imperfectly perfect.

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Posted on 21st July 2010 by bloodfamily in breast feeding | daily nuances | family | harper | kids | life | loosing it

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it’s truly unbelievable how a house with two small children, one mom trying to work from home, keep the number of toys on the floor at or below 1,000, the dishwasher loaded, the kitchen counters crumb-free – ok, i think you get it – can go from good, to manageable, to totally and utterly out of control.

take  monday morning for example. i am on the phone with someone from our corporate office going through a cash flow statement. no biggie. phone to cheek, toddler hanging off one leg, baby dangerously close to scaling the staircase – this is routine, and doable.

but then a few moments later came the dreaded words, “uh oh, mommy” followed by a waddling, almost (operative word here) potty trained 2 year old.

and i wondered as i knelt down to pick my son’s poop off of our hallway rug and wood floor what this lady on the receiving end might do if she had a visual to go along with the audio. it takes a seasoned professional to simultaneous clean human feces, keep a 10 month old out of the infected area, hush a too loud toddler from trying to explain why his poop is now on my floor instead of in his potty (while trying to poke and inspect it – trust me, it’s real) and carry on a work-related conversation.

i so deserve a raise. (vic, i know you’re reading this.)

and i know that blogs are way more fun to read when there are pictures involved – because really, who can stay stimulated long enough to get through these things without a picture to break things up. but trust me. you’re much better off with only the words on this one.

chances are i hadn’t showered. wait, let’s be honest, i definitely had not showered. and was absolutely sporting the outfit i had gone for a run in just an hour earlier complete with sweat stains, blood and dirt (from the baseball field pit stop – for said toddler to run bases – gone awry).

it’s all about deception, really. trying to paint a picture of idealism in a world of total chaos. but really, when it comes down to it my world is ideally chaotic. or chaotically ideal. however you want to slice it.

and later that night as i snuck away to put my little girl to sleep it hit me again – how lucky i am.

and because this is just too sweet to handle, and because this blog is my kids “baby book” and i want to remember these things…

we rock in a chair while she nurses. i stroke the little arm closest to me as her fingers trace the outlines of my face; my cheek, my lips, my nose. i bend down and kiss her sweet head, let her intoxicating aroma fill my nose, my lungs, my soul.

when she’s had her fill, i stand and she lays her head on my chest; nestled in snugly under my chin. one arm under her bottom holds her up and the other wraps around her back – rubbing and holding. and her tiny toes sweep across my legs – when did she get this big?

i cock my head to the side and catch a glimpse of her face – the rhythmic motion of her pointer finger rubbing the top of her nose as she sucks her thumb, eye lids heavy and closing.

and the past few days i started whispering to her. saying out loud the thoughts i have always had but was too afraid to utter in the perfect stillness of her room.

i tell her how much she is loved. what light and wonder and amazement she brings to my world. i promise to teach her the really important stuff: to be kind, and wise and confident in the beautiful skin that is her own.

and i hold her as long as i can, which is inevitably too long. until she squirms and wiggles and leans towards her crib.

i kiss her one last time and whisper in her ear. she nestles into her cozy bed, belly down, butt pointing towards the heavens.

quietly i tip toe out and into the hall already anxiously awaiting our sweet reunion in the morning.

and so goes the cycle – from hair pulling, poop cleaning, sweat stained days to nights like these. and back again.

imperfectly perfect.

the hill

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Posted on 19th July 2010 by bloodfamily in Uncategorized | daily nuances | family | kids | life | milestones | new hampshire | tradition

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lately i’ve been thinking a lot about tradition. about family and gatherings and the desire to re-establish some of what once was.

i grew up in a small immediate family but in a very large extended family. my mom and her 5 siblings lived in and around the same area (except for one long island branch, who we still saw often) and there were lots of cousins, aunts and uncles. and our own family lives pulled us in dozens of different directions – that is until we met up at the hill.

this is the hill.

(courtesy of realtor.com – yes, it’s for sale. if only i had $344,900. oh, and lived in new hampshire)

it’s the home my grandparent’s bought and moved their family of 5 into in the early 1960’s. leaving new jersey behind, in a station wagon packed with 5 kids, 2 adults and two cats (one of which-the pregnant one- escaped somewhere around hartford) left new jersey and headed north to new hampshire to start a business; a new life.

and from 1981 to 1995 it was also my life.

my rendering of this special place is my own. it may differ from my cousins, my aunts and uncles, my mom. but, for me, the hill was the epitome of family. it was the gathering place for birthdays, holidays and pool-side bbq’s. it was the place my cousin alex and i played forts and spied through the grates at our family below. shot rubber bands from home-made rubber band guns – hey, it was the ’80’s -  scaled the laundry shoot and hid in the lazy susan. i have a repetitive dream with images from the wallpaper in the downstairs bathroom. and the blue shag carpet in the closet that my cousin locked me in one day (until i screamed bloody murder and was set free by some cousinly paserby).

it’s the home of tropicana hannah – the song my grandfather wrote and performed with his trumpet for an eager and proud family. with the ultimate easter egg hiding stone walls and fire work settting off back deck.

 

it was in this room that we spent each christmas – a group of 30+ scattered among couches and chairs and the floor opening, one by one and in order of age, our presents.  i can remember the smell and the sounds of our laughter as if it were last week.

this fireplace, the place my mom and her siblings hid their old shoes – in hopes of tricking my grandmother into buying them new ones. i found several pair one day in the side ovens,  dusty, covered in soot and smelling of fire. my grandmother was shocked and baffled. those tricky little children.

and over the years much has changed. the hill is no longer ours. my grandmother, and the backbone of our family, is no longer with us. my cousins and i grew up and moved away. many of us busy with our own little ones and the daily life that seems to speed along faster and faster with each passing month.

we are fortunate to see each other on holidays and for the occasional dinner or birthday party but often, for me, these times seem too rushed and too surface and too…not like they used to.

and really i can’t help but wonder if my memories don’t depict reality – that maybe they are just the remnants of a young care-free girl, barefoot and giggling, running with knotted hair and black-bottomed feet. and i know that even if i could re-create those days now – the house, the people, it would be different. that era has ended.

i don’t want to be debbie downer;  even without the hill i am fortunate to share my life with the people i do. i have been blessed with a family of wonderful, kind, good people. this, i’m sure, is why i chose them. and really, i think, i miss them. i miss knowing them on the level i used to. i miss sharing daily nuances, birthday’s, bbq days, whatever days; you know, the kind where you kick back, open up and are real.  

and now that i have children of my own i am  desperate for their creation of similar memories. i want them hanging by their undies from the door frame in the ultimate wedgie from uncle dan. i want them picking blackberries in the bushes around the pool at the edge of the woods. i want them running through a house full of people, out a metal screen door and onto a porch worn from years of bare feet and bottoms;  the simple grandeur that was life on the hill.

i know, and have known for a while now that this won’t change without effort. and without the desire and passion of the next generations. i know my desire runs deep and burns fiercely. i am too proud of where i come from to let it slip away.

so, this is my goal -along with humpteen others -  this year.

my hope is that soon i’ll be sitting amongst the chaos of children, the buzz of voices eager to share, listen and laugh. and it will hit me, out of the blue, that i am there. in the new era of family traditions, overloaded with the faces i love, the embraces i have felt for a lifetime.

when i get there, i’ll let you know. it’s going to be fabulous.

in the meantime, if you’re reading this and have an extra $300 grand laying around, there’s this house atop a big hill i’d love to buy.

shower beer and cows

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Posted on 16th July 2010 by bloodfamily in Uncategorized | connecticut | daily nuances | life | uconn

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tonight i re-lived a top ten favorite college experience. it did not include some of the more likely and totally inappropriate things your mind may have fled to. shame on you. naughty little readers.  

it involved a long, warm shower and an ice cold beer. if you haven’t tried this combo before you have greatly missed out. something about the warm, steamy air and the ice cold goodness is relaxing, refreshing and revitalizing all at once.  

my great friend christina turned me on to this, i think. we had a shower in our dorm that had a seat in it. again, shame on you and your running-free minds. but yes, you’re right. what designer puts a seat in a college dorm bathroom. moving along…  

a few weeks ago i tried it for the first time since college. and almost as quickly as the water came out the beer went down - hip checked it off the side ledgy thingy. unbelievably it didn’t shatter but it did turn completely to foam and foiled any chance of wonderfulness. i vaguely remember justin asking what the heck was going on (and maybe if i was still alive) and sheepishly muttering something about my beer…slippery…every thing’s ok.  

so tonight with a quiet, husband-less house, i tried it again. miraculous.  

might i add that i’m looking for a backer to help fund a bathtub surround with built-in cup holders…  

the past few weeks have been hot, humid, curly, frizzy and full of cows. jackson is totally obsessed with farms and the cows that live on them and the poop that comes out of them.  

luckily for us, farms are abundant here. as are farm related books. and make believe barns, like under dining room tables and in toddler beds. and even luckier for me the best farm of all has a world famous (ok, maybe storrs famous) creamery called the dairy bar.  

i found this when googling the dairy bar to insert the hyperlink. it was kinda educational, made me giggle and paints the picture. so here you go:  

  

and this is how we spent last sunday and a couple others the last few weeks. and boy does it feel good to live life together, exploring the place we live. something i’ve been missing and really needing.  

  

kellogg farm, storrs, ct

  

    

  

  

   

  

i’m not really sure how we got from drinking beer in a shower to a day at the farm, but there you have it.

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