Music to My Ears

 
Scrubbing the toilet the other day wasn't quite the chore it typically is. Yes, I actually said that. Only because of the lovely background music, though.

You see, Sweet Cheeks was reading her sister a book. They hovered over a book all close and cozy-like the entire time I cleaned the bathroom. Crazy, right? Crazy and wonderful. Both that Sweet Cheeks is already reading, and that she's reading to her sister.

The girls have been playing incredibly well together lately. Of course there is the typical bickering, tattling, punching, kicking and hair pulling that all sisters put each other through. But more often than not they are best friends.

And those days when I'm not forced to referee every two minutes make me remember why staying at home to raise my girls is the best choice I've ever made. Until tomorrow when the truce is broken and Referee Mama is on duty. All day. Then I'll need another reminder.

There and Back Again

To Arizona. Back home, and some places in between - mostly this place called Life, really. That's where I've been. Somewhere along the road I lost my way. I once wondered how I would ever find enough material to supply a blog that's not a complete yawn fest. Then a transformation occurred and I began to see life as a series of potential blog posts. Well, that I saw the possibilities of blog posts in every day life is more accurate.

That's where I lost my way. Enough time passed between posts and I went from noticing a barrage of potential blog fodder to forgetting to even look for those things. Thus, the lapse in time. Worry aside - I have returned. The prodigal attempted blogger. Not that anyone but the nagging at the back of my conscious has even noticed the absence. At this point I wasn't planning to document our adventures. But then I was sifting through pictures remembering how much fun we had. I can't just pass by as if it never happened. I figure a glimpse will do. You can see pictures on my other blog.

• Arizona was wonderful albeit not as warm as I had hoped it would be
• I will admit to wishing we lived there on more than one occasion
• All of my siblings made it, though we were all together for just hours rather than days. At least we got family pictures.
• Ragnar was spectacular
• My parent's lemon tree was prolific. As in lemons the size of grapefruit. Seriously. I came home with 35lbs. Don't be jealous.
• Sweet Cheeks went to school at her Auntie Kenna's preschool
• And we visited Auntie LaNae's family in Yuma - what I've always called the armpit of Arizona. It's really not that bad. Once you get passed the smell of the lettuce plants. Plants, as in factories.

I had said I was going to visit Arizona to run Ragnar, but of course the real reason was so my girls could make actual memories of their family. Addie Cakes was an infant the last time we were there, so she was essentially meeting her cousins and some Aunties for the first time.

Before we left she had a hard time grasping the idea that she had cousins other than her "Virginia cousins", whom we see regularly. That is one of the hardest things about living far from family, which is actually why we are in Northern VA. Otter and I both wanted to make sure we were close to at least some family after we graduated from college in Utah. Virginia won. This was before we had children and the difficulty of ensuring meaningful relationships with my side of the family hadn't registered. Of course had we moved to Arizona instead the situation would just be reversed.

But now both of the girls have memories of their family. They see pictures and know names, and make associations that in all reality are probably just a vague recognition of a memory - for Addie Cakes, at least. But the associations are there. And for now that's all that matters. So while I miss my family every day, at least now I know it's not impossible. My girls love and miss my family - their family - more than the space that divides us.

Apprehention and the Princess

Princesses give me anxiety. They kind of always have. I'm not talking about the Disney kind, of which I have issues with that I won't delve into now. I'm talking about those girls who really are normal in every way except that they are treated like princesses by Daddy. And of course this gives them the excuse to act like a princess all the time. You know the ones. Even worse are the ones that are getting married. They're the reason the term Bridezilla was coined.

Imagine my apprehension when, way back in 2010, a friend of mine asked if I would consider photographing her brother's wedding. The week after Christmas. Don't get me wrong. I know there are plenty of brides out there that are perfectly sweet, gracious and kind. But you know how it is when a stereotype gets stuck in your mind.

My natural instinct to avoid Bridezilla coupled with my inexperience and of course the fact that it was so close to Christmas promptly brought the word "no" to my lips. Assured by the implied promise of lowered expectations due to the need to cut costs, and the fact that the family was easy going, I agreed to think about it.

It took me a while before I agreed. When I told Otter about the proposition his first words were "Oh man. That's a disaster waiting to happen." Yeah, exactly the supper supportive vote of confidence I was looking for. I think he imagined some Bridezilla that would tear me apart at my first for-pay gig. So, really, not all that different from my first impression. Once I agreed to do it he was incredibly supportive and even helped me overcome my jitters.

Fast forward a few months and the pictures are taken, processed, and the CD is on it's way to the Bride. As promised she was sweet and easy going. Certainly not anywhere near the princess of my nightmares. It was a great learning experience for me and I'm grateful for the opportunity. There are definitely things I will do different should I shoot another wedding, but over all I'd say not too shabby for my first gig.

And - just maybe - I'm on my way to overcoming my princess complex.  After all, just because someone looks like a princess doesn't mean they'll act like one. What a relief.

At Long Last

They say "Home is Where the Heart is". I've considered Virginia my home for years, but part of my heart is still in Arizona where I grew up. It's been two years since I've been back to visit, but the dry spell is about to come to an end. Yippee!

It's kind of funny because at this point in my life I've lived away from Arizona quite a bit longer than I ever lived there - 9 years, to be exact. That's how long I lived there. And while I was there I wanted nothing more than to move away. Yet even while I was gone I craved to go home to Arizona. To this day when asked where I'm from it's Arizona I claim.

One might wonder why we're making the trek out there now. We being the girls and I. After all, it's not the holidays and school is in session. I've kind of boycotted traveling for Christmas. And summers in Arizona don't agree with me. Yes, it's a dry heat which isn't as oppressive as the 90 degrees with 80% humidity we see here, but 115 degrees and more is just miserable. I'm just saying.

Back to my point - this is the last year before Sweet Cheeks is in school. Next year when she goes to Kindergarten life will never be the same. So I'm taking full advantage. Even if she will miss 2 weeks of preschool.

Truth be told, that is only half the reason. The real reason for going when we're going is RAGNAR: 12 people racing 200 miles in 24-ish hours. The reason we're staying two weeks is because we found a really (I mean R-E-A-L-L-Y) good deal on tickets that just happened to go up significantly if I chose different dates. It's meant to be.

So, Ragnar: My sister Rebecca works for an oral surgeon who is sponsoring a team for the race. Never ones to be left out of a fun race, Lester and I campaigned for a spot on the team. Really they were short a few people, so we were accepted as two warm bodies to complete the required 12 team members.

The oh-so fun part - other than the endorphin kick from the pain of running the equivalent of 3 10Ks and not sleeping in 24 hours - is the three of us will be together in a van that two of our other sisters will be driving. Five of the 7 of us together! In one van! It's going to be so much fun! I kind of feel bad for the other runners in our van.

And this trip gets even better. The last time the seven sisters were together was the last time I was in Arizona. It's looking very hopeful that we'll be together again while I'm in town. Everyone has crazy schedules, so we may have only one day with everyone in Arizona at the same time. But if all goes as planned we'll be together. And that's all that matters.

In mind of keeping things real - it's not all going to be fun and games. It will be for me, but not so much for Otterpop. He will be left at home - alone and abandoned to fend for himself while forced to bankroll our expedition. Well, maybe it will be fun for him too. Alone time is rare, so this just might be good for him. Except...

The really unfortunate part is that he's traveling for work the first two weeks of February, and we're traveling the last two. Anyone for a month without really seeing their spouse and family? Poor Otter. Luckily he'll be in the care of his sister and grandma who will make sure he doesn't go hungry. Sweet Cheeks said "Daddy's going to be spending a lot of time at our cousins house when we're gone." She knows him well. He is and will be sorely missed.

p.s. I cut bangs. Really short bangs. Think something along the lines of this:

Maybe a little shorter. Otter thinks I look like my mom, and one of my friends said I look like a little girl. I'll let you decide for yourself, but I like it. I don't have a good picture right now, but I'll post later.

Toodles.

Who Needs Christmas When There's Laundry Day?

Rotating laundry today brought about so much excitement from the girls you'd have thought it was Christmas. Of course it was their laundry that was coming out of the dryer, but with practically everything that came out there were shouts of excitement - "OOOOh Pink Blankie!" "Oooh Monkey Jammies!" "My Doggie Shirt!" And so on. It was pretty funny.

Then I realized it wasn't too long ago that  I, too, was excited about laundry. See, there are lots of things that can motivate me to do laundry. A lack of clean unmentionables, for one. But laundry is pretty much one of the things I hate most about keeping house. It's up there with cleaning toilets. A necessary evil.

However, a few months ago we had to get a new washer/dryer set. It's a long story how that came about, but needless to say we had been convinced that the only way to go was with a spiffy High Efficiency kind. The day the set arrived you'd have thought it was Christmas for me. I couldn't wait to do a load of laundry. The fact that there were about 15 loads waiting could have had something to do with it, but I now had a washing machine that sung to me. Literally. It's really the bell to alert you when a load is finished, but I suppose it's the manufacturer's way of helping us whistle while we work.

Fast forward to now: The joy of laundry day was fleeting and the novelty is completely gone. Although, I am happy to have a washer/dryer that not only works but even saves us money. And I do smile a little when I hear it singing.

Mmmm.....Butter.

Julia Child once said "one can never have too much butter." At least that's what she said in the movie "Julie and Julia". We all know how accurate movies are, so it's got to be so.

Apparently someone in my family agrees and would like to eat it by the cube. I thought it was the little one, but the big one fessed up. Not Otterpop. The other big one.

Anyone need a monster to come visit for a while? May subsist on a diet of butter and not a whole lot else.

Tripping Over My Own Feet

I'm a bit of a klutz. I can't tell you how many times I've been walking along and out of the blue stumbled. Not even over a crack in the sidewalk, which would be pretty bad in and of itself. Nope, just my feet.

Not only do I trip over myself, any sport involving balls threatens to give me a coronary. A debilitating lack of eye-hand-coordination - plus the fact that I'm a klutz that trips over my feet - has cursed me since the time I was a girl. I still have nightmares of volleyball in 7th grade P.E. I eventually got over the fear of my feet and proudly call myself a runner. I can't say the same for balls. Overcoming my fear of them, that is.

It's kind of the same with yoga. When I started practicing yoga while in collage I fell over many, many times in the balance postures.  I hated them, yet I found an inner drive that pushed me through. Soon they became my favorite poses. In fact, (tooting my own horn here) I am often one of only a few people in a yoga class that go deep into those postures.

All this has given me inspiration for the new year. Those pesky resolutions and all. You see, there's been a bit of balance lacking in my life lately. The figurative kind. I think I've already established the physical kind has been lacking for years. Most of 2010 was out of whack. I was either in manic mode making sure my life was close to perfect, or a slug. Hence the reason The Blog was neglected for pretty much all of December. Maybe that was just the holidays that got to me. It's gotta be the holidays because I was definitely out of slug mode my then.

I know I'm certainly not the only person that struggles with the concept of a balanced, yet fulfilled life. After all, "Balance" seems to be the catch phrase of our generation. The ideal that pretty much no one can attain. It's kind of annoying. Yet as with all things cliché there is more than a grain of truth.

It seems that we are expected to be perfect in all we do. At least that's what we tell ourselves. Stop me if you've heard this. Yeah, thought so. I won't elaborate. I'll just say that as hard as I try to prevent external forces from derailing my personal progression and happiness it's pretty much impossible.

If running and yoga have taught me anything it's that it takes work to get better, and that you can only be as good as You can be. There will always be someone better and worse than you. So I've made resolutions. Most of which really aren't all that new. All of which will hopefully guide me to the happy equilibrium of self satisfaction with the desire to do and be more.

I have a sneaky suspicion that my list is a bit on the aggressive side which is what tends to get me in this situation anyway. At least it is being viewed with a fresh set of eyes. And that gives me hope.

So heres to a new year and new goals. And no. Overcoming my fear of a ball is not on that list.