Motherhood & More: With the holidays upon us, I am thankful for coffee*

Every year I wonder how it is that the holidays have come so quickly. I’m not nearly ready for any of it and it’s become a tradition to rush around crazily at the last minute. I don’t think this is so much because I put things off, but rather I pile too much stuff on in hopes of being everything to everyone.

So, in the spirit of giving myself a break, I’m copping out on this column. I’m going easy on myself. So this will not be literary genius of a piece, as they normally are, of course. This will be a last-minute, thrown-together list written in between work and laundry.

You are so welcome.

Without further ado, I give you my Thanksgiving List Of Things I Am Thankful For:

• I’m thankful my daughter slept all night in her own bed without crawling into mine, snoring and stealing all the covers.

• I’m thankful for interesting work I can do from my dining room table.

• I’m thankful my son enjoys reading as much as I do, even if his favorites employ toilet humor instead of complex plot development. “Captain Underpants,” I’m looking at you.

• I’m thankful we have a house that is a cross between 1920s craftsman, 1980s renovation and 2010s my-children-have-too-much-junk-and-refuse-to-clean-up-after-themselves.

• I’m thankful for coffee.

• I’m thankful I have a husband who sometimes makes me lunch when I’m busy writing a column that is past due.

• I’m thankful for laughter and corny jokes and friends and family who indulge me in both.

• I’m thankful for people who buy and appreciate the jewelry and hand knits I so love to make.

• I’m thankful for parents who raised me to know how to do things for myself, like making a pie, sewing a dress or growing a garden.

• I’m thankful my backyard is shady so I have an excuse not to plant a huge garden that requires a lot of work.

• I’m thankful for warmth and good food.

• I’m thankful both of my children are thoughtful and kind.

• I’m thankful for health.

• I’m thankful for coffee.

• I’m thankful for the village in our real village — we have a good set of friends/neighbors who always are willing to help each other when needed.

• I’m thankful for a husband who doesn’t complain too much when I leave the living room strewn with yarn and project materials.

• I’m thankful for feather blankets on cold mornings.

• I’m thankful for good wine and good bourbon.

• I’m thankful for knit sweaters and socks.

• I’m thankful for hair dye to hide all of my gray hair.

• I’m thankful for friends who remain friends, even when we hardly ever see each other.

• I’m thankful for Minecraft entertaining my children sometimes so I don’t have to.

• I’m thankful my husband fills up the car’s gas tank so I don’t have to worry.

• I’m thankful for love and acceptance.

• I’m thankful for coffee.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on Nov. 25, 2015.

I wrote this drunk because REASONS

Hey - remember when I was all "I'm going to update my blog regularly now and write fun stuff again and all that?" Well, maybe not "All That" but all that as in all of that stuff that I just said before in that last sentence.

This post is already getting away from me.

Anyway, my point is that I'm totally doing All That stuff I just said, all of that writing and updating LIKE A BOSS, if 'LIKE A BOSS' you actually mean 'LIKE A PERSON WHO LIES A BIT' and 'LIKE SOMEONE WHO ISN'T A VERY GOOD BOSS.'

I had one of those bosses one time. She was horrible and made me cry many times so I am very sorry if I made anyone cry by my lack of good boss-ness.

But if I had been updating I could have told you about my daughter's stomach-virus-turned-strep that lasted over the span of a week and a half and included a night of missed sleep on my part because someone had to be awake and ready to catch all the barf in the bowl because whenever I wasn't awake she barfed on herself and then I had to change all the sheets and her pajamas instead of just washing out the barf bowl.

Guys. Motherhood is so glamorous I don't even know what to do.

I'd like to take off my heels sometimes, is what I'm saying.

But she never quite recovered from that, and then got strep at the beginning of fall break (Monday).

Luckily we still were able to go camping (see all the photos below) and had an absolute blast, the best time I think we've had as a family so far, which is saying something because we're some awesome people who know how to have fun.

There was hiking and fishing and swimming from a girl who had a fever just the day before. (We like to build up immunities in natural ways.) And there were scary stories and s'mores with friends and more swimming in cold water and that one hilly hike with my daughter who still kind of felt like shit, but was entirely too much of a Mama's Girl and too stubborn to let her father carry her, all that much and so whined for 75 percent of the hike because I wouldn't pick her up.

But still kept hiking.

Because she is the epitome of 'LIKE A BOSS' in the actual sense of the phrase.

And I also could have told you about my son saying "What a pussy!" when we were all trying to sleep. I don't know exactly what he was referring to, but he heard it on some stupid minecraft youtube video and so NO YOUTUBE ANYMORE, SON. Thanks, minecraft. You're an asshole.

Where was I?

Camping?

Oh - if I was updating, I might have been able to mention that I'm starting to stress about the kids' Halloween costumes, because I'm running out of time. Sebastian wants to be The Headless Horseman, which is actually easy - we already have the cape from last year when he was Harry Potter. We just need to cut the bottom out of a plastic pumpkin and shove it on his head.  I've been telling him that he can just let his sister sit on his shoulder because she wants to be pumpkin. But not just an orange pumpkin. A many-colored pumpkin. I think, last I heard, the colors were blue and red and maybe yellow?

I'm taking them to the fabric store tomorrow so hopefully we can figure something out.

Because we are running out of time.

I also could have mentioned the fact that I just finished the 21 Day Fix, and that I loved it so much I became a coach, so if anyone is interested in starting, hit me up because it's really an awesome program and I feel stronger and to me, that is the point of all of the working out stuff. (I'm a wordsmith, I tell you what.)

I want to be stronger. I want to be leaner. And I want people to live in fear of my biceps. (Not really.) And I think this program can do that.  And I'm not just saying that because I'm a coach now. I really believe in it. So I'm serious - if you have any questions, just ask. I'm starting a new session on Monday, and I honestly can't wait. I feel much, much better on it, and that's not just all of the s'mores talking.

So, if I was a regular blogger, and not a lying liar, I could have told you all of this stuff, over the course of days instead of in one long post that I'm not entirely sure everyone has read to the end of.

I'm honestly not sure that is even an actual sentence but at this point it doesn't even matter because most of this is just a bunch of words that don't actually make a cohesive post.

Please to be enjoying some camping photos* and I promise** to update regularly from now on.

*I mean, this is a ridiculous amount of photos, but it was SO MUCH FUN!

**Dude. We all know I'm lying, and really - is anyone actually looking forward to this nonsense anyway?

Homemade Friday: Radius (The best sweater ever in the history of ever)

I loved this sweater since I first saw it in Twist Collective.  There is just so much about it that is perfect for me, like it was designed by someone who listens to the voices in my head that says things like "It needs pockets!*" and "I wish these sleeves were long enough to cover up my hands without being annoying" and finally "I really wish I had a sort-of-80s-throwback-type sweater."

And that's exactly what this is.  All of those things.  I bought the yarn the pattern called for because I was scared that not using it would somehow make the knitting gods frown at me and cause me to completely screw up this sweater.  I wanted it to be just right because I loved it so very much.  I even bought the same colors because nothing looked as perfect and perfectly awesome as the ones used in the pattern.

I also knit a swatch to determine my gauge and if you are aware of my knitting style at all you will know that I do not swatch because I am lazy and also too anxious to get started so I can be finished.  But for this sweater I would have done almost anything.

My gauge was wonky, again, as it usually is.  But I did some math and some figuring and realized that I could knit following the 34 3/4 inch instructions and end up with the 38 1/4 size.  And so that's what I did.  This caused the sweater to be quite a few inches longer than it was supposed to be, but in my mind that only makes the finished project better.  Everyone knows that when it comes to sweaters - the longer, the better.

The sleeves I did a little differently than the pattern called for.  I increased two stitches every 10 rows because I think they would have been too big otherwise.

Guys.

I was so anxious to finish this sweater that I started it on Christmas Day and finished it on January 3rd - not counting blocking.  That's a week and three days, which is some epic knitting.  Luckily I was off work and we spent a lot of that time staying up too late watching True Detective so I had ample knitting time.

I stand by what I've been saying all along.  Best sweater ever.

Pattern: Radius from Twist Collective Winter 2014
Yarn: Victory Yarns Amherst
Notes: Followed instructions for the 34 3/4 inch size but ended up with 38 1/4 inch sweater.  Increased sleeves every 10 rows.  Only cursed the extra, non-knitting crocheting instructions once, which isn't bad.

*Every sweater/shirt/dress should be required by law to have pockets because they make everything better and also my hands get cold and also again I need a place to put my phone.

The margarita is completely Paleo so it balances out

I am currently snacking on animal crackers that I found in the bottom
of my purse.  I chaperoned my son's zoo field trip yesterday and one of the little boys decided he was completely done with his snack and so here, lady, hold this for me and also buy me an icee.  (I didn't buy him an icee.)

I call this one 'Sebastian at the zoo.'

I blame the (totally non-paleo) animal cracker consumption on my current coma-like state, which I blame on my husband.

He was out of town for the past few days and so hasn't been home to tell me to put down the margarita and go to bed.

I kind of like staying up late.  It's quiet, I'm alone.  I can sew in peace without my daughter 'helping' by holding the little wheel turny thing (the scientific name, obviously) that makes the sewing machine sew, thus stopping any progress.  Or without my son randomly switching out my bobbin thread because "blue is my favorite color, Mom."

Last night was probably not the best time to stay up extra late as I'd already stayed up extra late the night before.  But I didn't listen to myself because I was soclose to finishing a project.  So I ignored my exhaustion and set up the kindle to play episodes of Ripper Street on Netflix and sewed one and a half shirts.  (The half was already halfway finished before I started yesterday.  Because I'd already stayed up extra late the night before working on it.)

I told myself the entire time I was sitting there that I would regret staying up, that I needed to get to bed because tomorrow (now today) would be so much harder and also I'd have to face getting two kids ready by myself plus I needed a shower and couldn't fake it by just putting up my hair because I'd already done that one day and couldn't do it for two in a row.

So I went to sleep at 11:30 and woke up before 5 for no reason at all other than my body hates me.  Or maybe it doesn't hate me, maybe it's like a dog that can sense storms coming and woke me up early so I would be prepared for the horrible hail/wind/rain/thunder/lightning episode we were blessed with at 5:06 a.m.  My daughter woke up scared from the pre-storm lightning so I brought her downstairs and then the hail slammed against my bedroom window so loudly that I seriously thought it was going to shatter all over us.  I didn't want to leave Adele to go get Sebastian, who I was sure was peacefully sleeping and oblivious.

Once it calmed down, however, I checked on him and found him up and scared and so felt like a horrible mother.  I brought him downstairs, too, so we all cuddled together for about 20 minutes that were filled with kicks and jumps and hugs and kisses until  I couldn't take it anymore and got up to take a shower.

So really I can't be blamed for the animal crackers, is what I'm saying.

Or for the copious amounts of caffeine I will be partaking in today.

(I'm currently listening to Lou Reed's Walk On the Wild Side and it makes me feel things.  Probably because I'm in a coma.)

(Here is a picture of one of the shirts I finished last night.  It's the Tiny Pocket Tank by Grainline Studio.  I'm only showing you now because I want you all to admit that I am the queen of Me Made May photos as I take them in poor lighting using my dirty bathroom mirror, which I like to refer to as 'the artistic way'.)

Motherhood and More: Being true to yourself*

I’m a bit of a sci-fi bug. It’s not something I realized about myself until recently, as in the last couple years or so.

I mean, you’d think it would have been obvious, but I believe I spent too much of my life trying to pretend I was much cooler than I actually am.

But when your favorite movies as a child are “Labyrinth” and “The Neverending Story,” and when you may or may not have named your eldest child after the boy in one of those movies (Bastian, not Atreyu, if you must know) it’s time to admit to yourself exactly who you are.

And then there were the unicorns, all of the mystical unicorns that were a huge part of my childhood. And the short stories I wrote are full of time travel. And “The Hobbit.”

Ahem. I guess you get the picture.

So far, my son seems to have no such problems with his identity as a nerd. True, he’s only 5, but he’s strong in who he is. I hope he never outgrows that strength of character.

We’ve stayed pretty heavily on “Star Wars” for the past few years, but he’s also strayed to “Pokémon and Beyblade,” which I honestly still don’t understand. Something about spinning somethings?

He’s also been begging me to allow him to read the Harry Potter books. I told him he could do it when he’s 7 or 8, but he insists now that he can read he’s totally ready. I’m still waiting, no matter how much I want to discuss it all with him. Wizards! Potions! Magic! I have so much to say.

When I was younger, it was imperative, in a ridiculous, angsty teen way, that I fit in. Or rather, that I don’t fit in, but in a cool, hippie, alternative way, not a dorky, light-saber, spaceship, “Dark Shadows” way.

And that’s not to say that I wasn’t a hippie alterna-chic. I was. I embodied the tie-dye-wearing, guitar-playing, song-writing, hemp jewelry making, yoga-practicing persona. But I refused to admit I also loved fantasy and science fiction.

And maybe at the time those two types of personalities were mutually exclusive. Or maybe they weren’t. I can’t say for sure. But I do know that now, in my older years full of introspective self-knowledge, they most definitely aren’t. I can’t really label myself, which I find to be absolutely refreshing. I am who I am and I like what I like. I’m obsessed with “Doctor Who,” but love to knit. “Game of Thrones” is my jam, but sewing is my sanity. And I enjoy a good “Lord of the Rings” marathon like nobody’s business, but still find time to make my own kombucha.

Because the point is not to fit into a specific mold. It’s to be who you are. It’s hard to see that when you’re still trying to figure out what that means to you. But once you do, it’s an amazing revelation.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on March 26, 2014.

I, on the other hand, would have never made it out of the pool

The thing about my husband us that he's dedicated.  Or some (I) might say stubborn.  Mule-headed. 

Before the race.

 But that behavior, while maddening a lot of the time, serves him well.

So that's why, when he told me he wanted to participate in a triathlon I knew that he was going to take it seriously. 

He was going to train.  And train.  And train some more.  He worked out twice most days, for an hour each time, running or biking or swimming.  We completely changed the way we eat, eliminating most foods that don't do us any favors - including, for the most part - beer.  And pasta.  And potatoes.  And cake.

We've both grown unnaturally fond of almond butter and kale.  But not together.  Mostly.  I think he made smoothies out of them a few times.

Transition area - where he started the bike ride.

He's lost 20-25 pounds and gained the ability to not only finish a triathlon, but also excel at it.

Beginning the bike ride.

The man placed second in his division.

Back from the bike ride.

Let me say that again - the man, my husband, who has never competed in a triathlon before - placed second in his division. 

He killed it. 

Setting off on the run.

I'm not one to be too mushy on here, mostly because I'm afraid it will come out sounding ridiculous and fake and whatnot.  But my husband is an inspiration.  I look to him for fitness advice and when I feel most like giving up and saying screw it, mostly when working out makes me feel like I'm never going to be in the type of shape I want to be in - I see him striving and running and working so hard to achieve something.  And I push myself a little harder.

Almost done!

(Recently I've discovered zuzkalight on youtube.  I love her and hate her all at once.  Also my sore muscles thank her.)
 

If you look closely you can see Christopher almost at the finish line. 
And that's Sebastian running after him.

And being at the event last Sunday and seeing all those other people who you can tell spend a lot of time trying to be the best they can be was amazing.

Of course, we celebrated that night with beer and cake. 

After the race.

And as a present to him I forgave him all those Sunday mornings he left me alone with the kids so he could train.

You are welcome, Christopher.

Accepting his trophy - which Sebastian is storing
in his bedroom next to his own soccer trophy.

(I'm ridiculously proud of him.)

Homemade Friday: Vanilla. Really.

If you've been following along, it will surprise exactly none of you that I recently made my own vanilla extract.

It's just, for some reason I am amazed and delighted that I have the ability to make things I've only ever bought before with my own two hands and some easily-found ingredients.  And really, it shouldn't come as a surprise to me.  I grew up in a family that made most of what they ate.  There was no canned spaghetti, or even canned spaghetti sauce.

We didn't buy tortillas, and we never bought a can of green beans.  We went to the basement and brought up a jar that we (they) had grown ourselves and broken and canned.  That was just the way it was.

And I think that's part of why I enjoy this so much.  It's getting back to the way I was brought up.  I don't have the light or the space to garden the way my parents did, and I'm lucky if I don't have to buy tomatoes during the summer, which is a shame. 

But this need to bake things that otherwise would have been bought, or just not eaten, stems from that.  I may not be able to can my own salsa at the moment, but I can damn sure bake some homemade vanilla wafers using homemade pure vanilla.

For making vanilla extract I used a mixture of recipes from The Homemade Pantry and Make the Bread, Buy the Butter.  Both of those books are well-loved and well-used by me, especially The Homemade Pantry.  It seems a little more down-to-earth than the other one, and a little easier to follow.

Making the vanilla is really so easy that I kind of feel like a fool for not doing it sooner.  I hate to pay for pure vanilla because usually it's not in the budget, and I always feel guilty for buying the imitation one that's only a dollar.

For this I used some leftover vodka.  I say 'leftover' because my friend left a whole jug of it when we had a girls' get-together at my house.  Chris drank most of it over time, but there was still some left for me.  So I dumped some in a jar, sliced open a few vanilla beans that I bought online (here) and put them in, too.  And then I shook it up.

And then I waited.  And after a week I opened it up and smelled it and then shook it up some more.

At one point I added more vodka and beans to enhance the flavor.

And then repeated.

I did this for about a month before it stopped smelling so strongly of vodka and started smelling like vanilla.

Glorious, heavenly vanilla.

Other examples of my need to make things from scratch:
Chocolate Graham Crackers
Granola Bars
Vanilla Wafers
Graham Crackers
Soft Pretzels
Tortillas
Bread
Baby Food

I've also made oreos and pop tarts, but forgot to tell you about them.  And tortilla chips.  And hummus.  And spaghetti sauce.  And pasta. And other stuff I can't remember right now.