And She Emerges from her Silence...

Well.

I knew I was ready to poke my big toe back into the pool of blogging after a particularly hellish day last week that began with my toddler sneaking a sword (plastic, from Disneyland, but still foolish for me to let him carry it in public) into a restaurant at a breakfast meeting and impailing innocent diners and ended in me calling my oldest daughter a sociopath.

It was then when I knew I needed this like a junkie needs a fix was ready to come back. So to my two and a half readers left - I'm baaack!

When your family encounters a crisis like we did this summer, priorities seem to crystalize, and suddenly time spent away from my family clacking away on the computer just wasn't making the list. I really needed to get away. I can report that although my brother-in-law is still paralyzed, he makes progress every day and is able to live and work from home and be with his wife and boys. And of course, the passage of time, the healing of sadness and the re-adjustments we've all made have enabled me to resume a lot of things put on hold.

Some of you may know that I'm working on a book on blogging with some talented ladies. It's an amazing project and while I can say that as the co-editor I have a lot of work ahead of me - the bulk of the talent is coming from our contributors. If you have an amazing story to share relating to how blogging has changed your life, or if you want to point me in the direction of an incredible blog written by a mom I may not know about (and I haven't been reading a lot of blogs lately) please send me a note! Maybe you or someone you enjoy reading will be in bookstores near you next year!

I'm glad to be back swimming again with all of you.

Splash!

It's all Such a Norman Rockwell Life

On occasion, my cousin likes to send me snippets of her life. I like to do the same, and we enjoy guessing who's life is more likely to make one of us cry funnier at the moment.

They say that families who eat together enjoy closer bonds, fewer issues at school, and stronger ties to both family and community. You decide.

Excerpt from Get in the Car's table:

Maddie: "I'm a vegetarian! I won't eat chicken!"

Chloe: "I'll eat the chicken, mom. Mmmmm. Chicken." [shoots look at sister to indicate that she won round one of who is the better daughter]

Jacob: [making rude sounds with armpit] "Mom? Does chicken make your muscles big?"

Jack: [places cheese in water glass]. "Pthpfh."

Bob: "Let's talk about me."

Maddie: "Can I picket KFC? They torture chickens."

Chloe: "I finished my state report early. Did you know that the chicken was almost the state bird of Delaware? Milk is the official state beverage. Did you see how I finished my milk?"

Me: "Bob, please uncork the wine."

Snippet from My Cousin's Recent Evening Repast...

Cousin: "So, when did you know you wanted to marry me?"

Husband of Cousin:"Oh probably that night I got really drunk at that party and was really rude to you about the topic of marriage and then I was really hungover the next day and we went out to breakfast and I threw up outside the restaurant and everyone saw. When you stuck around after that, I figured you were a keeper."

Cousin:"Oh."

Husband of Cousin:"And also, I think I was just ready to get married, you know? I realized the whole dating thing was bull crap."

Cousin. "Oh. That's pretty romantic, O."

Husband of Cousin: "I know, I never say romantic things, do I? But I was always really attracted to you."

Cousin: (Brightening) "Really? What do you mean, always?"

Husband of Cousin: "Oh, like since the first time I met you at that apartment building. I thought you were hot."

Cousin: (Batting eyes) "Really? Like hot, how?"

Husband of Cousin: "Can you believe they charge $33 for this rack of lamb? I mean, this is a $12 serving, at most. We should have gotten nachos at the bar."

Cousin:"Oh."

Touche

While lounging poolside at the resort we just returned from with the kids...Important to note that my children attend a school where they are required to wear sun hats outdoors and sun safety is high on everyone's minds...we have a lot of sun and are close to the harmful rays up in the mountains...

[Whining] "Uh! I can't find my goggles."

Me: [splayed on chaise lounge to brown all parts of thighs, since we all know brown thighs are way better than white thighs] "Oh noooo, maybe you should stop whining first, then look in your beach bag."

Child: [shooting me an irritated look] "I may be whining, but at least I'm not a...not a sun user."

Small Talk

Saturday Bob and I took the older kids skiing. It was the perfect day for it; sunny, cold, no wind, and just the beautiful snowy mountain to enjoy with our kids.

And we did enjoy it. The girls had a blast, and Bob got to help me get off the ski lift like an old lady. He is a really good skier, and I'm perfectly happy keeping it to the lower slopes. Anyone remember what happened to Sunny Bono? That's not going to be me. Bob is very patient with all the non-hotshot skiers he lives with, although he has a habit of stopping short right in front of me and blowing snow everywhere like he's in a Chap Stick commercial.

Sometimes we would ride up on different lifts, and when that happened, it was an opportunity to engage in small talk with out of towner skiers for the slow ride up.

I should mention that Bob is the cheapest man on the planet and likes more than anything to purchase a piece of clothing and amortize the wear over a period of years so that it's down to twenty cents a year. Last year his brother handed down an eighties ski ensemble to him. He wore it to the slopes, complete with his 1986 Rossignals that are so out of date they look like cross country skis.

No matter - people loved it. They chatted with him on the lifts, shared parenting stories, corporate stories, and tips on conquering the black diamond run.

Me? I rode up with an eleven year-old, and a series of middle-aged men who acted smarmily pleased when I told them I stayed home. Older men seem to think this is the "only way to go" and inevitably give me a "good for you" when I tell them this is what I do.

This doesn't make me want to share a hot toddy with them back at the lodge. First, I used to work and plan on going back when Jack is old enough. Second, it confirms my suspicion that all these old farts judge my working mom friends for a series of antiquated reasons that boils down to a bunch of white men wanting to control my uterus or my work status.

At the top of one of the shorter runs I grabbed Bob by his electric blue ski lapels and hissed, "You know if I wanted to work, I would, right? Staying at home is fine for now, but you know it is probably temporary, right?"

Boy, does he love being married to me.

How to Horrify Your Inlaws, Part I

Step One: Search for the missing orange soccer sock early on a Sunday morning. Tear house apart, intermittently hissing that the damned thing couldn't have walked out of the house.

Step Two: After pouring inlaws their second cup of coffee, loudly exclaim that you and your husband need to clean out the cars so that you can look for the sock. Mention that the cars are total shit heaps that haven't been cleaned in over a week. Say nothing as they agree to watch the baby as you "quickly" clean out the cars.

Step Three: Take over an hour excavating the massive amount of crap in the cars. Yell at the older children that you are going to burn their belongings if they don't come and fetch them from the growing pile in the kitchen. Loudly take an inventory of the items you have removed from the cars, to include cheese, musical instruments, underwear, and an eye patch.

Step Four: Scream at husband that he is going to electrocute himself as he begins to vacuum out your car. Remove third row seat and point out standing water in the leg wells from the forty-seven juice boxes your five year old likes to squeeze on the way to soccer. Remember that you still haven't found the fucking soccer sock and berate children for undressing in the car and for eating your good cheese.

Step Five: After more than an hour has passed, see triangle of orange peaking out from violin case in back of husband's car. Grab sock and parade through house in brazen imitation of Britney Spears at VMAs. Chortle to inlaws that they should love your bad self, your sock-finding boo-tay then tell husband to grab the Deep Woods Off for the mosquito larva growing in the big car.

Harvest

A roasting chicken gives off her perfume of rosemary, garlic cloves and thyme from the cozy boudoir of the oven. Jacob sits at the counter whisking the eggs brought over to us by a friend. The yolks are nearly fluorescent; such is the difference between the sad little ovals we buy at the store in their styrofoam packages and those given to us from hens that scratch for bugs all day in a sunny back field. I measure the ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon and allspice. I set them aside in the ramekin while I scoop out the pureed pumpkin into the mixing bowl. Chloe walks by and inhales deeply. Mmmm. Pumpkin bread for dessert.

The door slams, and I notice that our dog has slunk in to hide under the kitchen table on her sleeping pad. The storm has kicked up, and the flashes of lightening are more apparent as the day comes to an end.

We are all hungry. It has been an active day. Jacob had his first soccer game, and we watched with joy as the first child in our family took to the the playing field, gleefully running after the ball full speed, sometimes in the wrong direction, but always with a smile on his face. For twelve years we have been a family that adjusts the ballet tights, or watches as our daughters clap gymnastic chalk from their hands. Sitting on the grassy field with an umbrella and plenty of shouts of "Go Tigers!" just feels right. I'm actually excited about bringing the snacks for next week's game.

I take my time with the food preparation. There is no rush. It's the end of the weekend, and we are all knowingly or unknowingly savoring the last flavors of a day less structured. I slowly roll the basil leaves tight, each slice of the knife releasing fragrant green ribbons to be draped over the tomatoes. My fingers smell of basil for the rest of the night.

We eat late. I watch my kids tuck into their acorn squash with brown sugar and butter, filling their bodies with food that will give them energy for the long Monday ahead. One by one, the kids find their way to bed, and there are no complaints this evening. Each one is showered or bathed, and tucked clean into their blankets with a good book and a soft light to aid the process which doesn't take as long as usual tonight.

After the dishes are done, I sit at the counter with Bob, the candles still lit, the air still fragrant with spicy bread, my wine rewarding my muscles in a way the best massage cannot.

It's a good day.

Screeching into Home Sideways

Whew! We're home! School starts for the older three today, so as I type this, my girls are already bickering over who gets what hair accessories, and I just heard a frantic scream from one daughter informing us all that she needs a training bra now.

We had the greatest time at the lake, even though there was no electricity, running water, and I bathed in good clean Minnesota lake water for a week. I can't wait to write about it. But this morning I need to get my kids off to school and see how well Jacob does in kindergarten (he should be fine).

I'll be back, with stories from the world's craziest family (we logged over 4,000 miles in road trips this summer) and I also can't wait to read what's been going on in the blogosphere.

I loved being unplugged for ten days, but now I'm ready for some carpel tunnel!