Life on the tilt-a-whirl.

My brain resembles a tilt-a-whirl with me slinging stuff on board. 42 things humming along at once. I jump from seat to seat taking a new course. Buckling in. I turn on the washer but forget to press start. I shave one leg and forget the other. The creamer sometimes ends up in the pantry. I can't find the television remote after I placed it somewhere safe. I've been known to leave the car running. I consistently have food stuck in my teeth because I can't be bothered to look in a mirror. The list goes on. My husband routinely asks me if I can just sit. Who has time for that? Vacations are hard for me. I want to be productive. They feel way less than productive. Way less.

Today is: make grandma's cake day. Please BEWARE of my cooking. I sometimes overlook a key ingredient at a crucial point. The secret is, that even though I am not that amazing at it- I LOVE TO COOK! The ritual. The Production. The hilarity of the result.It's all the icing on the cake. Rick's face when I try to mix in something healthy. I wait with glee in my soul. Cauliflower. Vegan crumbles. Lettuce wraps.

Requirements for today's said cake: Grandpa says it must be exotic. Is Jello Exotic?
Does butter really have to be softened?
I have now turned on the Great British Baking Show. Pretending I am now at my own chef station with my fellow cast mates. I will win. Lets do this. I gaze into Paul Hollywood's baby blues. Lets be transparent. He is the real reason we all tune in.
The Harry Potter Soundtrack for inspiration.
I got distracted and made myself a cup-a-tea to really live in the moment. I am ready.

The British seem to have a much more experienced palate that will contribute to my creation.
Spotted Dick. (I mean really?) Lardy cake. Trifle. Wet Nelly.
Wet Nelly is bread soaked in milk and then baked- yum... or not.

I have now settled on a chocolate cake creation. I will report back regarding the results and taste.

I just pulled the 2 bundt cakes from the oven. They appear to be jiggling. Are they to actually jiggle? I put them back in the oven.

No matter. I will slather them in butter cream. No one will turn down butter cream.

Now there is smoke. Why????? Reece is questioning my abilities. Reece is naked. "i better get dressed mom in case you burn down the house! Then you'll have to call dad" She flounces away.

Ah. I love baking.

Traveling Kauai : The introverts and homebodies

Trip observations.
Months ago, I sat at our computer dreaming of the Hawaiian islands. Aloha. I was swept off my feet by the pictures of crystal blue waters, ocean waves, cliffs, and terrain. I skipped right over my husband’s reluctance over the flight. I said YOLO! Fuck it. Book it folks. The day approached with a multitude of emotions. Adventure and an unrelenting hope the stress of life would lift right off the shoulders. Carpe diem! I planned, plotted, and packed. The day had arrived. My grumpy,
Love-able man lamented the fact that I had booked him a seat that wasn’t the window🤦🏼‍♀️HUGE MISTAKE. Retrospectively I should have seen this coming. Our birthing hospital experiences went something just like this. He paced the hospital room (aka closet) like a caged animal. Prowling. Prompting the nurses and doctors at every possible opportunity to expedite our discharge. He can’t be settled to sit. Honestly - I sent him home the night after we had our second in hopes he could gather a modicum of patience. It was not to be had.
So here i sit. This cantankerous caged animal sitting next to me. We still have 3 hours to go. Pray with me.

The airport leads me to multiple observations:
What are people thinking with their attire? They got up and said I’m going to kill it in this 2 sizes too small dress with 4 inch heels. Heels to get on a airplane? Y’all I am downright fascinated. Then there’s two :the fanny pack which strangely I am currently admiring in their efficiency. Third obs: Please folks - for the love of god- refrain from cutting your nails and toenails in public at your flight gate... this is frowned upon by the general civilized population. You could clip one and hit me in the eye.

I don’t even understand jeans. All that tightness and material making you tuck a gut. There are some so short I think their labia are getting cramped. I’m sorry for their labia pain.Nope. Yoga pants is the way to go.
I also become a disadvantaged crazy mess looking at those moving escalators. I give myself a pep-talk as I attempt to board. “You can do this. You will not fall- don’t overthink it” as I envision myself falling and my hair becoming caught and being scalped. Yes my mind went there.....
I look around spotting the stairs as I see an elderly woman trip onto the moving death trap.

Why do you go on a vacation and your body says “we may never poop again!” “Pooping strike.” “See how bloated you can be?! “ Then you become a 75 year old poop obsessed maniac and are roaming the local cvs for stool softeners and laxatives in hopes that one of your greatest fears of a bowel obstruction doesn’t come true! Senna. Mirilax!Get the prune juice! I have gone down the rabbit hole.

Day 4 of no poop.
I’ll have you know day 5 was a success and I could breathe again.

I have a confession to make.
I can’t figure out how to work the tv. I’m a fairly put together woman and have repeatedly attempted this remote control. My husband asked if I needed his help- he doesn’t watch tv. I told him I was taking time away during vacation but in reality every time he goes to the bathroom I have made a Valiant tv attempt and that fucker is getting the best of me. I feel my IQ score dropping.

Kauai obs continued:
Please for the love -do not believe that hooked on phonics will get you anywhere in Hawaii. It will not. Do not try to sound a damn thing out. You will be perceived like the redneck you are. Just go ahead and write it down. Pointing - like you don’t speak the language- bc really you don’t. If you are forced to speak. Add an extra ooo—-eeeee at the end of things and maybe don’t pronounce the k. There you are. Just like”K-nife” - lost that K. Also chickens are protected in Kauai . That’s right. Chickens. There’s also a street called titicomb. Yes. I giggled. Hawaiians are pretty clear that they haven’t been annexed into the us.... check it out. Lastly I’m not sure if as a culture they like the tourists at all.

Our condo has developed a plumbing issue. I’m not kidding. There is a man with an accent that I can not identify asking my husband about how far in our sink is?! Did I mention for a day of the trip we will not have electricity...? Rick does not trust the accented man and appears to be watching him like a hawk as he crawls under our space. Riots folks

The canyon was very high. No railings in places. Lots of old folks gallivanting and I contemplated crawling. Seriously. I consider this not to be a genetic flaw - a fear of heights- but a survival adaptation. Cliff. Nope, I don’t do that. I could trip and die. I did trip and fell on my butt. Also at dinner I choked on my water and further confirmed to rick that he picked the most intelligent woman in the room. I mean who else can choke on water.
In all seriousness the Waimea canyon was unreal. I made it to the top of the mountain only vomiting a little from car sickness. I watched the water fall and hugged the husband wishing I actually had a sound track to my life. I think first aide kit would be playing for multiple reasons. Remember, I am not frightened of heights. I am an adapted,genetically superior, survivalist, human being.
We also went to the beach. I now have a bruised leg. We quickly realized it was high tide but my husband felt the need to be in the Pacific Ocean ; as he has only been in the Atlantic. So we must go. No pool will do. So out we go walking. There was a really cool beach but we are numbskulls and booked on the east side of the island. I waded out in the water attempting to ce’ la vi and I got smacked hard in the shin by an incoming log. Down I go. Fuck a duck you beach.





Next we went on an amazing back-country tubing adventure. We got there early. Obviously I’m type A. I quickly put on my helmet and gloves. It turns out I didn’t need this for another 45 minutes and I just looked like an overzealous reject. But screw it. I will never see these people again. Upon traveling up the land of Steven case - (yes the AOL guy- you’ve got mail! He owns 24000 acres in a trust with Hawaii which is pretty flipping cool- )we arrived at the sugar cane plantation canals for our adventures. I fell into the tube and it was the most refreshing thing I’ve ever felt. Like being pelted in the buttcrack with a bucket of ice. I listened to the directions regarding the tunnels and the 2 mile trek. I soon realized that shit was going to go down for me. I was immediately at the back of the 21-seat-class being eaten alive by bugs. But I was excited. As we started forward (me smacking away at the mosquitoes) I realized that I would be spinning. For the average human this may be okay but did I mention I tend to puke? I spent the remainder of the trip trying to hold down the nausea in hopes I didn’t appear
To be a weak ass bitch. Bc let’s face it. My stomach is a weak ass bitch. I tried all the tricks. Keeping my eyes on a central source. Closing my eyes. This led me to running an older woman into the wall with my tube repeatedly. So life was going well. As the 2 miles came to an end I was praising Jesus and wondering what flaw led me to this terrible affliction. I’m sure everyone else had a great time! In fact some asked to go again. I thought about kissing the earth and pelting dart holes in the tubes. Instead I stumbled away to have a seat and appear half way put together in an attempt not to upchuck.

We sat on a beach. Jellyfish dead on the shores. I scoured the beach looking for the perfect shells for our babies because I miss them. As you would a limb. I keep feeling them to be there and looking around for their little voices. Mommy ? Mommy? Mommma! It’s eerie when I looked around and they’re not there. I think it’s some sort of innate quality that god places in parents. We just want time away. Just a few hours. Then you get it and spend it looking at their faces. Recounting all their latest feats. It’s so hard to find balance. I keep preaching to myself that I will be better by taking some time away; but honestly right at this very moment I want my arms full of our children. Telling me stories of their day and rubbing my face.

Today was to be grand. I had booked us a boat- cruise- drinks - lunch the whole shebang. Shebang- say it again bc it’s a cool word. I now know that I had none of the following professions in my past life: first mate, pirate, octopus, or mermaid. That’s right, I’m admitting I have never been a mermaid. I was most likely a maid. I like order. I like routine. I like books. Today, I boarded the boat with every intention to savor it. Never, will I ever, plan to board a boat again. I quickly realized things were not going well for my bitch ass stomach. (Girl has issues). I looked around and saw large swells. And despite my premedication of all the mecliZine and high hopes I stumbled to retrieve a vomit bag and spent quite a lot of the 5 hour voyage attempting not to vomit my breakfast. I looked over at one point and saw the hubs turning a slight shade of green. There was quite the crew of us. Some leaning over the back of the boat like Leo but in an effort to retch far and wide. Some clutching their ginger ale for dear life in hopes it would prove to be the elixir for their sea weary souls. We have now come out on the other side of that 5 hour fiasco. They boxed our lunch. We didn’t get to partake in the open bar. 😭We have decided to look at the bright side and we will not be booking any cruises in our near future. My dream of a Viking cruise just went down the drain.


Today, I have very minimally funny things to report. We made it to Hanalei Bay. We strolled the beach in all its grandeur- watching the sailboats and surfers glide over the water. This beach. Now this beach is what you think and feel Hawai’i. Too bad it an hour drive from our condo. We looked into the crystal blue waters - watching the sea life and it felt like I was just waiting there to be crowned a Disney princess because surely that will happen in heaven. We then stopped at the lighthouse... I do have pictures of this. We walked out and read all the history as we felt as if we were baking on the surface of the sun. I made the executive decision to eat subway because shit Hawaii is expensive. $10 for a toothpick size taco. We then came back to our slightly cooler condo- it does not have air... yes that’s not really a given anymore. We lay sweating attempting a nap because as parents we savor every morsel of naptime. So here I sit, sweating my arse off, with a beer, music and the husband. Life is pretty good.


Let’s start with the husband’s job. He’s gone. A lot. He has a job that takes him away and that makes me more grateful when he’s home and we are more apt to deal with each others shit. We never. Never spend 7 days together. Nope. In close quarters.(Firefighter wives please stand up!) I love that man with all my heart but I could throw him out a window. He is cantankerous. Bossy. He wakes up pissed. That is who my man is. I know this and after nearly 10 years we got this- but I had forgotten. 7 days in a 1 bedroom be a long time folks. I’m a cheap ass. He is in glorious vacation mode and I’m trying to make 1 meal last for 4 because that is the essence of my soul. CHEAP. You give me $5 dollars and I’ll make that 5 into 10 and make it scream. Rick doesn’t have the patience for it. So I’m grumpy. He be grumpy. Life on vacation is bliss. Let it glow. Sidenote: we met the nicest waiter,named miles, who we felt was the exact opposite of our souls. He practically glided with happiness serving us. We both appreciated him and are glad there are “miles” out there to balance our serious souls out. We also ended up in the bathroom for hours after the food “happy miles “ served us. Good job miles.
I love my husband, every day. We don’t like each other every day. Nor do I recommend being around each other every day. We just ain’t those people. The end. PS hubs. I love you.

Last 24. I am trying to figure out how I will get some Benadryl into the husband’s drink prior to boarding the flight. His response to being pinned up in an airplane was akin to being put in a cell. He just now complained of how much he hates sunblock. He’s done. Baked. Return to sender.


We have made it to the airport here in Lihue. No air. Swamp ass as my husband would declare. I’m giving him a wide berth of 20 feet at all times. Very minimal interaction. The caged animal may bolt. Still an hour until the flight. I just made eye contact. Probably not the best plan of action. Soft subtle movements with my head down. We will be home soon kids! 💪🏻💪🏻💪🏻


We made it home after 24 hours in the airport. Fist bumps welcome. I am doubtful I will ever spend that long on a plane again. My neck hurts.

Sun tea and 33.

Itching. The push. The pull. Scratch,Scratch. Can I tell you how many responses I write to others that I don't send? How many scathing remarks I make? They sit in my inbox. Calling your name. I wrote about 9.11 but I couldn't post it. It didn't feel worthy.

The pull this week was too much. The litany of words running through my head. I will be 33 soon.11 days. Numbers that are double, I believe, portray luck. I hate sevens. I am sure there is a superstition somewhere in time. I remember wanting our babes born on even days. 12.18.12. 8.2.14. Like this small thing would direct their life's course. Pregnancy makes us crazy. Although I am just more than a tad on the cray side. I digress. That is not what this little post of my thoughts is about. My mind bounces. Like a train running off course. Twists, turns, with a hard right down the tunnel of light.
33. A double number begging for greatness. I recently read a book by Shonda Rhimes, the year of yes. I sat with her thoughts after finishing it. Do you do that? Take an extra minute a day to see what you actually thought? I appreciated her. She was in a place of holding an extra 40 pounds, of putting others first, of not living. A place we all happen on once in a while. Her response to this.... the year of yes. Yes to pushing out of her comfort zone. Of sitting on the floor in an award's dress and playing house. She said, if it's not a "HELL YES" then it is a NO. I think Rachel Hollis hit this one repeatedly in her two home runs of books.

This part struck a chord for me. "If it's not a hell yes-then it's a no." I am the chick that works to make you feel comfortable. I fill the silence. I have difficulty saying no. I stray from all confrontation. I am in the pits of motherhood. Seeping in it like Sun Tea. I am scrambling to make it all work. Now I have a short stent a few times a week of utter peace. Our babies are in school. Sending others minds over the edge. I thought I would rise in this peace but I am questioning it all. Am I enough? I see my husband and ,although hard, he is slaying. I am so fucking proud of him. This year I want to be proud of myself. I want to say NO. I have lots of dreams but they're just pipes. Small adventures. I want this year to be stepping up to the plate and hitting that home run. Out of the park. To make myself cheer. To sit at the alter of Lori McKenna lyrics. To RISE to be 33.

CHANGES

The trees are about to show us how lovely it is to let things go.


My kids are asleep. Let me repeat. My kids are asleep and I am slightly buzzed. LANY on in the background. Honestly this an amazing state to be in. I have made changes again. I sometimes wonder if it is stupidity or courage. I ask for obvious signs to show that my decisions are the right ones. I psycho analyze myself- my parents worked in positions that they despised for so many years. Bleeding onto every aspect of our lives. I choose to have the courage to make a change when I am unhappy. I don't want to be known as a person who jumps ship but I also don't want to be known as a person who doesn't grow. I want our babies to see me reach for the stars. Is it possible to reach and see and dream? I think about things now. Retirement. Childcare. Futures. I don't have the same perspective as I did at 21. I want this next season to be lovely. I want to embrace every aspect of the change and be grateful for the opportunity that presented itself. Where am I? I am not really sure- but I am not sitting still. I am reaching for every single star in the sky. Kissing my babies. Loving my husband. Holding onto the tiny, beautiful things that make my heart sing.

Wake up

What is it about being an adult that just makes you want to pull the covers back over your head? My alarm goes off at 5:22. I immediately access the rapid pace I will have to keep to get out of the house by 6:25, sitter by 6:45. Work by 7. Lunches packed. Dog fed. Kids fed. Dressed. Meltdowns addressed. Hearts soothed. Not to mention me getting ready. Thinking about what I should set out for dinner. If I paid the sitter. The electric bill. Preschool. Did I sign up for the kids special days? What time is it again. Oh 6:22. Oh fuckety fuck fuck. I'm never going to make it. Then begins work. I have meetings. Home visits. Phone calls to return. Coffee just spilled down my front. Did I turn off the coffee pot? It just seems easier to go back to bed. I sound whiny and feel guilty for that. I love my job. I love my kids. But I would love to drink my coffee on the porch and watch the sun rise. To quietly listen to the news. My kids are currently fighting tooth and nail. I may go break that up. I'll quietly enjoy my wine sometime soon and remind myself that each season has its trials. Good night. Ready to race into tomorrow. No matter how unwillingly I go. 

leaning in

I vehemently feel that if you rise to the occasion life will throw you a rope. That if you just keep chugging along praying to whatever god there is out there that something comes along. I met Rick at a time in my life I had no idea he was what I was looking for. I don't think I was looking for him. I fought for that relationship, broke off a huge chunk of my heart and left it to him. Running to another place and job and looking forward. And you know what? He and the world stepped up to the damn plate. It said "we've got you" and they did.

Foster wasn't hitting any of his milestones. He wasn't and isn't the same as others. I let the doctors and circumstance direct us instead of trusting. Then I think yet again Rick and I made it happen. We accepted our little boy and leaned in. He is AWESOME. Honestly one of the most intelligent humans I've ever met. In that time we had a miscarriage. I came to terms with that and accepted how it changed us. Then the world, Buddha, God, life gave us REECE. Shit they gave Foster REECE. His best friend. An overwhelming belief is in me that she is half of his heart and always will be.

Then there is this job that I just happened into. Messed up circumstances. New experiences. Education that is letting life pour into me instead of sucking me dry. Then a new position within my position. I am in a good place.

Obsessed with the people in my life. LIFE makes you lean in.

Hey

There are moments in every day that I think I suck.

I didn't put down my book to pay attention to the train for the 110 th time in an hour. I didn't have enough patience or I raised my voice in anger. I'm getting pretty great at forgiving myself and loving me a little more. I'm giving myself the grace I hope I give others. That it's okay. That tomorrow will go on. That the sun will rise and set. I am hugging my toddlers but not letting guilt overwhelm every moment. 

They take up my everyday and give me life.