I feel so lucky this Mothers' Day. I couldn't be more aware of the love, appreciation and support from my family, especially my children. Click on the photo above to see more great shots in my flickr photo stream, including some truly inspiring artwork from the kids (and Patrick).
Alternate title: What We Did On Spring Break, Part II
Our drive to and from Michigan takes us along a strip of I-75 that sits about 5 miles away from four enormous wind turbines that were erected a few years ago. As Patrick loves all things green, this portion of the trip becomes a bit precarious as he tries to spy the whirling giants through the tree tops and misty skies. Once spotted, I am always amazed at how larger-than-life they appear, even from miles away.
This last time we passed by the turbines, it was a glorious day, and we had some time to spare, so I gave Patrick the go ahead to exit the freeway and head toward the giant pinwheels. Our little jaunt turned out to be an educational sight-seeing venture and unique photo shoot:
Patrick could hardly contain himself.
According to this information published by Green Energy Ohio (Patrick is a member, of course), the first two turbines went up in 2003.
Family photo. An is thinking "Why am I standing here in the middle of a cornfield? All of my friends got to go to the beach!"
I had Logan pose for perspective, to help give a sense of the size of these things. Although they are enormous, they are amazingly silent. The three blades are also unexpectedly narrow, but apparently designed for maximum efficiency.
Looking over these pictures during Easter week, I couldn't help but think of images of the cross.
Modern symbols of sacrifice and renewal.
As I am now going on my fifth straight day of keeping my food down, I think I can safely say I'm done puking and ready to get back to blogging. Even the past week or so has been a big improvement, enough so that I've at least been able to get out and experience life, take pictures and otherwise capture in random thoughts and words rambling around in my head many "bloggable" moments. In an effort to clear my mental pallet, and because I realize I'm never going to have time to go back and develop these into the full-blown posts that they might have been, I'm going to attempt to tackle this all in one mish-mash multi-category post so we can all move on. Here goes.
Why Is It Always My Shoes?
Kiki, having fully recovered from hives and completed her course of steroids such that she has now returned to her normal spunky, adorable self, is making leaps and bounds in the world of potty training. Going #2 on the indoor plumbing is a regular occurrence for her, however, getting the timing down on #1 is still a bit of a mystery. She also on occasion enjoys trying on my shoes. During a recent underwear-clad moment, she wound up testing the watertightness of a brand-spankin' new pair of Etienne Aigner pumps. She'd done this one other time with a brand-spankin' new pair of Bandelino pumps. And, while I'm happy to report that you could confidently sip champagne out of either pair, you probably don't want to at this point.
Emotional Jail
Logan, ah Logan, I love you buddy, and you certainly have become quite a "man" since turning six - from making pee standing up "like a real man" to trying new foods and getting yourself dressed, you're really growing up. And yet, we still have the occasional emotional overload. SOMETHING happened at church recently that set you off - I didn't see it, but the mom of the 2-year old who was involved insisted that he apologize to you. I tried to get you to talk about it:
"Can you tell me what upset you?"
"NO!"
"Talking about it might make you feel better."
"NEVER!"
"Well, could I just say a little prayer that you'll feel better?"
"NO WAY. PUT AWAY THOSE PRAYER HANDS!"
"I'm not going to say anything out loud, I'm just going to think a prayer for you in my heart."
"NO! MOMMY - YOU ARE GOING TO JAIL!"
"Jail? Why am I going to jail?"
"FOR PRAYING!"
FANNEE MEETS GRACE
What do you get when you mix 2 lbs. butter that's not even close to room temperature, a bag and a half of Hershey's dark chocolate chips and remaining cookie ingredients, and the energetic offspring of Fanneedoolee and Grace? Chocolate chip crepes, and a lot of fun!
Click here for more baking fun photos in my flickr photostream.
H.B. MARIE!
Damn! Where ARE those pictures? You know the ones - with the lipstick and the tacky luggage? They must be lost in my mom's basement somewhere. I vow someday to find them and post them, hopefully before your next birthday. Until then, this blast from the past will have to suffice:
Nice midriff.
High School Revisited
Congratulations to An, who once again received a top rating when performing with her school choir at a regional festival. They advance to the state competition in May! And thanks to An for my best people watching experience to date - sitting in the high school cafeteria after the performance, watching all the students from the various schools in their mix of formal singing attire and flip-flops. From the fashions to the hairstyles to the social graces, high school is a social time capsule that remains unchanged.
The Many Faces of Logan
all aboard!
{More Photos To Come . . . }
Just found these pics from last Christmas of a post-holiday dinner with my Dad's side - Grandma Rosemary, my Dad's sister Karen, her husband Jim and my cousins Ashley and Nicole, and Nicole's fiancee, Sandeep. But the guest of honor was my dear Aunt Marylin, wife of my late Uncle Gene who inspired this post.
Yes, I'm incubating again. Surprised? That's what most folks ask me when they hear the news. The answer: A little, not that this pregnancy was in any way unintended.
After Keelin was born, Patrick and I never reached the point of feeling "done," but I, at least, remained apprehensive about having another baby. I had no doubts that it would be a right fit for our family, I just didn't think I could do it again. I "what if?"ed myself to an unhealthy state - What if I have horrible morning sickness again? What if I suffer another kidney stone, end up on bed rest, or - like too many of my peers - develop breast cancer? What if I end up with sever post-partum depression? What if I just don't have enough energy to take care of a baby and two others (and myself)? Am I too old to be plunging into the pool one more time? I hated the thought of abandoning the idea of having another baby out of fear, though. So instead, I chose hope. I chose to believe in myself rather than my fears.
I owe this re-discovery of my self-confidence largely to An. The weekend that An became a part of our family jump-started my maternal super-powers to a level that assured me that yes, I can do this. I can find the energy, the strength, determination, patience and faith to take care of a child, even in challenging circumstances. I saw clearly that our family's bonds are strong enough and flexible enough to withstand the change of growing. Patrick and I both have been reminded of the invaluable lessons we learned the first time we were ever given a newborn to care for - that amazing time period where we stood on completely level ground and had no choice but to lean on each other, both being equally clueless and yet determined.
And so now, even as I accept that some of those "what if?"s have already come true even before the end of my first trimester, I can't help but feeling a bit spoiled - like I've been given a gift I don't quite deserve. It's almost like some higher power is saying, "Silly girl - I would not give you another baby if I did not think you could take care of it!"
I find my mind frequently returning to a gift I received from my Grandpa when I was seven or eight. It is a small, mirrored plaque engraved with etched writing atop a frosted waterfall. It reads "You are never given a cross without the strength to bear it. You are never given a dream without the power to make it come true." Those folks at Hallmark sure know how to turn a phrase.
Nothing like a rousing game of "Hide n Seek" to form those bonds of family intimacy . . .
"OK - I think we found everyone!'
"Where's Josh"
"Did you check on top of the fridge?"
"He's not in the laundry room."
"I know - the bathroom. Check under the sink."
"I can't. Nana just went in there - she's using the toilet."
* * *
"AHHHHH! BAHHH HA ha ha ha!"
"I think Nana found Josh!"
Disclaimer: Readers are advised to forgo consuming liquids while reading this post and/or viewing the following photos. Fannee Doolee will not be responsible for any damage to computers or equipment caused by expelled liquids, saliva, etc.
Logan and Keelin started the New Year off by spending the day in their pajamas, then later adorning themselves in Keelin's new box of princess attire (courtesy of Nana, thank you very much), which inspired me to start the New Year off by once again revisiting some fashion foibles of the past.
I like to call this first collection "Twinkies: The Dos and Don'ts of Coordinated Dressing."
First, a few "don'ts":
Now, I'm not saying that the black velvet overalls weren't cute, but as a general rule, when dressing alike across generations, an outfit that's appropriate for one age group may not work for the other. Granted, overalls are arguably non-age specific, and the holidays are a bit more forgiving of the oxymoronic black-velvet "formal overalls" - what is that? Some kind of prehistoric predecessor of the dreaded formal shorts? Still, I am thankful that Nancy chose to forgo the festive socks.
Even within generations, as can be seen in this next example featuring my well-spaced sibling cousins Mike and Rachel, twin dressing for boys and girls can be difficult:
Or maybe it's just the overalls again?
Because here, it totally works:
The classic khaki (yikes - I can't spell it forward or backward!) trousers paired with a festive turtleneck and crew sweater are appropriate for both Michael's and Joe's age groups. That is Michael, right? I've kind of forgotten what he looked like with hair.
OK. Now my good sportswomanship and sense of humility lends me to ensure that my fug posts poke fun at me more than anyone else in my family, so with the help again of cousin Mike, who both selected and is featured in some of these next photos, I present a few more classic 80s ensembles:
Here's one of me as some sort of elfin child-hooker:
"Hey there, Big Boy - won't you ride my sleigh tonight?"
Crime against humanity #1:
What, pray-tell, exactly is that print on my dress? Some cheap rendition of a French brothel cartoon (like a take-off on the wall paper Grannee Doolee used to have in her den?) A map of the Heathrow Airport? At least I managed to coordinate my purse with Mike's fashionable-yet-practical elastic-waist pants.
Crime #2:
Thank God they've outlawed those horrible synthetic running shorts so marginally tailored that they revealed more of your crotch than Britney Spears climbing out of a limo, but to think that I wore them with a MATCHING FLORAL T-SHIRT - oh, the shame. Apparently, this was taken when Mike was in his Richard Simmons-emulating tank-top-layered-over-a-T-shirt phase. It's hard to tell because my hand is in the way, but I'm sure he had the sleeves cuffed.
And finally, the piece-de-resistance:
I was so proud of that hair. And the make-up. But not nearly as proud as Mikie was of his Night Rider jersey! Oh, what a feeling . . .
Alternate title: This One's For You, Grannee Doolee
This year, my mother's family started a new holiday tradition. We created a time capsule to be opened on Christmas day fifteen years from now. My Aunt Nancy sent out an e-mail a few weeks ago asking every member of the family to bring something to contribute.
At first, I thought about reviving my ultimate shock-value stunt of whipping in to the bathroom, cutting off all my hair, and emerging with a long, red pony tail to toss in to the large Tupperware box-slash-time capsule. But, I'm actually kind of attached (pardon the pun) to the long locks this time around, and I think the pony-tail trick really worked best for ex-boyfriends.
So, I more or less made a last-minute scramble to come up with something for myself and a few items for the kids that would be entertaining and meaningful when viewed again in fifteen years. I tried not to get too stressed about it. I figured half of my relatives would forget or be to lame to participate (I mean, if they wouldn't karaoke . . . )
Boy, was I wrong. Not only did every single person bring something special, everyone came prepared with their own little "speech" about their item and why the selected it. Not a single "lame" contribution in the bunch.
The overwhelming theme of our Family Time capsule is just that - Family. The parents (and grandparents) in particular selected items that reflected their love for their children, and the children themselves selected equally sentimental items representing significant accomplishments from their childhood. (Yes, Andrew, even though you parted with your drum sticks because they are too short, it's still sentimental).
So, what were my final selections? I contributed this picture that I colored when I was in college fifteen years ago, in hopes that it will trigger as strong of a Crayola-scent inspired flashback in 2021, and a sealed envelope containing something that represents a significant decision in the works that I hope not to regret and would like to reflect on in fifteen years. I think I captured everyone else's contribution with MY NEW AWESOME CANNON EOS DIGITAL REBEL CAMERA THAT SANTA BROUGHT ME AND THAT I'M JUST A LITTLE BIT EXCITED ABOUT, so click here to see what the others brought.
Growing up, my family spent so many Sunday mornings at Blake's Apple Orchard that I can't help but crave hot cinnamon donuts and fresh apple cider each fall. This weekend, I got to share that experience with my children, and also with Patrick and his dad and step mom. Although the weather was a bit on the rainy-chill side, it made for the perfect Fall afternoon to visit a nearby cemetery filled with some of Patrick's long-lost relatives. Ironically, a few years ago, my mother noticed that a small cemetery barely a mile from where I grew up and where my parents still live, bears Patrick's family's surname. My mom thought that the arched wrought-iron gate would make a particularly unique photo setting, and she was right. Because our last name is all over these photos, I can't post them publicly for security reasons, but if you know our last name, you can view them here. When asked for a user name and password, use our last name for both. (Pretty clever, huh?) You can see the rest of our photos, including our trip to Blake's and observation of the fascinating cider pressing process, in my flickr photostrem.
Unbelievably, next week Nana will take over for Patrick and me while we spend five days and four nights on a 10th anniversary celebration trip to Maine, which was also our honeymoon destination. Instead of worrying about what to pack, I'm more concerned with all the details essential to Nana's survival (not to mention the kids' survival) while were gone and thought I'd better brainstorm on a few helpful hints:
Breakfast: Keelin will ask for "fereal", which means "cereal", and you should give her some with a little milk, but she won't actually eat it - hopefully, she'll keep it in the kitchen and not smear it all over the living room. Logan will want pancakes. I may even have Patrick pre-mix some batter for you because he's pretty particular about the texture. And how are your carving skills? Because Logan probably won't eat them unless they're cut in the shape of a dinosaur or the Empire State Building.
School: As I found out earlier this week, there's a "no beauty at the bus stop" rule for parents, so if you have to walk him down there with a sweatshirt thrown over your pajamas and no make-up, that's fine.
After -School Activities: Yes, plan some. Coloring, videos, playing outside are all good. No, Logan and Keelin are not allowed to watch Harry Potter 3 or 4, and if you do watch 1 or 2 you have to watch it very closely with them and skip past all the scary parts. Art activities are a big hit, but no matter what she tells you, don't let Keelin play with markers, or play with any pens or pencils unsupervised. Or crayons when she's hungry. She's always hungry.
Boo-boos: If Logan should fall off his chair accidentally, trip, or otherwise embarrass himself more than he hurts himself, DO NOT LOOK AT HIM, HUG HIM OR SAY ANYTHING NICE TO HIM AT ALL, as he will tell you. Kiki, on the other hand, will require seventeen kisses on her knee every time Logan looks at her funny.
Potty breaks: Logan has been accident-free so far at school, so we certainly don't want him to break the trend while you're in town as that might scar him for life, so make sure he goes potty BEFORE HE GETS ON THE BUS. He will probably not go all morning at school, so best to get him in there right away when he gets home too.
Recreation: I have a Rodney Yee yoga video that the kids like to do with me. Or, I should say, on me. Don't try this unless you're prepared to do "down dog" while straddling one with the other climbing on your back. Also, the karaoke machine plugs in to the front of the VCR, and all the disks are in the shoe box next to the TV. Go ahead. No one will know. It's not like I have a hidden camera somewhere or anything. Really.
If all else fails: There's chocolate on the top shelf of the freezer door. Oh wait - I finished that off last night. We'll re-stock it.
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