in a movie.

56. Visited the Great Wall of China

57. Started a business

58. Taken a martial arts class

59. Visited Russia

60. Served at a soup kitchen

61. Sold Girl Scout cookies.

62. Gone whale watching.  Need to go again, because we didn’t see any!

63. Gotten flowers for no reason.

64. Donated blood.

65. Gone sky diving.  Lunacy!

66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.

67. Bounced a cheque.

68. Flown in a helicopter.

69. Saved a favorite childhood toy.   No, but I’ve been entrusted with my mother’s favorite childhood toy.

70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial

71. Eaten Caviar. Fish eggs.  Blech!

72. Pieced a quilt.

73. Stood in Times Square.

74. Toured the Everglades.

75. Been fired from a job.

76. Seen the Changing of the Guard in London.

77. Broken a bone.

78. Been on a speeding motorcycle

79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person.

80. Published a book.

81. Visited the Vatican.

82. Bought a brand new car.

83. Walked in Jerusalem. Got as far as Corinth!

84. Had your picture in the newspaper.

85. Read the entire Bible.

86. Visited the White House.

87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.  Do fish and crab count as animals?

88. Had chickenpox.  Luckily, I developed immunity anyway.

89. Saved someone’s life.

90. Sat on a jury.

91. Met someone famous.

92. Joined a book club.

93. Lost a loved one.

94. Had a baby.

95. Seen the Alamo in person.

96. Swum in the Great Salt Lake.

97. Been involved in a law suit.

98. Owned a cell phone.

99. Been stung by a bee.

Look what my recent upgrade did to my posts.  What’s with all those funky characters with each period?  Now I have to run a cleanup on the entire database (SCARY!!) or just ignore it for now.

I’ll ignore it for now.  But I know it’s going to BUG me.  Grrrrrrr.

I wonder if it has something to do with the Christmas window, when sentiments are stirred, but I’ve noticed a flurry of activity on FaceBook.  I’ve ignored FB for the most part since it came out, being the suspicious type and also a little freaked out at the notion of so much personal information floating about out there, but a few days ago I decided to join.   Once in, I learned that many of my family members are in.  We already have our own personal family message board that my BIL launched on Christmas Eve, 1999, on which we’ve chalked up 11,961 message so far.  Amazing!  And now there is FB.  I noticed that most of our join dates are within the last week or so, which is interesting, since we joined independently of one another, for whatever our own reasons were, and nobody mentioned they were doing it.  Once in, though, we found each other.  It reminds me of that song, Escape, I think it’s called, “If you like pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain…”

In retrospect, I could have been a bit smarter about the sign-up process, like the part where you give them your name.  Your real name.  Now, the guilt-ridden catholic schoolgirl in me considered using an alias, then won over and used the real deal.  Next, all these pictures of people I might know popped up, with the instruction to click on anyone I might know.  So I did.  THANK THE HEAVENS ABOVE I didn’t click on all the ones I recognized.  Little did I know that FB would send these folks a friendship invitation.  My social anxiety just kicked up a notch.  I mean, I clicked the picture of my first love, from a quarter century ago.  I only realized after the fact that he’d been invited to be my FB friend, and I didn’t know how to take back the invitation.  No harm done, he’s a fine person and seems to be living a fine life.  Awkward moment for me, though!

And then there’s the matter of anonymity.  In a way, I’m glad I used my real name on FB, because I don’t know that I’d want any and all of my life acquaintances to read my blog (no worries, really, there’s very little traffic here!), and I don’t mind my blog friends who are on FB knowing my real name.  It’s not too hard for the two worlds to collide, though, if one but follows the yellow brick road.

I’m through with the domperidone, and not sure whether the milk supply has taken a hit yet, but am hoping that having the drug out of my system will improve my hormonal outlook.

Post partum hair loss has set in.  If only weight loss were as easy as hair loss.

I hit the jackpot with this bundle of babyliciousness.  He has the best disposition.  When he’s hungry, he kicks  his legs a certain way –alternating, like running or cycling.  When he’s playing in his bouncy seat, he kicks his legs another way, in unison, to get the seat bouncing.  He can really get it going.  Such a smartie!  When our eyes meet he bursts into a giant radiant slobbery smile that melts me to the core.  When he’s tired he flails and squirms until I give him his pacifier, then he contendedly burrows his face to one side or the other, settles in and goes to sleep.  Lately he’s been studying his hands; he’s figuring out that they’re attached to his arms, and trying to make them do his will.  It’s amazing, really, to watch this learning take place.  He’s discovering his voice, which has the most gorgeous resonance.  I hope he will be interested in music!

It is a winter nightmare wonderland around here.  While the snow is quite pretty, and there is a glorious bite to the crisp crisp air, I simply can’t bring myself to drive on the icy roads if it’s not absolutely necessary.  So I’m holed up in my house, still, and feeling a bit gypped with this so-called vacation.  Whine, whine, whine.  We’re nearly out of milk, so I have to decide whether it’s worth a venture out.  I could get out of the driveway without sliding the van into the truck, but getting the van safely back in the garage is another story.  Our cul-de-sac is very short on actual curb space, so street parking is almost impossible.

Snow is great fun for those who don’t have to drive in it, though!

I’m the world’s worst cookie maker.  I followed the recipes, and instructions, for both gingerbread and sugar cookies, but the dough didn’t roll properly, so I had a heck of a time making shapes.  I used the food processor, as directed by the instructions.  I may make another attempt before Christmas, if I can muster the wherewithall, but will use the stand mixer instead. I’m the only one who likes gingerbread, though, so won’t be making any more of that.

In the interest of home-made Christmas gifts, I made some posters for my 8 going on 12 year old nephew using the raster tool.  I like how they turned out and I think he will be pleased.

For my 12 going on 24 niece, I made an Audrey collection.  These are 8.5×11 glossy photos in 10×13 frameless frames (the photo shows their protective styrofoam), and should fill up quite a bit of her wall space.  She’s very inspired by the beautiful Ms. H, and I think she will be delighted.

Next up, therapeutic bath salts.  That is, if the peppermint oil I bought on eBay arrives in time.

Now, I realize that an exhaustive (and exhausting) whinge is self-indulgent, but it got me through another pumping session, and for that it was well worth it.

That is all.

Gadget is away for a week, visiting his brother Gizmo in California somewhere.  He’s not the best of planners, my Gadget, and announced one day not so long ago that he had a week of vacation time that he needed to use by the end of the year, or forfeit it.  And to him, vacation means going somewhere.  He didn’t like my suggestions of staying home and doing things around this city.  After all, people come to this city for vacation, so why not take advantage of what we have at our own back door (and not spend a fortune)?  He totally turned his nose up at that idea.

Being the sucker enabler that I am, I looked into last minute cruise deals.  There were some great deals, but as it turns out, babies must be at least six months old.  So no cruise for us.  So how about Disneyland?  He was all gung ho about that, but the more I thought of it, the more I realized that it would be absolutely wretched for me, since I’d be the one with the baby, walking around all day, having to find a place to pump, working out how to store the milk, and generally just watching them have fun.  Which made me consider sending BB and Gadget, alone, while I stay home with LB.   That would save a good grand at least, and I’d be a lot more comfortable.  And of course he makes the comment, “I don’t want to stay in a dive hotel.”  (Translation:  You’re a cheapskate.  Defense:  We’re not made of money, Dude, and why spend five star prices when all you need is a place to sleep since you’ll be gone all day every day.)  But then I thought I want us to vacation as a family, so if we can’t all go, then none of us will go, and we’ll just plan a trip for later, when I’m not bound to the insufferable breast pump.  We could manage a drive to see my sister, but no, he didn’t want to do that.  To him, that’s obligation, not vacation.  We settled on him going to visit his brother Gizmo, and me staying home with the kids, or possibly taking them to see my sister.  So much for spending time as a family.  He’s a master manipulator (he claims not!) and I’m an idiot for letting it happen.  All because I allow him to corner me into a guilty place where somehow I’m doing him wrong by not wanting to spend thousands of dollars venturing out somewhere, preferably tropical.  Clearly I have some serious underlying issues that I need to get to the bottom of.

He tends to see things through rosy glasses.  Probably my fault too, because he sees a plane trip as a fun thing to do, and I see it as a hell ride with a handbasket full of logistics to accompany it.  Two kids, one of whom is exceptionally defiant and prone to loud unpleasant and lengthy outbursts, a car seat, a booster seat, a stroller, at least two pieces of luggage, a breast pump, a cpap machine, pump paraphernalia and milk storage items, not to mention the need to work around the pump schedule itself.  These things he’s oblivious to.  These things make even the thought of travel sheer insanity.  The oblivion itself is maddening to me.  I find nearly everything about travel very stressful.

That said, I was actually happy at the prospect of having some ‘single’ time.  The freedom!  I was also happy at the prospect of visiting my sister.  But as luck would have it, this is the weekend that winter touched down with a fury, so the roads are dangerous, and I cancelled the trip.  My vacation, therefore, is being a single stay at home mom.  Nice.

It was nice.  Very nice, in fact.  Liberating, even.  One less kid (the biggest boy of the house) to care for.  It felt great to distance myself from all the thoughts described above, and to enjoy having the home to myself with no resentment at chores undone and general perceived lack of initiative.  (Why is it that a man who works all day thinks he’s entitled to relax all evening, as if life’s duties stop at five o’clock.)  I cleaned the fridge, and it made me so happy to gaze upon those sparkling shelves!  I enjoyed my peaceful home for the first couple of days, but tonight I found myself feeling melancholy and, dare I say it, missing him.  I even called him and told him so, much to his surprise.  He didn’t believe me, really.  He tends to assume he’s always on the verge of being kicked to the curb.  I do miss him.  Truly.  I like to be together as a family.  I like having him around (even if I have to remind him that I do, in fact, need help around the house and parenting the children).  But most of that warm fuzzy missing him was snuffed out when I discovered, close to midnight, that no outdoor winterizing has taken place, the snow has arrived, and I am left rifling through the garage looking for insulating materials, then wrestling with the outside faucets in the black of night with snow falling all around me, removing garden hoses from the spigots, rigging some sort of insulation to the faucets, hoping to stave off frozen and burst pipes.  I miss him, yes, but some resentment has resurfaced.

Some vacation.  I am using it to capture as much rest as I can.  Tomorrow, snowmen and sugar cookies.  BB will be very excited to see the snow.