Take My Hand

I've been made to feel a little bit of mom-guilt since I wrote my last post. But I refuse to take it back.
Let me explain: I refuse to believe that even the best moms don't have days like that. I refuse to believe that even the best mom's children don't ever behave badly. And I refuse to believe that my readers who have children don't relate or understand.


This is a joke.

So with that, I will say this... Even on their worst days Lucy and Jackson are the best things that have ever happened to me. That's a given.

Oh yeah... and Chris. <3 (he can get pretty unruly if he hasn't eaten at least every hour, on the hour.)

Besides, I discovered the blog stats (Eureka!) and apparently complaining about your kids drives a lot of traffic to your blog. I'm talking 35% more. (Which is like... 23 a day instead of... whatever 35% less would be. We're not breaking records here.)

Onward...

Our save-the-date video is finished! Disclaimer: Unless you receive this video in an email from Chris or me this isn't an open invitation. I wish we could invite everyone and their third cousin, but the church only seats 100 people.

I've been doing some learn-as-you-go video production for Lincoln Hospital so I know a teensy bit about the process. It's hard to make people feel natural in front of a camera especially with topics like breast cancer, robotic physicians and colonoscopies. You heard me.
Rob and Megan from Rogue Heart Media did a fantastic job. And they are the coolest people. Luckily, we didn't have to go over any EMS safety protocols so the subject was a little more natural to talk about, but it still took a lot of talent to take the raw footage and create something so great.
Here it is! Love.

When Little Fits Hit the Shan.

Tonight was pretty normal. We came home from work, made dinner (grilled steak and potato salad. I don't normally post recipes because I don't enjoy giving away tips because I need all the help I can get in being a better cook than, well, anyone. But I've made an exception because this is super easy and super, duper good. ), ate dinner outside for the first time this summer, watched the kids play, read stories, put the kids to bed and are settling down with our beverages of choice. Sounds pretty good, right? 

Insert: nails on chalkboard whining, back-talking, hands-on-everything-they've-been-told-not-to-put-their-hands-on-a-million-times, arguing, poking the dog's eyes out, refusing to eat their dinners and last, but most certainly not least, "ears? what ears? oh... those things used for LISTENING?" And now, as I write this, Chris is upstairs putting the kids to bed for the THIRD time. 

Isn't there a reality show for this? Nanny 911? Dr. Nanny? Boot Camp for 2 and 3-year-olds? 

A Moment: Chris and I are using an old type writer as the guest book at our wedding reception. Chris brought the typewriter home tonight. As the kids were wreaking havoc in the next room we were pounding out letters to God, crying out for mercy on an old Royal from the 1940's. 

"Dear God, 

Please have mercy on us. We know you're sitting up there laughing. Parenting is your form of entertainment isn't it? Well, it's not funny. Now we know why you were so willing to sacrifice your only Son. 

Please send help quickly. 

Chris and Carey"

It was an outlet of frustration if nothing else. And we're probably going to H-E-Double Hockey Sticks for it. 

You can only put a kid in time-out so many times before it becomes completely ineffective. At one point Chris started singing his communications with the kids like show-tunes. It at least made them be still for longer than 3 seconds, but pretty soon Jackson said, "Why Daddy Chris singing? He's silly." He did look a little insane. 

You know you've demanded your child's attention in the wrong way when she says "No, you need to listen to me." as her response. 

I know that every parent has these days and that it's normal to feel frustrated and it doesn't mean we have bad kids... because on any other day we don't, but I just have one question: Whose sins am I paying for here? Because I don't remember acting like this as a child. EVER. I'm sure my mother would attest to this. 

Here's that rockin' recipe that you'll slave over and your preschoolers will look at you in disgust and refuse to eat: 

Grilled Steak & Potato Salad:

2 Garlic Cloves, pressed

2 teaspoons dried thyme leaves

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon coarsely ground pepper

1 1/4 pounds boneless beef top sirloin steak

3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

2 tablespoons olive oil, divided

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

1 1/2 pounds unpeeled potatoes, cut into slices (we also used a one sweet potato)

1 medium sweet yellow onion, cut into slices

2 medium tomatoes, wedged

6 cups torn romaine lettuce

1. Start up the grill! 

2. Combine garlic, thyme, salt and pepper. Mix well to form a paste. 

3. Spread all but 1 teaspoon of the garlic mixture over both sides of the steak.

4. Add vinegar, half the oil and mustard to the remaining garlic mixture. Whisk until blended. 

5. Brush potatoes and onions with the other half of the oil. 

6. Grill up the steak, potatoes and onions to your liking or until done. 

7. Cut steak into strips and potatoes and onions in half. 

8. Mix lettuce, steak, potatoes, onions, tomatoes and dressing together in a large bowl. 

We (including the kids because they are both carboholics) ate this with toasted Cheesy Pleasy bread from Sawyer's. It's best if it's toasted on the grill! 

I don't have a picture of the salad because I was too preoccupied to remember to take one. 

Jello Puddin' Pops.

For Easter we went to Jackson, WY.

We went snow-shoeing, ate at the Q, had drinks at the Cadillac, visited EGC... all the normal things. I tried to return some Chacos I had purchased the year prior at the Bootlegger, but they wouldn't let me so... I'll sell you a pair of size 10 women's Chaco sandals that have been worn three times by yours truly for a bargain basement price. Let's talk.

Going to Jackson is always a little bittersweet for me. I love that place. I'm not a good skier, I don't climb. I like to hike and kayak and snowshoe, but nothing too hardcore. Compared to most people my age in Jackson I'm more Gaper and less Local. I mean, they get crazy down there! But there's something spiritual about it. Something that makes me sit back and contemplate life's meaning in a non-cliche sort of way. Unless you've been there, you don't know. There's an actual aura that you feel coming from the mountains as you cross into Wyoming from Idaho over the pass. (Maybe it's nature's lovely song... maybe it's the drugs, I don't know.) The Grand looms over the valley like a god. It takes lives and yet many wouldn't be complete without it. To your right there are people risking sanity just for the rush of skiing down the pass and to your left you almost just hit a moos with your car.

I lived in Jackson a few years ago. A lot of life-changing things happened there and each year I make the trek back to pay homage to a new life born from such a beautiful place.

The first year I was away I brought back a tiny baby that bore its name. The second year I brought a couple close friends and a romantic hopeful. The third year I visited those close friends and brought my future husband. Each year my life is different. It's like introducing two people you know will hit it off. My ever-changing life and Jackson, WY.

I realize how strange it sounds to be so emotionally attached to a place. It's almost childish. And it's hard to explain. I go back each year and I come away renewed.

This year, I was doubly renewed. This year, I was not only in Jackson, but I also had three of my closest friends there with me. The four of us hadn't been in the same room together for over 2 years.

Enter: random sarcasm, excessive farting, illogical cause promotion, volleyball highlights video and froyo. Chris was a trooper. He even participated with his Bill Cosby impersonation.



Loves.



When you've fallen into a vortex and can't get out.

Confession: Chris and I purchased our wedding bands a couple weeks ago. Since we've picked them up from the jeweler in Spokane we've been known to wear them around the house on occassion. It's only for a couple minutes and then they go right back into the drawer next to the pearls that Chris's mom gave me (they were her mom's pearls).
No wonder the jeweler asked us if we'd like to keep them in the safe at the store until the big day...

Wedding plans are coming along! We're doing a Save the Date video instead of sending out cards so watch your email inbox for one! This saves lots of green in all sense of the word and gives me an opportunity to flex my newfound videographer muscles. And it's more personal. Waaaay more personal.

I've decided that wedding planning is a funny sort of vortex that one easily falls into. There's always going to be something better out there. The next wedding blog will always have something cuter or more creative. Next season will come out with the perfect shade of coral that wasn't available the season you got married. (I've learned that "vintage-y, muted" coral does not exist. One vendor looked at me blankly and said, "You mean peach?" No. I do not mean peach. I mean "vintage-y, muted coral.)

Here's the thing: you're just as married at the end of the day.

I'm scavenging for wire bird cages and vintage picture frames right now. Michael's and Jo-Ann's have a whole new meaning to me. As do the words, "DIY" and "what's your wedding budget?" My wedding budget is "spend as little as possible" so we can go on a killer Honeymoon.
To Greece.
With that being my option I start thinking things like, "why can't everyone just bring their own flatware to eat with? BYOFW. While we're at it... who needs to even eat?" But then that's the vortex talking.

We'll be just as married at the end of the day.

I will, however, go Bridezilla on your ass if you refer to my "coral" as "peach".

Happy Birthday!... to us!

This morning I woke up to the usual, "Mommmeeeeeeee! Help me!" I rolled out of bed and stumbled down the hall in my underwear to find the all-too-familiar scene of Jackson at the doorway of his bedroom, imprisoned by the baby gate. "Where's Grammi?" he said as I wearily picked him up and headed downstairs, coffee on my brain. It seemed too complicated to explain that, yes, Grammi was here when he went to bed last night, but she had since left to catch a flight to Arizona for a work conference and wouldn't be back for another week.
So I just said, "Grammi's on the airplane!" as excitedly as my bed head could muster. Jackson looked at me blankly, but seemed satisfied with her whereabouts- especially if it included an airplane.
A normal start to our morning, but then it dawned on me: It's my birthday! At (now) 27 my birthday has become something that reminds me I'm much closer to 30, but I still get a childish joy out of thinking that the day is all mine. 
Well, no. That's not completely true. I joyously and ironically share my birthday with Brent, my older brother. Up until last year this fact was not a reality, but I'm so glad it is now. My mom worries that our shared birthday makes us feel gypped, but I assure you it does not. It's just one of those things that make you say, "what are the chances?" and then go on to feel an unspoken bond- a connection that even the awkward stages of getting to know each other can't infiltrate. Brent and I both suffer from "what's there to say without getting too personal?", a disease passed down by our maternal family which causes initial relationships to plod slowly forward, struggling against the heavy load of assumption, until one day the relationship suddenly feels like an old shoe that you'd never part with due to its comfort.

So throughout the day today- through the facebook greetings and the cheesy "Happy Birthday" song voicemails- I'm thinking of Brent. And he's probably thought of me. And we've both thought, "what are the chances?" but not felt an ounce of resentment toward our shared day. And we're wondering if we should maybe call each other, but maybe that's too personal.  

And by Kramer, I mean Carey.

Happy Birthday!... to us! 

Beef Burgundy is not the way to my heart, but being domestic might be.

This might sound old-fashioned.

I made Beef Burgundy last week and wore an apron while doing so. It's green and white and I bought it at the Rejuvenations store in Reardan, WA. It was an impulse buy. I don't know if it was the apron that led me to the beef burdundy or if the beef burgundy led me to the apron... I love the apron. I wasn't so much a fan of the beef burgundy.
Lately I've been, well, domestic. I've had strange urges to sew things and cook things from scratch. I've even been slightly crafty as of recent.

Here's my theory: I now have people to do these things for. Two little ones and a big one, to be precise. I love seeing them enjoy the food I've made or the home I've created.

Now don't get me wrong, I jump on the bra burning bandwagon as fast as the next 20-something, liberal arts-educated, inner-hippie child.

(There are so many things wrong with that sentence. A) Women's Rights is not a bandwagon on which to jump on or off and B) should not be considered a result of age, education or culture, but A) I couldn't resist the alliteration and B) often times my dad mumbles "I should have never sent you to that liberal, hippie school."  after a heated discussion about, well, anything. And then I laugh. Because there's irony in raising a child to think for herself only to get ruffled feathers when she actually thinks for herself. Also... I went to Whitworth. You get the idea here. ) 

So I'm standing in the kitchen, barefoot, pregnant, apron-clad, with a child hanging off my leg. Not necessarily the image of a Lucy Stone or a Susan B. Anthony (although I'm sure they had those moments), but I'm happy. A light goes off and I suddenly understand that I'm not doing those things because I'm oppressed. Or because it's expected. Or because that's my role. I'm doing those things because they make me happy. And they make my family happy. And seeing my family happy makes me happy. It was like a symbolic bra burning.

Wedding update: (We've known this for awhile and have even been telling people. It's just been a secret to the blog, I guess.) We've set the date for September 10th. 9.10.11. Huzzah.

It's all in the Details.

   Poor Chris... he lost his girlfriend. Has anybody seen her? Oh, wait... she's over there, under that pile of wedding magazines (blogs).

   Lately, it seems that all I talk about with the poor guy are wedding plans. It makes me wonder what we'll be talking about the day after the wedding. Probably the wedding...

   I guess it's to be expected. It's only been three weeks since his proposal and as I mentioned in my last blog post, I have a lot stored up in my file of "all things glorious for my wedding day."

   But before I get into the most recent details I need to update you on Jackson.

He will be 2 next month. 2! The words come out of my mouth, but I hardly believe them! He is his own little human- complete with attitude and opinions. He's been sleeping in his "big boy bed" for about a month and each morning I wake up to Jackson standing in the doorway of his bedroom yelling "Mommmeeee!" (I put up the baby jail because I'm afraid he'll fall down the stairs.) This new morning ritual is cherished, even on mornings when it occurs at 6am and I want to roll over and pull the covers over my head.

   Sometimes, complete sentences come out of Jackson's mouth. The other day he told me I needed to go take a bath. I'll admit, sometimes I stink, but that was just harsh.

It's the cutest when we're driving down the driveway (it's a long one...) and Jackson excitedly says, "we're home!!" over and over. Or when he gives me "kisses with his lips" and comes at me unabashedly with his tongue. Or when he squeals in delight over the cat. Every day. Apparently, the concept of Kiki never gets old. Or when he points to no particular part of my body and says "what's that?" I don't know man... I don't know what happened.

His outlook on life is so raw. So untainted. I love it and feel refreshed by it on a daily basis.

   Something else that is almost as refreshing to me are the colors we have chosen for the wedding (and we're back...).

Olive, Corral and Cream. What d'ya think?

 

   My mom and I were at the Bridal Festival in Spokane last weekend and I had these colors in mind, but hadn't decided on the exact shade. (This is how crazy I am being.) I saw the most perfect bouquet from aNeMonE that incorporated these colors and at that moment knew they were right for our wedding. I briefly worked with one of the owners of aNeMonE at the Davenport Hotel when he was just starting this amazingly brilliant business and will most likely be purchasing my bouquet from there (not the one I saw though... too much baht required). I love the idea of being able to keep my bouquet for years and years because it will be made out of handmade paper flowers.

   Chris agrees on the colors and here we are. The bridesmaids will each be wearing a different colored dress and the groomsmen will be wearing dark brown suits.  

   I'm so excited about this next detail of our wedding. So excited.

Flat4 Photography will be our photographer for the big day. Whitney Tampien from Flat4 has been a friend of mine since our days at Whitworth where we played volleyball together. She's so creative and has such amazing vision. Many of you probably saw the pictures she took last August. Enough said. She's wonderful.

   The next detail I'm going to divulge isn't quite set in stone, but I'm confident enough to spill the beans. Old Bear Mountain (formerly known as A Sailor A Captive) will most likely be providing the music for the reception.

Yes please, and thank you.

They are a young group from Mead, WA who came out to the farmers market last summer and I fell in love with their music and style. I've since booked them for pretty much every event I'm involved in planning. They are currently recording a CD which everyone should own when it comes out. You can sample their stuff by following the link. And by the way, if Jackson grew up to be as responsible and respectful as Wade (their lead), I wouldn't be mad.

   This last detail is near and dear to my heart. Our cake will be made by Sawyer's Artisan Bakery. Let me tell you about these people:

Chris and I have absolutely fallen in love with this family. Matt and Jen have become dear friends since last spring. Their fam includes four boys (that's right... four boys) and anyone else who is willing to sit at their dinner table and eat Jen's gloriously delicious food. They are also opening a bakery in Davenport on January 24th. What makes them amazing, though, is that even through obstacles they are so giving.  How many of us can say that? I know that when I'm going through something difficult... or exciting... or life-changing in any way whatsoever, it's all about me (case in point: this blog). They are opening a business in less than two weeks and yet they continue to volunteer and assist our community in whatever way possible. Jen is constantly reminding me to be positive and caring of the people around me- no matter who they are. And she's hilarious. Man, I love this family! 

   It feels so great to get all the details out in story form. I look over the list of "vendors" that we've decided on so far and I realize they are all friends- they're all people we know and love. I can't wait to be fully surrounded by friends and family on our wedding day and to feel that love through every detail.