being Mom

MS Living vs LM Living

May 26, 2012 Dear Martha,

I can’t help but wonder if I shouldn’t subscribe to Martha Stewart Living again.  It’s been a challenging few weeks.  Could your advice have helped? In getting ideas for the addition on our house, I did pick up your issue titled something like “Everything Organized.”  How often do you dust all those open shelves or do you have a machine that just blows the dust off?  Do paper airplanes ever land in the plates?  Do kids ever use cups as target practice with rockets or balls?  Do you ever go to serve your soup and find a dead fly in a bowl?

What a great suggestion to tear out recipes and articles from magazines and place them in plastic pocket protectors in a 3-ring binder, rather than keep the whole magazine.  However, I couldn’t find my craft exacto knife to gently cut the pages out nor did I have time to run to Staples.  In the end, I shoved all the magazines into a box.

The Laundry Maven lost focus over the last few weeks with packing and getting ready for all the month’s adventures.  Unsure of your take on drying clothes, whether you prefer the dryer or clothesline drying.  I thought your readers might benefit from this tip:

If you wash a t-ball shirt Monday, anticipating the 6 p.m. game on Wednesday, but forget to dry that particular load until 5:33 p.m. Wednesday… well, it can be done, assuming you are driving to the game.  Put the shirt in the dryer on high for 10 minutes.  At minute 9, get the kids in the van – make sure the t-ball player is dressed in a similar colored shirt to the team shirt (just in case).  Get the shirt out of the dryer, windows down in the car, hold the shirt by the hem, and keep it inflated as you drive.  You may need to give it a shake occasionally to keep it full of air.  With an 8-minute drive, it will be dry enough to wear without the player feeling damp.

Pretty sure I saw your twin, or at least an avid MS Living reader, on the airport bus at 6:30 a.m. this morning.  I carried my youngest onto the bus in bare feet and mismatched pajamas.  While I wrestled his toes into yesterday’s socks and his shoes, the Iron Maiden’s littlest boy sat on her lap perfectly starched and bathed.  His roosters were evenly dispersed over his head, unlike my little guy’s random roosters.  Some day when he takes showers in the morning instead of baths at night, he too will have even roosters.

You know, I really don’t have time to read or live up to MS Living, but I think something like LM Living might give people more comfort in their realities… of living.

Sincerely,

Linda Malcolm

Fruit in the Bathroom

(From May 30th...) Remember, Harrison and Olivia?

After a bad bout of constipation, Mom and Olivia had a discussion about the importance of fiber and how it helps food moving through the tummy. “Like strawberries, Mom?” Yes, she was getting it. “This won’t happen again if I eat lots of strawberries?” Well, it won’t happen as often.

A month later, Mom hears a scream. “Strawberries! I want strawberries!” Mom tears down the stairs to find Olivia wide-eyed on the toilet. “I need strawberries NOW!!”

Double dilemma: It’s a little late for the strawberries, and there are no strawberries in the house. Explaining the benefits of fiber taking hours to work through a tummy seemed useless. “We don’t have strawberries, but pears do the same thing!” Mom called truthfully from the kitchen as she peeled and chopped pears.

Mom sat on the edge of the tub and forked pieces into the little bird’s mouth then took a deep breath, “OK… that’s all there is.”

Mom and Olivia looked at each other, both wide-eyed, wondering what would happen next.

“Ahhhhhhh… thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

.......

Happy Hump Day!

Small things

Today, I can only manage small pieces of thoughts on paper. Fire in the hole.  The orange glow of my hair dryer frying in England and the orange glow of the afterburners on jets at the air show six hours later: identical.  By smell, the jets were powerful and the hair dryer… well, just that yucky "shouldn’t-have-done-that" smell.

Before having kids, I didn’t know that you could go to bed six times in one night.

Dreaming the impossible.  Liam, “Mom, could we just move our whole house next door to Grandma’s so I can cuddle with her whenever I want?”

Air shows and walking:  a juxtaposition.  This weekend’s sport was very sedentary compared to last weekend’s.  Air show observation: Many male spectators in the same age bracket… about the same age as Tom Cruise was when he filmed “Top Gun.”

Getting paid as a mom.  I paid to ride the bird to England and to hear a flight attendant say, “Your boys are so polite and well-mannered.  You wouldn’t believe what we have to put up with sometimes.”  My voice: “Thank you!”  My silent voice: “Oh my gosh, thank you, thank you, thank you.”  Followed by my thought: “You mean like when 2-year-old Will had pneumonia and screamed all the way home from England – in the row right behind 1st class?”  We have all had our moments, but as related to flying – sometimes thankfully – we will never see those people again.

The English population doubles when the sun comes out and it’s 80 degrees.  Petrol stations run out of water, “Well, the sun is shining you see!”  Hoards of delicately colored English dash outside without sunscreen, only to see who looks more like a lobster Monday morning at work.  Screaming red is a painful color.

Liam, observing Grandma’s iron goose door holder that had fallen over.  “It’s dead right, Mom?  It’s RIP.  It’s with God.  Right, Mom?”

“I can’t do this!!!” Will, facing the line of at least a couple hundred people ahead of us at immigration.  Thank you, Steph, for the year of ancient civilizations.  A game of “What Greed god starts with the letter “X”?” got us through, dare I say, happily?  Then those Greek gods smiled down upon us as a woman opened the cordoned path and said, “You have small children.  Go to the front of the line.”

The Avon Lady is Still Walkin'!

Coming into the home stretch, I’m walking 3 -5 times a week, 4 – 6 miles.  A week ago Sunday I did 8 miles.  This week I did 4 miles of hills in Breakheart in the drizzling rain.  I figured a little rain training would be good… just in case. Thanks much to Marcia at Silver Clay for last Friday’s fundraiser!  We had a great crowd and Marcia donated $120 to my walk.  I have reached the $1,800 needed to walk, and I am nearly at my personal goal of $2,400.  Today I’m at $2,315.  (And... just as I am about to push the "publish" button on this post, I see that I am at $2,401!!! Thanks for the push over the top, Wendy!)

My walking partner, Amy Buckley, is training hard.  She will be walking 39 miles over the two days and is inspiring me as she walks 14 miles or more a few times a week.  Amy’s mom survived breast cancer several years ago.  Our husbands and kids are making plans for which “Cheering Stations” to go to during the walk.  Recently, Amy’s 8-year-old little girl told her, “Mommy, I’m so proud of you.  You are walking to help women you don’t even know.”

Last week, I cleaned out the breast cancer corner tucked away in our bedroom.  I had been putting it off for over two years.  I threw out all the literature on getting through chemo, side effects of treatment, etc.  Held onto the wig receipt and the outline of the study I’m participating in.  Plus, laughed and cried over all the cards and gifts many of you sent.

A couple pictures hit home: ones of my brother in Iowa with his little girl on the 4-wheeler and of my nephew, who also lives in Iowa.  My niece was one when I was diagnosed; I didn’t see her toddling around at two.  She jumped from baby to little girl in the year I went through treatment.  In the other picture, my nephew was bald – he shaved his head when I was going through chemo.

Finally, there was the card that then 6-year-old Will had given me.  It was a musical card and he had overlaid it with his own drawings.  On the inside, he had written, “Good job at chemo, Mom.”

Cool kids.

The Beginning of Forever

While my short term memory bumbles along, thankfully, some moments in our lives are so strong and edible that they are branded into my mental memory album forever. Eight years ago tomorrow, April 21st, Bill and I awoke early, packed our bags, and went downstairs.  The beginning of a new forever was minutes away.

The air was cool.  The bouquet of flowers was enormous.  Another couple we had met earlier in the week had suggested we give flowers to Mrs. Lee, Will’s foster mother, so she would leave the agency with something beautiful.  The previous afternoon, we watched the florist as she built a spectacular hand bouquet.

The other couple was from Maryland, and their beginning was the next day.  They joined us on our morning and chatted after we signed a few papers and collected a sealed envelope to handover to immigration officials when we landed at O'Hare.  We anxiously watched the door.  Soon, six-month-old Will arrived, riding on Mrs. Lee’s back.  We were greeted by the same dimpled little smile we first saw a week earlier.  Mrs. Lee unbundled Will and he sat on her lap.

Young Dr. Kim, the head of Eastern Social Welfare Society in Seoul, gave us encouraging, thankful words.  Then, with his hand on Will, he said a prayer in Korean.  We stood up.  Awkwardly, bowed and shook hands, not knowing which was appropriate.  Mrs. Lee and I looked at each other.  I thanked her and then hugged her.  We spoke different languages.  A hug was the best way I could convey all that I felt for this woman who was Will’s “omma” from when he was just days old.

We all walked to the van waiting outside.  I passed the flower bouquet to the woman accompanying Mrs. Lee.  Bill and I got into the van, wondering if this was really happening.  So gently.  So quickly.

Mrs. Lee held Will until we settled. Then…

Bill and I looked at each other as the van pulled away from the agency, out of Seoul, and toward Inch eon airport.

No tears.  No music.  No fanfare.  No car seats.  No seat belts. No instruction manual.  No English-speaking driver.

Will sat quietly, calmly in Bill’s long arms.

I looked at them both, a smile replacing the shock.  “This is it?  …This is it!”

The beginning of forever.

Meet Harrison and Olivia

Harrison and Olivia are preschoolers moving too quickly through childhood. They keep their parents hopping with their provacative stories, innocent conversations, and random actions. Harrison and Olivia are an amalgamation of all the little characters I have met or heard about while being Mom. You may see their stories occasionally running through this site.

Thanks to the many moms who have shared their adventures along the way, providing sanity and comfort in knowing our experiences aren’t solitary. You may see one of your cherubs in Harrison or Olivia.

Here’s a classic conversation between Mom and preschool boy Harrison, who is taking a shower.

Harrison, ripping open the shower curtain: “Whoa, Mom, what are THESE?!?!”

Mom: “Testicles.”

Harrison: “Where did they come from?”

Mom: “You’ve always had them.”

Harrison: “Will my brains come out here?”

Pause.

Pause.

Pause.

Mom: “I hope not.”

Happy Hump Day…

 

Spring 2011 Boy Quotes

Up until last spring, I did a pretty good job of occasionally recording moments and quotes from the boys.  I haven't been as attentive to that in the last year. Probably because we've added gymnastics, scouts, trumpet, and piano to the weekly rotation.  I spend more time driving and listening to the gems than I do writing them down.  This week I found some old ones from last spring.

 

... journal entry from May 2011...

 

Will is a dedicated Diary of a Wimpy Kid reader and now a writer and a cartoonist.  Shopping for a journal, he first picked out a leather-looking journal.  Then he saw another red, material-covered hardback and changed his mind.  “Mom, this one is a little cheaper and it looks more like a New York Times best-seller.”

 

“No editing of this one, Mom.  I’m writing it perfectly, ready to be published.”  What’s the title?  “Diary of a Non-Wimpy Kid.”

 

“Mom, you are such a good writer.”  “Thank you!” I replied, wondering what he had read of mine.  “You never make mistakes.”  “I make mistakes all the time!”  “But even though you have cross-outs, I love your cursive writing.”

 

Liam, killer one-liners:

 

With his arm overhead, looking at his pit:  “Mom, is this my army pit?”

 

“Where are my hippos?”  Those would be hips.

 

A recent I-love-you-more game:  Me: “I love you all the way to Princess Peach’s castle.”  “Mom, I love you all the way to Mars and back with the sunshine on your face.”

 

In the bathroom getting ready for bed: “Oh, I peed in the eye!”  Me: “WHAT?  You peed in your eye???”  “No, the toilet’s eye.”  Three nights running, I still come running when he hits the target and makes the announcement.

 

... end of entry...

Little Black Dresses

Giving up on my little black dresses from the 90’s, I was bagging them up for the Vietnam Vets. Will came in to see what I was up to.

Will: “Are those dresses from college?”

Me: “A little after college… they are too small now.”

Will: “Wow, you are getting so strong, Mom. Big and strong – that’s why you can still lift me!”

Thankfully, between a size 10 and now, I became a mom.

Happy Hump Day…