Clouds of dust

I haven't been cleaning much.

I have dedicated most of my newfound free time to self-improvement. As many of you know through our talks, this is a good investment right now. I am exercising, making decent dinners, and keeping up with dishes and laundry pretty much on a daily basis. Y'know, keepin' at a Level One on the housekeeping front.

In my continuous quest to further my housekeeping levels, I decided to work towards a Level Two. (If you are unfamiliar with my housekeeping levels, click here.
When I fired up the vacuum, it actually spit up a small cloud of dust at me as it got started.
I'm not kidding.
It's been a while.

Oh the nerve of it.

But here's what I think. Tonight, as you raise a tall cool one, give a cheer to all those hardworking moms out there who are taking care of themselves, trying to nurture strong healthy little bodies and minds, who are sitting down to read or play games or exclaiming in the 10th round hide-and-seek that oh my gosh under the bed, what a UNIQUE place to hide I never wouldda found you, and let us remember that it's OK if your vacuum spits up in disgust of you or your bathrooms smell like a port-o-potty, because you know what? That other stuff matters the most.

Lazy farm days

We went to the farm this past weekend. This is my grandparents farm that although has a huge hole with their absence, is still a vacation getaway for the rest of us.

The boys love going to the farm.

There are 4 wheeler rides, apples to be picked, rocks to be found, and sand piles to play in. There are smores to be eaten, fresh raspberries to pick, and cold drinks of water from the spring.

Mom with Grandma's two surviving sisters. Clara is on the left and at 99 is sharp as a tack.

Mom beating Grandma's surviviving brother at cribbage. He sure didn't like that. He claims to be the 1989 Wisconsin state cribbage champion. I can neither prove or disprove this claim via internet search. But I'm leanin' towards not...

Sooooo tired..............

They built this with Daddy. It's called Rocktropolis.

Mmmm fresh raspberries

We visited the cemetary where Grandma and Grandpa are buried. I find cemetaries fascinating, especially those containing your ancestors. I leave with so many questions. Why did my great-great-grandparents lose two children so young? And how did they bear that? How did other families bury five of their children, under age 5?

We were sitting by the gravestones, and I told Jack that he could talk to his great grandparents because they could hear him. You should have seen his face—it lit up, and he said, REALLY? They can hear us? And then he just sat there and talked and talked.

"Thank you for the farm. We're having a lot of fun there. We're taking 4 wheeler rides, and finding rocks. We sure are glad you had the farm for us. And thanks for being in the army and protecting us. Goodbye."

And now, days later, Luke and I were sitting at the table, and he was still thinking about what I'd said, so he asked me this string of questions:

"Does your skeleton go to heaven?"

"What about your heart?"

"Are you alive in heaven or all cut up?"

"Can you talk when you're under the ground?"

Whew. Good questions. I'm glad that his little wheels are turning all the time. But hard to answer.

If only it were as easy for me to just open up and sit there by their gravestone and have a wonderful little chat with them. For some reason it's hard for me to open my mouth and speak the feelings and words in my heart and mind, but my heart is full of love, memories, and so much missing of such incredible people. We love you!

Happy Day

I am happy today for:

• A little one who smells mostly like dirt, plus a little sweat

• A big one who smells mostly like sweat, plus a little dirt

• 
  
  Comments from the little one like, "Oh poor Mama, she has wrinkly on her head"
• 
  
  Comments from the big one, like, "Oh no Mom, I don't want to wear that shirt! That shirt is only for church and going to Grandma's for Christmas!"
• 
  
  A delicious apple pie I made from scratch, using Grandma's recipe and my own apples
• 
  
  Our new school schedule/routine, which allows me to exercise 3-4 times a week and still spend more "quality" time with the kids
• 
  
  Knowing what's for dinner before noon, and feeling good about what I set on the table
• 
  
  The energy that this exercise and eating well is providing me
• 
  
  The crown jewel of my garden produce:

• 
  
   The potatoes, carrots, green beans, cherry tomatoes, green beans and cucumbers I also brought in today

Book review: Lone Survivor

I just finished a book, called Lone Survivor, by Marcus Luttrell:

I found it fascinating. It was the quickest read I've had in a long time, and gives me the desire to read more non-fiction than I usually do. I love reading novels, as well as watching movies, and they often stick with me and make me think for several days. However, six months to a year later, I can hardly remember if I've seen that movie/read that book, let alone tell you much about it.

But a book like this will stick with you. I have endless respect and admiration for our troops. I could not/did not answer that call and I so admire their bravery. This book explains, from the author's perspective (pictured above), what training to be a Navy SEAL is all about. Sure makes you think next time you complain about a sore ankle, or itchy mosquito bites all over, that it really could be worse. MUCH, MUCH worse. And, of course, the story then goes into the mission that cost more SEAL lives than in any mission before.

Even if you wouldn't think you would be interested in a military non-fiction book, I encourage you to read this. Here's a quick summary of the book:

Petty Officer First Class Marcus Luttrell was born in Huntsville, Texas in 1975.

A graduate of BUD/S Class 228, he was the only survivor of the fateful events of June 28, 2005 in Afghanistan. Luttrell and three teammates from SEAL Team TEN were assigned to a reconnaissance mission, operation RED WING, in the Hindu-Kush mountain region of Afghanistan. Their objective was to gather intelligence on Taliban movement in the area. Luttrell’s team was eventually discovered and outnumbered by over 200 Taliban fighters. Petty Officer Luttrell was the only to survive enemy contact. In the rescue mission that ensued, 16 Special Forces personnel, including 8 SEALs, died when their helicopter was shot down by Taliban fighters. It was the largest single-day loss of life in the SEALs’ history.

In 2006, Petty Officer Luttrell was awarded the Navy Cross for combat heroism.

His full story is documented in his heroic account of the operation, entitled: Lone Survivor.

Marcus’s twin brother, Morgan Luttrell, is also a SEAL, still on active duty.

Next up:
A Life's Work; On Becoming a Mother

One reviewer says:

"She captures the absolute shock of suddenly finding yourself responsible for another person—with no training, no guidance, and indeed, no one coming from their planet to take them back. A brilliant book—and so funny too."

I'll let you know how it is!

Remember, if you are looking for a suggestion for your next book, or would like to learn more about any books mentioned, just look to the right side of the blog, where you can click on a book title and it will take you to Amazon to read more about it or order a copy.

Revelations in a tutu

My small blonde child, Luke, is all boy.

It became clear to me that he fully realized he was a boy, and what being a boy entails, at about 20 months old.

I was not the brainchild behind putting Luke in a tutu. I will have to blame you, Cindy, for that. She casually mentioned that Luke would make such a pretty girl. We happened to be sitting by her daughters dress up clothes. Well, one thing led to another, and we decided just to see what he'd look like. In fact, I will actually blame the husbands, who were out golfing that day, which led to our free time, which led to this. This mama will not take the fall.

First came the wonder:

Realization, shock and horror all hit simultaneously:

And finally, there was the rage and panic:

Now, you have to admit. He would have made a beautiful girl. Just look at those curls!

Yet somehow, this little 20 month old boy just knew that this wasn't right.  Boys don't wear pink tutus.

So, I dunno, maybe this is where it all started. The "I hate anything girl" that so permeates his being. Oddly, his two best playmates are girls, but apparently, this is different. He just won't associate with any girl stuff.

Example #1:

Luke drops his one and only sucker in the doctor's office as soon as he unwraps it. Obviously it must be thrown away. The doctor herself, along with the nurses, scramble to find him another one to pacify the wailing. But, alas. The sucker that is brought has a pink wrapper on it. Game over.

Example #2:

Luke is playing with a deck of cards. He hands me all of the queens. He says, "Here Mom, I don't want the girl cards."

Example #3:
I say excitedly, "Guess what Luke, you are invited to S's party!"

Luke: "Yea!!"

Luke: Gasp, "Oh, no no no! I can't go because she's going to have a girl cake!"

These are the things that make Luke unique. I know this unique personality will serve him well and I hang on to that in moments of panic that he might not "fit in". Because if "fitting in" means he will become the 15 year old I observed this weekend, with 2 karat fake diamond studs in his ears, walking around with a 2 liter of Mountain Dew, asking questions to other kids like "Are you rich? Because I heard you are rich", or "Why do you always wear a red shirt?", all for the benefit of the other boys he was ringleading, I don't want any of it.

Give me my boy who runs outside of that pack anyday. Just don't ask him to wear pink.

Editors note: In case you were wondering, I am using a hillbilly scanner to show older photographs not saved to my computer. This scanner works by taking a photograph, of a photograph, to post to the blog. Don't be jealous, someday you can own a hillbilly scanner too.

Exploring Iowa, part deaux

This past weekend, we hit the trails again to explore. We drove to Des Moines, the largest metro area in our state, but still considerably smaller than Indianapolis, where we were before—only about a third of the size.

Anyway, the state fair was going on so we wanted to check it out. We have been to the Wisconsin state fair many times, which was very fun. A big eat fest/drink beer fest/music fest, plus some ag thrown in. Then, we hit the Indiana state fair. Total opposite fair. Very agricultural, little party atmosphere. I asked where the beer garden was and you'd think I'd asked where the topless dancers were stationed. "Uh mmm, ah, maam, there's no beer here at the state fair."  The Iowa one came in the middle--lots of ag stuff, but also some beer gardens thrown in and some evening bands. A nice mix.

It was SUPER hot, one of those days where you walk around sweating, and don't realize in all of it that your thighs have rubbed together in heavy sweat all day and are completely chafed by the end of the day. Not that this type of thing happened to me, I've just heard of others.....MY thighs surely don't touch each other. Anyhoo, brings on lots of grumpy people too who just want you out of their way because they are hot and sweaty and their kids are also complaining of being hot and sweaty and tired of walking, etc.

We dropped $100 within the first 39 seconds or so of arriving. How does this happen? Who knows. Maybe when rides take 3-5 tickets each and the kids want to ride everything. Oh well, this only happens once a year, right? And we had fun.

We never did figure out if there was a real person in there or if he was all remote controlled. Very cool.

Mmm ice cream from the dairy barn. Yum Yum.

The famous butter cow. WOW. It's all made of butter.

As is all of this.

Bad picture, but they loved this ride. Just looking at it is enough to make Daddy want to throw up.

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Sunday, we continued our explore Iowa adventures and traveled to Guttenberg, a really quaint little town along the Mississippi river. Our friends and neighbors invited us to go on their boat in that area, where they were familiar with the river. It was a great time. So relaxing.

Jack needed to challenge himself to do this, which is always good.

First day

Tuesday was the first day of school. I must say I've been ready for this. I think the boys need new things to occupy themselves. I think I'll be a better, more organized, healthier and happier mom. I hope that by getting all of my "stuff" done earlier in the day, I can be more present for them when they are home.

Really, the hardest part of the first day wasn't the being apart, though it felt different. The hardest part is letting them back into a world where you are not in control. You don't know who they talk to or what is said to them. You can't control who they hang out with or bad words or behavior they witness. You aren't there to say, "Say thank you! Say please! Excuse us!" when they don't use their manners. You can only hope and trust that the little people you are forming will be educated enough and strong enough to weather those challenges in the best way possible on their own. And hope that whatever they might hear/see/experience that bothers or challenges them will be shared with you so you can help them find their way.

I'm a 2nd grader!

Luke's in a preschool that's modeled much like kindergarten but less sit down/focus time