Where am I going?

As of late, I have been trying to figure out what direction to take my blog. For anyone sticking with me, I am thankful.

When I started writing this, I was an isolated mother with lots of children and I was identified by the sheer number. I still have lots of children, but two are in their 20's now, and the youngest is about to start kindergarten. I have left my husband's church because I cannot handle the smell of incense and I have a couple of the kids at a different church that they love. (Cloud has become an organizer in the church for events for her group. This church isn't full of triger-happy survivalist types, thank goodness.) People don't normally know me as that mom with 9 kids now that many see me with just a couple of them. My seven left at home are in three different schools and while I volunteer, no one sees me with all of them.

A few weeks ago, a friend got on me for not working and for making my husband support us all. He jeered at me, "Why haven't you finished your degree? What do you tell people when they ask what you do?" Gosh, I tried to finish my degree-- when I started to tell him, he said that all I was offering him were excuses. When I told him that no one but him had an issue with me not working, he didn't seem to believe me. I was depressed for a while over it. (My husband started to talk to me about working. I was like, "That is fine, but you have to start cleaning." I used to work in the evenings and I also took some classes and I'd come home around 10pm and he'd be watching TV and dishes would still be on the table. Floors still need to be vacuumed, windows wiped off, they all have to happen, and if I am working in the evening, I am going to sleep at different hours. After more thinking on his part, he dropped it.) I think that as I am a housewife, I embarrassed my friend. He got into his head that I talked about him-- and when I thought we had a mutual friend, he told me to not talk about him to her and that it would be "a test." I guess housewives do nothing but jabber to other people about him in his world.

I've dealt with things that I have to write about months later because, while the kids don't see my blog, it is about privacy for them.

I am getting more involved with my art. My mentor found me, and he is making me think. Today he said to me, "Do not run from me. I am not your professor, I will not fail you. Just. . . think. Don't think tonight, think in a few days." Of course I am up at 3:30 thinking about what he said.

For years I have painted and drawn, and I had one fan for whom I produced many works given that we wrote snail mail. For my mentor I am starting to go back, not to the works that I did, but to what I am seeing, and creating. What have I seen that has moved me today? What catches my eye? Do it in pastel, now recreate it in water colors. Work fast, I haven't much time, I can usually go back.

I have an art show planned for September of 2012. I am finding themes in my work. Art is a language unto itself. I do envelope art and my art always says, "I love you, I have prayed for you, I thought good thoughts of you for however long it took me to make this." I do not know if the envelope art will make it into the show-- it is hard to create it just because I have a show coming up. "Oh cool! Art on an envelope!" Yes, it is nice, but for whom am I making it? Having an audience is important because I have direction. Now that I have a mentor, he is guiding me and ultimately, I can always create for him since so much of what we discuss manifests itself into my work.

I assisted at a friend's art show a couple of weeks ago. It was private and very elegant. I discovered that unplanned "fiascoes" are really opportunities in disguise. I went along to help set up easels (I think I was asked to help because I have a big vehicle!) on which to put up work, but given time constraints, I didn't have time to change from volunteering at the elementary school to where I had dressed almost like an elf in striped stockings, a mini skirt (not micro-- it was cute!) and bright colors. I arrived and was setting up when the people putting on the art show realized that they'd not booked the caterer to cater-- just to make food! They were having several guests come over and they asked me to stay to help serve. Since I was with my artist pal, I was there for him and was happy to do what I could. Their plans for the kids didn't work out because the kids got tired of watching a movie, so I had a container full of art supplies from the kids' school. I did an art project with the kids that the parents wanted to try, too! What had been planned to be an event from six to eight or nine lasted until eleven o'clock at night with fascinating stories and people bonding.

I get really embarrassed because I spend a lot of time at FaceBook. I don't spend too much time there, but on one of my accounts, I often access it from my phone. The particular group of people has my base of friends from 30 years ago, as well as close new friends. We post encouraging notes to each other-- it is like. . . . getting a dozen Hallmark cards every day! I recently posted something about my eldest daughter and how proud of her I am, and my friends who are also friends with said daughter were really wonderful because they know her, too. They told me that I had so much potential when I was younger, but that no amount of professional accolades and education could trump what they are becoming as people, and that the sacrifices that I have made are worth it. I am so blessed to be seeing it in my lifetime, and I hope that the younger ones will also be as wonderful for their sakes. (I think they already are!)

I am not ready for Starshine to enter school. We had a late snow the other day and she wanted to walk. I parked a few blocks away and she tramped through people's yards as I walked on the sidewalk. I asked my she was walking in the snow and she said it was so other people could follow her. At one point she paused and looked at her foot prints and said to me that her footprints are art. It was awesome. As we walked, I realized that it may be the last I walk with her to school in the snow. Next year, she will be an eager kindergartner. I may volunteer, but it won't be the same. I really want to have more babies. As she grows, I am also getting older. Sure, I am 43 and I am quite young looking, but age is a funny thing and you cannot escape it if you live. I hope to make the most of every year and be a wonderful role model on how to age well.

I suppose that like StarShine, I, too, am leaving footprints.

I have the most wonderful child-- unless she is up to something. . .

With Esme's daughter in crises mode and quite scared about a pregnancy that no one is really worried about having happened, my own daughter has asked me about homeschooling next year so she can spend time doing what really matters to her. She doesn't want me teaching her anything, she has in fact looked online and wants to do a combination of math and science at her local school, and German, history, English, and whatever else she needs to do from home. She can use my help for German, but she says that she has been noting in class how much time is spent learning and actually doing anything and she said that she could get her day done in 2.5 hours if she was doing it alone, and then have more time to study what she wants. One of the things? She asked me to get with the mother's group at her church to find out about religious classes.

She is solidifying with the Catholic faith and told us this evening that she is hence forth crossing herself as a Catholic. Eastern Orthodox shouldn't mind, but they do, but I don't mind and I will lock pointy hats with any priest who wants to make an issue of it.

I played Devil's Advocate with her, and asked about abuses in the church. "Mom, I had nothing to do with those, and you are making a point with your ideas for abuse prevention. Besides, all I can do is to help prevent them from ever happening." She wants to learn more and I have to admit that I am happy for this. There are a few cradle Catholics who are her age who are baffled by her love for a faith they feel has been thrust upon them. (Of course Orthodox are stricter, so she probably feels like a rebel. Her godmother is Catholic and is really excited-- of course she has probably been behind this the whole time, praying for her conversion! There is a lovely church a town over that Esme loves that is a huge cathedral and she is planning her eventual wedding there!)

I know that with time that she will grow closer and then step back, then get closer still. For now I am enjoying her joy with it. This evening she asked what projects I will be doing with the kids for Lent. I was dumbfounded and she asked me, "How will you ever give us warm childhood memories of these holidays if you don't get it right and do them now?" I have always wanted to, but life has been swirling around us. I stammered out that we'll be making a salt dough Crown of Thorns and stick toothpicks in it and every time we do a good deed, we will break one off and throw it away? She liked that and suggested we put it on our Eastern Orthodox Pascha table at my husband's church.

My husband has sweetly agreed to let us do some events at the Catholic church over Lent-- his church isn't doing much as they don't have a priest.

Cloud proceeded to explain to her brothers and sisters what it means to give something up for Lent, and to take on a good new habit. She shouldn't have shared what she wanted to give up because Basil quickly goaded her and got her mad enough to yell at him, and he smirked. I made him put his nose on the wall and he was not that worried about his punishment and said he thought that I should perhaps give up punishing him for Lent!

Bamboo mothering

I am very excited. Today my son with special needs, the son who I hardly understand, came home with news of an airplane club at school. The application requires that students have a math and science background, and I called the school in tears. My son was speaking clearly when he gushed over the club and asked for permission to join it, but I didn't know how he could get in. The office sent me to the teacher who runs it and it sounded like he knows my son and he said that he will help him. He seemed happy over the sudden speech improvement and suggested that maybe he will adapt to the work if he loves the airplanes. I was so happy for this. I have no clue as to what Guy will do with his life, but he isn't that bad off. His delays are mild, but he is seriously behind in math and reading. He's never been a discipline problem and the instructor was happy for this!

This weekend I have my three older boys at a winter camp. What an exciting thing for them to be outdoors and sleeping out and living outside for two days and nights.

My husband is terribly sick with the crud that I am fighting and I fear a mid-week sleep-spell. I have to put off being sick for a few weeks as my life is picking up so fast with some trainings. I feel absolutely terrible because my work is only volunteer work. A former friend really bashed me over this a few days ago and I am having a hard time enjoying it. I cannot work and I have to be only a mom for now-- but what I do is terribly important. I am not lackluster with my volunteer work!

My eldest daughter called me (psychic power?) shortly after the money focused idiot and I got off the phone and she thanked me for making her do various classes in school even when it meant that I was in bad physical shape and drove her across town to another school twice a day. She recalled several things that I made her do that she balked and whined about that she is now grateful for me having forced because she is making some serious money and she loves her job. There were some things that she wanted to do that we couldn't afford, so I quit getting my nails done and she was thankful for those things, too. (I don't know that Mr. Money would put himself out of a trip to Las Vegas if it meant that his kids got a shot at private music lessons or if he even knows what it means-- can he just not imagine having to deny himself anything?) I still wish I could "have it all, all at once," though! I could have been happy without the blow, and I had to get nasty and yell at him and I hated having to defend myself to someone to whom I should not have to defend myself. I cannot be friends with someone who could be flat on his back and still be looking down his nose at me.

My ex husband (who I can never like for reasons that I won't elucidate on here and now) once told me that "the person who inspires ten strong men is stronger than any of them." OK, so I only have nine kids, but I feel like they are my most important work.

(If my kids were acting up due to what appeared to be a lack of parental supervision, Mr. Money would have a completely different opinion. And yes, I miss him because he had some nice characteristics, but for someone with a background in law and politics, he lacked diplomacy and was horribly mean. I'll get over it in a few days.) 

My involuntary invisibility cloak

I was never invisible until I became a mother. This magic cloak is what I wear when I hear the kids watching a TV show that they oughtn't be watching (something with vulgarity or violence) and I slip off my shoes and walk down stairs and stand and listen to what they are watching before I enter the room and confiscate the remote control and pull cords from the TV and explain that it is time to play a board game. (This is how you get a 12 year old boy to cry like a toddler, "I-just-want-to-watch-TV!-Why-won't-you-just-let-me-watch-it,-Mom?-You-treat-me-like-I-don't-matter!" He goes on. And on. And on.)

Sometimes I see a mishap about to happen and the kids see me at one end of the room and when a disaster is about to strike, when, for example, a child is getting something out of a cupboard from the middle-to-bottom of a stack, I am suddenly there to protect my young child from a toppling mess and all the kids are dumbfounded as I seem like I suddenly appeared at the other end of the room. Is that invisibility? Maybe not. Maybe it is just super fast action, but it's cool!

At other times, I feel invisible and it isn't sneaky or cool and I can't take off my cloak. I suppose it is just part of parenting. This is where the kids do a half-arsed job at completing a task and I an not only invisible, but I am also put on mute. My husband is in on it with them. Why am I being so picky, they ask. I have a rule here that you don't put the large, stainless steal bowls into the dishwasher. These bowls, which range in size from a small measuring cup to a giant bowl in which I make a triple recipe of challah, in general take up a lot of space. Two big bowls can take up all the space on the lower level of the dishwasher, and a few of the smaller ones on top can leave little space for anything else. They get treated like pans and have to be hand washed is only to make room for the dishes, unless there are not that many dishes. Since my kids take the path of least resistance and throw all the bowls in and leave dishes in the sink, I have to say than NONE of the bowls go in to the dishwasher, ever. What can I say? Kids are lazy and I think that people in general are lazy. So, I have to tell them over and over to wash the bowls (and the big pans, and even rinse the plates off before putting them in the dishwasher) and they can't see or hear through my invisibility cloak.

Unfortunately my husband does not see why I have to do this and this makes it harder. He asks, "Why can't you just finish that up yourself if it is so important to you?" I explain that it's because the kids will not always have their mother around to do things and that they have to learn how to handle it in real life so when they live at an apartment and save up for a house that they won't be clogging up their dishwasher and have to give back all of their deposit when they move. Of course asking him to follow up on the kids doing this has gotten me nowhere, as my involuntary-invisibility cloak works on him best off all! 

One of my good friends has a great son of 18 years who is the most responsible, reliable male on the planet. If he is not the most reliable male on the planet, he is in the Top 1000 Reliable Males on the Planet to have EVER Lived or Who Ever Will Live. Of course I met him when he was 16 and he really impressed me. What I didn't know was that only in the previous 6 months had he become normal. Before that, she was on him 24/7. For three months when he was 12, he had to do the dishes every day because he had been caught putting them into the dishwasher with food stuck to them and she'd had to pay someone over $200 to repair the dishwasher.  She would watch him load up, but before he loaded up, he had to clean the debris trap in the dishwasher, first, this was a chore that he hated because it often stank. With him mom watching him, he gradually started washing off the plates and one day, he went to the food trap and it was clean. This happened several times in a row and he said to her, "It's clean all the time."

She said, "You have been RINSING." All the times that she had told him to rinse made no difference on him, so after three months, it dawned on him to rinse the plates. She still wears the involuntary invisibility cloak, but she says that experience is the teacher in her house. With her other kids, she sees the same mistakes being made and she has to walk them through the whole process each time. Now her eldest son is doing very well-- he is a Mr. Fix-It and he can fix almost anything in his house and he is pretty self-sufficient. While I have no worries for how this kid will be as a husband (he is also very level headed) and keeper of his home, I know it didn't happen on accident. (I hope whomever he marries sends his mom flowers on his birthday.) My friend produced this guy with her husband feeling as mine does.

So I forge onward, fighting my involuntary invisibility cloak and hopefully my children will come out OK and get it.

It sure is windy out in the Valley!

We have really had some of the worst winds that we have ever had. Gusts have been well over 80 mph, and yet life goes on with no closures since the roads are dry. Still, grocery shopping is not fun. Twice this week, I have had my shopping cart yanked from my grasp and had to run to retrieve it. I got slammed to the ground the other day when I took the dogs out for a walk. Am I really not that strong?


I can’t sleep when it is like this and the latest has been happening since the day before my birthday. One of my friends had a house next door burn down. She said there was a knocking on her door and that the fire had engulfed it before the rigs got there. This is where a 12 minute fire like "mine" would take less than three minutes. Of course I read this on FaceBook and didn’t sleep for several days. There is nothing paranoid on my behalf for worrying. It’s like pregnancies where once you have a problem, others become more realistic. Our house shakes and I hear shingles breaking off the roof, wind comes in via the oven vent and the elctrical outlets, and I had wind blowing down my chimney as I sat next to the fire while I knitted. It has never been this bad. I actually relaxed to let myself sleep by thinking of things that are far worse and being thankful that I wasn’t dealing with them. I was not dealing with my ex husband in court. I wasn’t on the phone with my dad making mean jokes about my reproductive-ity and my “hobby.” These things normally annoy me if I think of them, but when I figured it out, knowing that only my house could trap me and burn down but that I wasn’t under a threat, I was OK.

The winds are not abating after a day or two—this is the fifth solid day. We have a few breaks and then more wind. We should call this season, “wind-er.” What is the etymology of winter? I keep imagining Ol World Russian families, Jewish and Christian alike, forced from their homes by Lenin’s goons, and making their way across the fields and the frozen rivers in weather like this. I imagine how desperate they were to get away where there was no safe place, so the 20 jog steps to my car are no real big deal and I try to not complain. I have been hit by my car door, though. Getting groceries in requires that I take the big canvas shopping bags to the store with me (they have more space and are sturdier) and I fill up my driver’s side back seat. I call the kids from my phone and they come out with jackets zipped and I hold open the car door while they step in front and grab bags.

The car game

When my children were tiny, I used to play a game with myself when the day came to a close. I would carry them around the living room and sing to them or we would dance to fast mucic while counting cars. SURELY Daddy would be home within 100 cars! If he wasn't home within 100 cars, he'd SURELY be home within the next 100 cars! As soon as he came in, I'd either hand the babies off to him and go paint or draw, or I would talk his ear off. How we had nine kids, I do not know.

Now we have teenagers. When he is late, I have no baby to swing and dance with, but I have teens fighting with each other and evading chores and nothing getting done without threats to take things away.

I still play the car game.

Middle school is a drag

Today a young person came home from a dance, very much devastated. At an age when sports should be prevalant, her hormones are running. The boy she asked to dance with her told her that he didn't dance with other guys. At 16 a response of this nature will get blown off as the guy being immature, but today there was something wrong, in this person's mind, with herself. No one would slow dance with this attractive young woman; she wants to be held by one of the immature boys who seem so cool and so detatched and above it all. The young woman is not immature, but she is very smart and very sensitive.

Middle School dances are really a snake pit.

My own 14 year old will not be happy when I announce that no one under 16 gets to go out on dates or to dances, but I am backed up on this by my 21 and 20 year old daughters who always went to the movies or to friends houses instead of dances.

And. . . she's in!

Other than that the tester couldn't understand her, Starshine had taken over the test. After several silly questions that wouldn't stop, and a book that was many pages thick, my pre-school aged daughter took a deep breath, smiled and turned her book to the tester. "Show me orange!" she told her.

"Where is his elbow?"

The problem was. . . while I knew what she was saying, the Ph.D. with the speech degree was clueless, but very much amused. The purpose of my daughter being there was not to have her IQ tested, but to speak enough to be evaluated. They soon formed a detente where each one asked one and the test was soon over.

~~~

I am sad-- Starshine is going to pre-school soon. My last, 9 of 9, qualifies for special needs pre-school because of her speech. On one hand, I am thrilled because she has so badly been needing the interaction with other children, but on the other hand, I will miss her. We'd planned to send her to a yuppie-style children's play group once my other kids got settled, one that would do music or perhaps art. Thanks to the fire, we are having to take her to the public school, which is fine, but I'd wanted to indulge in this little treat for her, but really for my ego. You don't dream about having children and sending them to a public school special needs class. You imagine yourself going for lattes with other mommies for an hour or two while the children interact, then you imagine going back and hearing how well behaved your perfect child was.

Starshine won't care and this lasts longer and she will probably be more fun and I will have time to actually accomplish something creative with my 8-16 extra hours per week on my hands. Her school is close by and they have a huge playground.

As they grow older and move on, so must the mommies and daddies. With my eldest daughter, I was 25 when she was in kindergarten. I will be 42 when Starshine is in kindergarten. Children age their parents.

It's always nice to see the testers. I have known them for almost 12 years, they having met my eldest son when he was only a few months old. They said he had speech impairments and I was like, "You cannot tell this at 6 months!" As time went on, his problems became more pronounced. I got him help because I liked the teachers, but I really thought they were just looking for an easy case! (I was so delusional!) It was when Guy was 5 that his younger brother, Basil, showed up as average to advanced even in my eyes that it sunk in just how bad off Guy was. Guy is in junior high and still has delays.

They don't expect Starshine to have long lasting delays with her speech. The hope is to get her caught up by kindergarten, but sometimes they get worse as the kids develop. I will miss Starshine during the day when she is away at school, but I fully expect her to be herself and get into mischief when she is at home, just as her siblings manage to do! With her, I am happy for her to be going to pre-school, and I may go for lattes with the other moms, but I will laugh when I retrieve her and hear of how my littlest miscreant has pulled pranks and said goofy things and left people scratching their heads!

So my kids called 911. . .

This was written on a day that nothing burned down and plenty of good things happened. I was within two miles of my gas running out and I filled up my tank, I got some knitting done before my class this weekend, got my kids to where they needed to be. But. . . I took a shower in the late afternoon and got a pounding on my door shortly after I got out, "Mom! Nine one one is on the phone!"

I stepped out, I'd been hollaring at a child to find a hair brush for me. "Yes?" Apparently one of my younger children had called them and I was asked for my information. I looked at the caller ID to make sure it was who they said and gave it to them. A police officer came over within 30 seconds (we practically live next door to them) and I started rambling about my house fire. I think that may be part of why they called 911, because I had told them that in an emergency to call them and that was why I started rambling as I recalled the fire. Oh-- I had to share, I knew he'd understand.

Over the years, several of my kids have called emergency services and I never know who did it. I am torn between putting the phone up too high for them to reach it (a four and a five year old) to just banking on them doing it only once per child and letting the matter rest.

The officer spoke to my kids and told them that it is OK to call 911 in an emergency. Of course no one admitted to calling, so it was the dreaded phantom who breaks into bags of chocolate chips, gets into cookies and then glues the ends of the packages shut, sneaks into preservative laden dips and puts them back into the cupboard instead of the 'fridge where they belong and risks giving us botulism, etc.

In 20 years when I am 60, will this be something that I will recall or care about with the raising of children? Will there be something besides 911 to call for emergencies?

I am grateful for the response, but my nerves. . .

Now. . . some music for inhaling. . .

Thoughtful without meaning to be (Adorable child story)

When we were staying at the hotel, 7 year old Calamity Jane was just learning to speak Spanish. She was saying, "Buenos dias!" to everyone and really trying hard to show off her new skill and practice it. At the restaurant, she tried to order something and the waitress smiled and said she didn't understand her and she turned to me and rolled her eyes and said, "She doesn't speak Spanish. I'll have to try it in English." She was very annoyed even though she really didn't speak it well enough to carry on a conversation, herself.

One day she was with me at the hotel and the cleaning lady came in and CJ greeted her. The cleaning lady was/is from Guatamala and she exclaimed something very excited in Spanish. Calamity was taken off balance and turned to me and said, "She must be very smart! She speaks 'Panish!"

The cleaning lady gave her a hug and taught her the words for the equivalent of sweetheart and precious little girl, words that escape me now and were not in my head two minutes after she would leave. CJ was beaming and followed her around our rooms asking her about her country and her children. Before she left, CJ told her, "You are the importantest person EVER!"

The cleaning lady said that she made her day. She made mine, too.

I do have to laugh. . .

This evening a dear friend offered to take us all out. This is no small thing to do since with nine people in my family, we are pretty expensive. Cloud wanted to get dressed up which we all did. We looked great!

The kids over the age of 8 got to order adult sized meals and the younger ones got to order chocolate milkshakes. We toasted success and the resiliency of the Crumpet clan. This friend told the kids each individually what they were doing right in what is going on, not just to make my husbands' and my life easier, but for them, too. He talked about what a great group we are. My husband toasted me, saying that the greatest day of his life was when he decided to forgo his doubts and marry a mom with three kids and he said that I made every moment an adventure. I toasted the man who has made everything possible, who has been wise and loving when things have been rough.

The kids were very well behaved, then Mudd started feeling sick and I thought it was the commotion of the day. . . then Calamity Jane "got sick" neatly in her child's portion basket. She didn't want to drive in the car, so we walked the short distance back to the hotel. She got sick a couple more times and as of this moment, feels better. Mudd isn't sure how he feels. This is NOT a good sign!

Seven kids, two hotel rooms, one mom with a can-do attitude! I got through a fire last week, but the thought of dealing with the flu after chocolate shakes and pizza for the little people has me feeling very insecure! LOL

School has resumed!

Has it really been almost a month since I last wrote? blogging is one of my most rewarding writing experiences and I have been bogged down with Life!

School has resumed. I was sad over not being able to sign up for classes myself, but now I am happy because my suburban died and my husband is in the middle of a huge project that he couldn't get a little time out to help me get to where I would need to be so I would have had to drop the classes.

My kids are in a language immersion school. We have no bus service. I had been walking them to school, then coming home and having to walk back since Mudd is in kindergarten and starts school late, then walking back in the afternoon. It was a mile in each direction which was no big deal, but another mom drives the morning kids to school and takes them all home and I only have to walk Mudd to school. I look forward to getting the 'burb back, but the walks are really nice. We leave much earlier than we have to so we can look at leaves and berries and inspect the creek that we pass on the way to school. I remember walks with my mom when I was 5 and I wonder if these two will have fond memories of us walking.

The older two have a greater struggle with the immersion program but we are making them stick with it. Calamity Jane is having a great time and comes home glowing about her teacher and all her new friends. Her disposition is so sunny that you can get a tan sitting next to her; everything "couldn't be BETTER! I am so lucky!"

Cloud is doing really well with her sports and music. Her coach is a lady who I was in college with, who won every award for position in her sport that she could and I think she was MVP 4 years in a row. She has recruited Cloud for what she coaches and her music teacher also likes her and has told her to start trying out for things. Her music teacher remembered me from several years before when he worked with Peaches. He was standing behind me when he stopped and said that he recognized my voice. He remembered my last name even though it was different from Peaches' and that was really shocking to me, but he said I am pretty distinct. I think it was me scolding an errant toddler that jogged is memory more so than my voice. I have a way of saying, "Uh-uh-uh!" to naughty 3 year olds that is pretty distinct!

There was a case of Guy getting into mischief at school last week. Ahhh! Junior high! I hate dealing with this stuff, but we resolved it. I know it is just the start even if he is good for the rest of school. (Without going into detail, he has impulse control issues: in real life, these things have to be curbed. Thank goodness he is the only one of my kids to have them!)

With some time to just me and 3 year old Starshine, I am having quite a time getting my house organized. It is suddenly easy. Starshine sits and reads books or plays quietly while when Mudd is home, they get into things. I am shedding CRAP by the garbage bag full. My husband is pretty much a packrat and if I throw stuff out with him here, it's, "What are you doing? There are some more uses to that!" Of course if he throws out my stuff, I am as bad. Right now I am looking at things and saying, "Throw away, give away or keep?" Most of it is being tossed out. Everything we uy eventually gets used up and thrown out and it's bothering me. Since Tuesday is the start of a new month, they accept bags of things so I as of Thursday (two days ago) I started saving things again to take down to them.

I feel like I am getting old and crotchety. I'm evaluating my time. I used to love-love-love helping out in various places that were not nice to go to. Hospice, the prisons, homes for really sick people. . . those were my hang outs. I really enjoyed spending my time in those places when I got out and now I am wondering if I really liked them. Did I like them or was I ale to get a change from home and justify it? "They need me." I am doing radio now and that gives me energy. I like interviewing people and playing with sounds. Just for fun (I deleted it after I showed a few people in my house!) I took an interview and made it sound like we were in a bar and took the man's answers and used my own voices and made it sound like he was getting hit on while I interviewed him. I was painting a scene with sound! Anyway-- the old nurturing gigs that I had don't appeal to me now.

Part of the nurturing that bugged me was getting thanked. I hate being thanked-- interviews, yes, thank me for making you sound good and for the hours I will put in to editing! If I spend three hours sitting with someone who is sick, it's an act of love. Thank me once, then tell me that I bring sunshine into your life or that you get a kick out of me telling you funny stories. I don't really need words and I prefer to keep them to a minimum. I don't know why words of thanks bother me so much, but they embarrass me. These things are not what I want in my life now.

I'm purging things from my life. It is sad in some ways because I am not Florence Nightengale and I used to admire people who did those kinds of things. I still admire them, but I don't want to be like them. I have so much time and I have to be selective and ask how much time I can really devote to things and what I am getting out of them for what I put in to them.

I think that radio and writing about what I do is my area. I love going out on a volunteer event, trying it and writing about it. I have been asked to go out on something because of my work at the Examiner and I can't wait to dive into it. I feel so flaky knowing that I will love it, wish I could stay, but if I do, I will soon tire of it. It isn't about the need for newness so much as it is simply not my calling.

I have been hanging out with some new friends, a certain class of women who obsess over their weight. (It has to do with publicity.) My family practices Eastern Orthodoxy. We have numerous fasts and we just stay away from those foods and if offered, we are supposed to accept a small serving so as not to draw attention to the fast. This particular demographic of women worry about their weight and make an issue of it. They work out a lot, but if they see the dessert cart, they make an issue that goes like this:

"Oooooh! I like that Tiger Mousse cake but I'll need to work out an extra half an hour!"

Then another says, "Oh Shiela! You aren't fat!"

Shiela looks astounded and says in a conspiratorial whisper, "I've put on 10 pounds since June!"

I got ticked at an event and took the plate of petite fours from them as they stood staring at it and talking about how much weight they had to lose. Did they really want that little frosted confection? They'd have to work out at least 20 minutes! I said to them, "Don't stand around talking sh--! Either eat the damned things or don't, but don't stand around calling yourselves fat when there are people starving three blocks away and living in tents!" (I happen to be good at publicity for them, and they are interesting. . . and this may turn into a paying job. This stays in my life.)

This is all for now. There is much more to share, but I have a closet to clean and a birthday party to take a child to, not to mention a dessert to eat!

Thinking out loud

It has been a awhile since I wrote. Summers are long for me. I never wanted to be one of those parents who had the kids home over the summer then was counting the days until school resumed, but I am one. I am not short on imaginative ideas to keep the kids occupied, but I am short on cash. A lack of money combined with kids with short attention spans makes me not happy. Teachers are trained to work with kids and the kids of course have their pals at school.

The summer has been fun, however. I take the kids to the lake-- there is a little public dock near a local club that I take them to. I have three friends who belong to the club but they don't actually go. At some point I am hoping that one of them will sponsor me in so I can actually go there and volunteer and be active and by the way, enjoy their nice lawn! One of my friends has four children who are good friends with my children and I watch them for her (actually Cloud watches them for her at our house) and they have been fun. A lot of extra work, but never the less, fun.

I have covered two pageants. I was in a couple of pageants several years ago and enjoyed them. I like being on the other side of the camera. A dress store owner has been hinting to me that gravity has not been kind to my hips which I find irritating, but since she is happy that I am writing, I take the good with the bad!

Pageants are wonderful. More than an excuse to launch potential governors, they showcase women who are living and doing thing things in their communities. I have an issue with the swimsuits and have been appointed at large to be Ms. Alaska All American Woman for 2010. My goal is to bring this multi-level pageant to Alaska or at least help women who are in it representing Alaska to be able to go down. You don't have wrestlers competing in the same weight class, and marathon runners don't compete in the same age class. Who would pageant contestants compete in the same class? All American is like this. The two pageants who are up here are fabulous and very different, but they only choose one winner. The judges need to choose the contestant who is most likely to bring home the crown, but this means that a woman who is a size 20 does not really stand a chance against a women who is a size 6. If you look at the women who are winning the national crowns for the other pageants, they are in the 25-40 age range, size 4-8.

Raising money for this will be a challenge. I need to raise 3-5,000 for me to fly down to Florida. I do not have extra cash lying around. I have to raise it. While it seems like a lot to me, if I cannot raise this amount for me to go down, I will have a rough time raising more money to actually get with a talent agency to put this on and bring this pageant up.

My mom is getting married this weekend and I am officiating. It's a "God's eyes ceremony" where she is married but not officially. They have each other as powers of attorney should they get sick and they have everything lined up. Otherwise, if one gets sick, the other may go bankrupt trying to help the other. He's a really, really nice guy. My mopm thought he was shy. LOL After 48 years with my Yosemite Sam-John Wayne type father, he seems shy. He's respectful! But opinionated-- YIKES! Dyed in the wool Republican, and my mother is Progressive, but they get along well. I'm excited to get to officiate. It's a huge honour.

I am still here but not sure how to blog about life!

Ropi just asked if I am being fine as I've not been blogging lately.

Where do I start? Life is downright busy! I don't know if I have ever been this busy or been having as much fun doing it!

I have started getting some shows together for a small public radio station. I knew that being a housewife and not really getting out had taken a toll on me, but one of my friends there, and I think we are friends, had to tell me to stop apologizing to the people I was interviewing. Things would go wrong with the equipment and I'd be like, "OMG! I'm so sorry!" He told me that I am a professional, stuff happens with equipment, people get stuck in traffic, etc. and to just flex with the problems and waste no time saying I was sorry and to get on with things. I have been grateful and fawning to some big names that have granted me interviews to which he said, "You are media. You do your job, they interview with you and get publicity and time spent on telling people their story. It's a symbiotic relationship. STOP KOWTOWING!"

I am learning about putting together an actual NEWS story versus wanting to make my people look good. I have been asked, "Are you doing news or propaganda?" He was not suggesting that I be destructive, but honest. I just had to delete some of what I observed in a taped phone interview and when I did my cut of the show, he asked why I left a certain interchange out. I said that it wasn't flattering; he said, "An image is being portrayed by ______ and this contradicts that. You are contributing to their image by taking it out. Is this your intent?" (If it is, maybe I should be directing infomercials.) There was a lot to think about. I can leave it in and let listeners observe it without me pointing to it. They knew they were being taped.

The manager let me play with his i-phone and now I am hooked. This got me into using the equipment, too. I don't know why I had an aversion to using it. All I needed was for someone to show me what to do and spend an hour or so sitting with me and giving me direction, then turning me loose while they stayed in the room and acted busy and I could ask them questions when I needed help.

After we did that, I came home and edited alone and for the most part, was just fine. He was always a phone call or email away if I needed direction. Like me, he is a parent and stays up late with his technology so literally at 2AM we were Instant Massaging about what I was having trouble on. Radio is a medium like painting or writing. Once you have the tools and can use them even in a rudimentary manner, you can take off with them. I don't like the touch of plastic-- has that affected me? Every day I am getting better.

My eldest daughter gave me a laptop for Mother's Day. (One of her friends was selling hers as she updates every May for some reason so I got her old one.) I was shocked by what she spent and she said to me, "This is your tool for radio and writing. It's my contribution to the arts for now." She is an angel. I have an idea of what she spent, but it's not that that impacts me so much as the thought, her knowing what I so much needed, and her finding a way to get me something so important.

I have been writing for a paid news listing. My coverage of thoughtful things was getting a decent amount of hits, then I covered a beauty pageant. What do people want to read? They want lite.

I have been invited to the opening party of a local wine bar and restaurant because of another article. I will be covering a beauty pageant because a pageant organizer liked what I wrote about someone elses' pageant. I am really happy about this.

The kids are doing well, but if they are not entertained 24/7, they make mischief. I would so much like to have more money to be able to get them all into camps for part of the summer. We visit the library and go on hikes, but it's me just trying to give them something to do. I have started to feel like a prison guard as they spend a lot of time trying to get out of doing chores. The day before yesterday they didn't do their age appropriate jobs and yesterday they asked if I'd take them to the park and Cloud was mad that I didn't wake her up to go to someplace that she'd wanted to go (after staying up wayyyy late.) I told them that they had to do their jobs so I'd do the things that they wanted that we fun. I said that I was not doing wear and tear on my car if they were not helping to take care of where we live.

Calamity Jane has found a love of recipes in a children's party book. She is 6 and has found a notebook and has carefully started to plan out every member of the family's birthday parties and what is needed, from cake mixes to streamers. She loves going to the grocery store to price things out. She is a planner.

Yesterday I had to see the doctor for a cut finger. Mudd kept going up to the receptionist and offering her a toy banana that he said was a phone. She kept telling him that she was busy with her job. FINALLY after 30 minutes while I was getting stitched up, he offered her the plastic banana and she accepted. She pretended to talk on it for a couple of minutes, then she gave it to him, "It's for you," she said. He took it from her and looked at everyone in the waiting room, "She doesn't know it's just a banana!"

(That is one of his favorite jokes.)

A Trail in Mat-Su

One of the fun things that we enjoy while living in Mat-Su is hiking the local trails. With over 2,000, I feel like we are living in the Smithsonian of hiking trails! If we chose to hike a new trail each day, it would take us almost 6 years to start repeating them! Many places have pay-per-vehicle parking that today we couldn't afford, so to save money and going along with reccession thrift, we looked for a place that wouldn't cost us anything.


We decided to go to the Palmer Hay Flats. Anyone who commutes to Anchorage sees them every day, but how many go out to take a closer look? In almost 12 years of living here, and almost every time driving past them and thinking, “I really need to go out there,” we finally did!


We went on the Scoutridge Trail and Overlook at the Wasilla entry to the Hay Flats. The overlook is about 400 feet up the trail and is handicapped accessible. Of course between all of us with cameras, we all thought that someone else was getting a picture and no one did. There was an eagle who was perched in a tree and looking at us, and the kids were awed. (I couldn’t help but remember my first encounter with one at the Dutch Harbor dump, but I shut my mouth as the kids gave it adjectives like, “royal,” and “magnificent.” The kids are right; eagles are impressive.)


The trail was easy. If I had just had a baby, this is a trail that I would happily take a new baby on and carry in a baby carrier. We packed a light lunch, but unless you haven’t eaten, you don’t need to bring your lunch. (To the kids, it's a picnic! For what little trouble it is, do it! With kids over 8, they can help.) It’s just over a mile long and took us an hour only because we had to look at everything. Little Rose had to get a drink every three minutes, as did Mudd. She is 3 and he is 5; it’s their age. We expected it and just told them that it was good that they loved to drink water. The only problem was that we didn't see any outhouses. (Trying to teach a 3 year girl old to "use the bushes" is not easy, but once a 5 year old boy learns to use them, he could spray the whole trail. My husband says it's a male issue. I wish we'd told him to wait.)


The sun was warm and the air smelled wonderful. Alaska's flowers are starting to come out and attract the bees with their scent. I think I identified the flowers correctly—in the slide show, I am holding my hand next to a trailing bunch of flowers that I think are red currants. They make delicious wine or jelly in the late summer!


We walked up to an old gold panning area. We stepped over it with all of the older kids getting their feet wet. I held my husband’s hand to get across and (I wish I had taken pictures!) my husband stood with one leg on each side and picked up the smallest kids to hoist them over.


Cottonwood Creek’s bridge was out and while I went back with the small ones, my husband and the bigger kids walked down a muddy path to cross it. He said that it was worth it—they took the trail on the other side to look over the flats and see the arctic terns and eagles flying over the flats.


The Flats themselves are beautiful. At this time of the year they are still brown, but they are alive as new life pushes up through the grass and mud. We drove down a single lane hill to park and there are little puddles and ponds all over the place. My kids in crocs were not a great thing, but they were usually able to stay dry. Had it just rained, we’d have had some issues. We saw some falcons out, and I thought I saw a falconer in the distance. It’s hard to imagine that before the 1964 earthquake, that land had been rich farmland. Now it belongs to the arctic terns (who are gracing us with an appearance from their winter home on the other side of the world, Antarctica) and other birds that live there.

I have a slide show at the end of this article that you may like to see!

School bullies, uproar, angry Tea & resolution and life goes on

Two weeks ago, Basil came home from school kind of worried.He told me that some friends of his who aren't really his friends were harassing Guy on the playground and calling him "gay" (not a reference to his name which is very different from what I call him here) and "retardo." Basil went to them to tell them to knock it off which resulted in all the boys except for Guy getting called to the office.

When he told me, I insanely told him to not worry, were it an issue, they'd have called me. It was around the anniversary of Columbine and then that 11 year old, Jaheen Herrera killed himself. Still no word from the school. I called Guy's teacher and we talked and I told her that maybe a general discussion with all the kids in that class was in order, you know, "It's the end of the year, discipline is down, let's remember the rules."

Pressure mounted, I was assured that all was fine in spite of what Basil was saying and then last Friday at 4:07, he came home crying because he was in trouble and had to go through an anti-bullying session this week and he thought he had to write papers on it about not bullying AND standing up for his brother, something that Guy's teacher was mentioning.

I called the principal. He said that he'd talked to the kids and that as far as he knew, they just talked to him because I'd told Guy's teacher that a talking to was fine since I knew the kids.

Basil maintained that he was really in trouble and that this had gone to the school psychologist so I sent his teacher a chirpy letter, "Hey! Basil's telling me something silly and there has to be a misunderstanding since I wasn't notified. . . "

She justified it and said they didn't want another Columbine in a few years. EXCUSE ME? Not calling me, the parent of one of the accused and the victim, in spite of my contact with the school, was somehow preventing a Columbine incident? Any time a problem is bad enough that my kid gets sent to the principal and the school psychologist is brought in on the matter, I had BETTER be notified!

Basil didn't want to go to school until the problem was resolved which I backed.

The principal went off to deal with it and says that Basil is cleared, but I am beyond words furious!

I looked at Basil's parent report and all it said was, "Playground incident." There was no explanation, and had Basil not wanted to tell me, he could have just laughed it off, "Oh-- kickball, I hurt a kid, he thought I meant to, I didn't" and I have probably wouldn't have asked further.

Guy was feeling terrible because he didn't want to get anyone into trouble, just to make them stop. He is NOT a potential vengeful person with weapons.

It is very irritating that they didn't call me in any of this and that my son was so upset that he was afraid to go to school. Had my husband and I not intervened, this allegedly bullying incident would have gone by and been on his record. They had well over a week to let us know what was happening while I spoke to them a few times.

Next year I am getting them into a charter school so I will be around all the time and hopefully I'll hear things before they get to such a level, but with all the policies, they couldn't tell me when exactly I would have been notified, which is rather disturbing. Where are parents in the equation? If they are worried about something to tragic, and since I have been called about Basil talking to his pals in class, wouldn't this have been something to have called me over?

I am so proud of my baby!

One of the sweetest things to have happen is happening. Today Tiger (eldest child, 20 years old) invited me to come see her first department at the store where she works so this afternoon I went in to say hi and the store manager walked me through his store and showed me around while she worked. He knows that she is on her own, but he was pretty happy to show off his store and brag about it, so he told me things about the jobs he's worked there, his own life and things he has done-- it was like he wanted to let her mom know that it was a good place. When she came to us in her department, she told him how I made her take a certain class at another school that she didn't want to take, and how she had been a snarly little monster about going and how I'd pick her up every day and she was just mad. (Tiger is a physical person and this class was for her.)

She has been at this place for barely 3 months and that she is quite young surprised me that she was hired. He said it could be said that "that class" and her "inborn class" that got her the promotion. That made me feel fantastic. Another person came over and asked if I was the mom with so many kids and I was like, "Here we go again. . ." and Tiger said that she had used on her resume about handling people that she was the eldest of 10 kids. They didn't violate any personal stuff-- it was just so cool to have someone so proud of his store and then happy with my child. . .

New Language, Anywhere Is. . . and My Bathroom Remodel

I am very excited: I went to the lottery last night for an Immersion Program in the next town and Mudd, Dmitri and Guy were all accepted in to the program. There were no openings for Calamity Jane or Basil's classes but they were both drawn first to be at the tops of their wait lists. The laws of averages are on my side that people will drop out of the school and the teachers expect it, so I am excited and pretty much planning to get them all in. My house will be covered in sticky notes as we learn a New Language.

I will get the Greek eventually— my tutor wanted to cancel as Lent has picked up. I know the sounds of the letters now. I can follow. I have to get the kids speaking and understanding a new language decently by September. I start doing something and something else comes up, it’s a constant with me and annoys me. Such is life—I will learn Greek one day and I know I can learn it. Do you know the song Anywhere Is by Enya? If I ever become famous and important, that song will be my theme song in the Story of My Life.



I walk the maze of moments
But everywhere I turn to
Begins a new beginning
But never finds a finish
I walk to the horizon
And there I find another
It all seems so surprising
And then I find that I know

One of my psych profs in college compared me to a "sexy sports car with a random gear shift going 120 down a curvy road." I saw him a few years ago and we had lunch and he said I'd not changed, only picked up speed!

~~~~~

Now I am on a country road in life.

I have realized that for a long time I was volunteering in some heavy duty groups because I was good at them as well as because I needed to get out of the house. Now I am holding on to my moments with the kids, but for the past 12 years, I was just overwhelmed! How did I manage to get through the years with no help from my mother or any close friends, those long years of seemingly doing nothing but going from one baby to the next. Poor Darin would come home and I was out to yoga or wherever. I look at other large families and they have support. Having all the kids potty trained has been huge for me! I am like, "Wow! I have extra time!" I really can feel a difference. I don't have the need to be gone or get validation as I once did.

Darin tolerated me for 12 years of me being on autopilot. It is only now that I am seeing his huge sacrifice and appreciating him, but I don’t know if I have seen the full amount of what he has done for all of us—- me and the kids. I don’t know how he put up with me. I told him all that I just told you and he kissed my forehead and said that it meant the world to him that I had seen it, but he said that I too was being crunched and had demands also put on my body that he didn’t have. I have started massaging oil into his skin every day to show him that I love him. He says that I don't have to make it up to him but that he won't talk me out of trying!

Now I am volunteering doing things that play into my strengths. At the charter school, I will be volunteering with the kids, probably doing something with drama. I am doing a radio show and I am doing a reading hour with children on Saturdays that I love. These things are a blast. I don't like doing them-- I love doing them and I get my energy from them.



~~~

We are finally redecorating our bathroom. A dozen years of showers by often 7-11 people per day took it’s toll and it’s been in bad shape for 2 years but something always took higher importance. It has to be done right now. I had seen some things that I liked online and Lowes sells them so I remembered the names (Moen, Kohler) and not the prices and went down to pick them out with a budget of $2,500. The one faucet that I loved turned out to be $500! The vanity top was $3,000, although he told me that I have excellent taste. I am glad that the salesman told me and shifted my dream instead of Darin as there would have been a projectile hissy fit. I was very hooked on a certain look. The salesman asked me what I wanted when I realized that I couldn’t afford it and he said, “You want a clean, pretty bathroom with enough bath towel holders for the kids, and a working fan.” He walked me through the stuff they have on site that cost twenty per cent of what I had wanted.

The faucets are works of art! OK, the ones I didn’t get are works of art. I found out that grout is just not practical with an over worked little bathroom that so many use. We will start work on this in a few weeks—- Darin has to get a window put in first as well as clearing out our bathroom for the time being for everyone to use. I feel like everything screams, “This is what I can afford”-— not, “This is what I love.” I will love it when it gets put in. It's "mine."

He is also going to let me come up with a Trompe-l'œil mural in the next year or two. I will get my marble tiles if I have to paint them into a wall, gosh darn it!

G-d Grant You Many Years, Tiger!

Tiger is 20 today. She doesn't read my blog but I wish her a G-d grant her many here because I hope y'all send her happy vibes!

OK, turning 40 almost 4 months ago made me feel kind of old. Having my eldest child turn 20 is an age marker and I feel old, although a couple of weeks ago when we went shopping for paint, a sales lady at XXXXXX thought that she and I were sisters and that Starshine (who gloms on to her when she is home) was Tiger’s baby! If Tiger turning 20 makes me feel old, I will be a bit blue in 17 years when Starshine turns 20. Something tells me that no one will think that we are sisters then . . . I will miss her when she leaves for Wyoming to fight fires. I wish that I had the money to buy her a return ticket home or me a ticket to fly down to see her at the moment she needs me, but I have faith that she won’t need it. Of course she will not need me. Right? (Tea bursts into tears!) The kids all love her so much. She is a ray of sunshine and sweetness. A bit oblong in this world of circles, but she comes by it naturally. She says she is not worried because she knows I will pray for her 24/7-- I told her that this is a bad insurance policy!

She was born the day before the Exxon Valdez Oil Spill. My ex bought a pearl necklace for me and I was really embarrassed because we were borrowing money from my parents to pay doctor bills. Everyone said that he doted on me, but he did that because he wanted to look "big"-- he was that way. My then-husband was bragging about what he spent, slapped me across the face for asking him to return it so we could pay for doctor bills and get the necklace in 10-20 years when we could afford it, and he'd scream at me for not wanting his pushy mother around us for our "Candle Light Dinner." She was ten years older than I am now, but she was as mature as a 2 year old. I still don't like her, but I don't need to worry about that because both of my daughters are now over 18 and she is OK to them-- manipulative as hell, but they know how to handle her because I raised them.

I would try to quietly divorce her father a few months later. My parents wanted me to stay with him, "reasoning" that if I wasn't calling the police that I must have deserved to be slapped and simultaneously asking why I kept the bloody necklace when begging for money that they didn't expect to ever get back. I had always thought that my dad would have killed anyone who hurt me, but he tried to guilt me in to staying with him. That was a long time ago.

I remember birthing Tiger like it happened yesterday. I was in a c-section and I wasn't "out"-- I could still hear and feel, but as much as it hurt, I was thankful to G-d that I could be present. The doctor was not related to me, but I told her that my baby was claustrophobic and that she'd be big. The doctor said that she never had big babies and she was a bit bigger than I was so mine would be small and that she couldn't be claustrophobic. She weighed 9.8 and would not be swaddled when they tried to! I was right! I knew!

I do not know how many more times I will see her. She came home yesterday, very much excited and hoping to pass the test (running 3 miles with 45 pounds on her back 25 minutes in a few weeks) and can’t wait to go to Wyoming. We get 20% off at her store on a special night and she is bringing us to there to shop for our bathroom remodel. . . this may be one of our last projects with her before she starts having children of her own and hopefully comes home. I so much worry about my children being as disjoined as my sisters and I. She says they won’t be, that my kids are as much her kids in some ways because she helped out so much and would quit college to care for them if G-d forbid anything happened to Darin and me. (And I have whined about a lack of career!)

I've Created a Phone Monster. . .

Tiger told Calamity Jane that she could call her. She she did. Sixteen times while she was in math class. Lovely. Tiger wasn't mad and was laughing, "What a great excuse to tell the kids about phone etiquette!" It wasn't just Calamity-- it was ALL the kids wanting to be cool and talk to their older sister.

Cloud has oral surgery tomorrow on her teeth-- several are not coming in correctly. She will look more beautiful and be able to eat better so it's worth it, but mon diu, children are costly.

A Mormon friend has invited me to a Relief Society meeting-- this should be fun. They knwo what they are doing about storing food and being moms. I actually enjoy hanging out with them.