Jessica's Blog

I came up as Dutch... and no.. I didn't mention anything about wanting to smoke weed or ride a bike!

Your Inner European is Dutch!

Open minded and tolerant. You're up for just about anything.

I sent the cats to go have some time at my mom's place.  We were needing a break from them, and my mom has offered on many occasions to be their vacation home. 

We sent them along not realizing how immediately attached she would become to cat ownership again.  Wiley and Cookie passed on in 1998, and Mom's been petless since.  She tells me stories about Max and Cleo's latest antics, how cat box science has moved forward amazingly.  Her voice is so happy, I know the companionship is suiting her quite well. 

Of course she sprained her ankle tumbling over one of them in the dark the other night.... something I immediately sighed and growled, "Cleeeoooo!!!" out of habit.  It's amazing how we'll jump away so as not to hurt the darned cat and end up getting injured ourselves.  But yeah.. those MEEEOOOOWWWRRR!!!s of hurt cats are pretty pitiful. 

My mom sent me this tonight, and it's a goody:

As a tiny bit of background... Max fell off the loft ledge of our first home ages ago.  16ft.  He is NOT graceful by any stretch of the imagination.  He's a doof.  a big fat 16 pound fuzzy cute tuxedo doof.  My mother lives on the 3rd floor of her apartment building, and she leaves windows open a lot.....

"Now, today I came home and could not find Max anywhere.  I all but panicked, with my messed up ankle crawling around on the floor looking under every piece of furniture, no Max.  But Cleo was being exceptionally solicitious.  So I asked her what she had done with her brother.  She wandered over to the linen closet – she had somehow managed to LOCK Max into the linen closet!!  It’s one of those doors I am careful to latch, and it’s a tight handle.  I have to really push it tight to get it to latch.  But it’s also the doorknob where I hang Max’s scratching pad...Max was happy to be released, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how Cleo got to door latched!!!"

Yes, I am of course starting to miss those annoying- shedding- under- foot -or- on -me allllll -the- time- so -it -drove- me -nuts fuzz-butts.  But only just a little bit.  Buck on the other hand was miserable home alone today for a bit. ;-)

And yeah... I know the door she's talking about and am baffled as well... I always had to toss my hip agains that door to get it to latch....How did Cleo do it?

I'm getting ready for bed.
I'm flossing my teeth with some minty floss.
I toss the floss.
My eye itches so I go to rub my eye with *you got it* the minty-powdered finger.

In the bleary-tear stained storm that followed, I stepped back and hit the bathroom door with my head, turned around and stubbed my toe on the same door, sending the door flying backwards to hit the toilet with the loudest "BOOM" I could manage.

Once clarity returns, I laugh at myself and realize I need to blog this.

I'm typing with one eye closed, as the stinging is still pretty intense....

Normally this would have sent Hubby running to see if I was ok.  Good thing I am ok, because I don't think he registered the noise at all. 

It's Halo night, people... and Hubby's off killing aliens!

The ranch was truly wonderful.  Leave it to Hubby and I to be happy to be cold for the first time in a long long while... and to enjoy teaching the kids how to manage being cold.  It was below freezing in the mornings and evenings.  It was 10 degrees our last morning.  All wood-burning stoves were on, and all fireplaces ablaze.  The kids discovered the agony of cold sinuses and not to sniff when fist entering the freezing air.  ha ha ha

It was so beautiful up there.  Happiness is closing my eyes and going to my happy place up there.  About twenty minutes out of the ranch, bush wacking with the horses, out in the trees.  Hearing the crunch of the needles, cones and such under hoof, the sounds of the horses, the saddle.  The smell of woods, leather, horse, cold. The sun through the trees flickering that bright white late autumn light.  My shoulders drop when I think of that.  MY breathing gets deeper.

I got out for rides twice while up there.  I got lots of PLAY time with the kids.  One evening while Little Lady was napping, Big Boy, Honey Girl and I had a wonderful time with blow-darts in the saloon. 

We collected boughs for making wreaths after taking the wagons up into the woods.  The kids decorated, did crafts, we played games, worked on puzzles, did some fishing.  I caught this massive two foot trout before Thanksgiving dinner that weighted about 5 pounds, but immediately did all I could to get it off the hook because I didn't mean to catch it!  Big Boy and I were having fun "feeding" the fish cheese cubes from the buffet table and that big thing gobbled on the line.  He was set free without injury.  But man, that thing was massive.

Big Boy was nursed back to health.  He had some good naps on the top bunk and enjoyed getting "room service".  Everyone was so happy to see him once his fevers ceased.  When asked his favorite thing about the day he would say "learning checkers with Dad" or "playing chess with Mom".

Honey Girl was a lot of fun and was thankfully turned loose on the world up there.  She did crafts.  She enjoyed her time with Crystal or Lisa and decorating the lodge.  She enjoyed cocoa. She brushed the Colts brought up from the pasture.  She rode a bit.  When asked her favorite things they were "dancing with mommy" or "walking on the bridges".  She was too cute all bundled up with the pom-pom hat, scarf, and mittens.

Hubby discovered wireless access was darned good from cabin #7.  He got out for a short ride, and loved carrying around Little Lady, playing with the kids.

There is so much to be said for just being able to enjoy your own children.  So often I'm tending to them.  Doing the laundry.  Making the meals.  Doing the carpooling.  Brow beating.  Guiding.  But when we get up there... all else falls away (much of the time) and we can just enjoy each other.  I gotta say... it's priceless and my kids are so great.

So now we're back... and I wish we weren't.  Three days is not enough time up there.  Heck, I had just gotten really sore in time to leave.  As we got back out of the mountains and my cell phone started beeping with messages from my family... I literally broke out in a rash.  It passed.

December is coming.  The mad rush to the slide in to home base on the year.  Rush rush rush.  I need to keep on breathing deep.  It was great to have that amazing break with "just us".

In talking with my friend Vicky last week while on a hike, she recounted how when someone offered her a peanut butter banana sandwich, her heart warmed with thoughts of her grandpa and how they used to sit and eat those together.  We then talked about how memories come at the funniest times, and how they become happy memories instead of sudden pings of grief.

Tonight I was clipping my toenails in preparation for a home pedicure.  I haven't gone to the nail salons much since the nightmare infections that have plagued them around here.

I remembered showing my Grandpa my toes after a pedi appointment with Grandma.

"You know, Grandpa, you might want to consider getting pedicures."

"What?  Now, why would I go and do a thing like that... pedicures... harupmf!"

"Well, see... it's not so easy for you to get to your toes, right?  Your back bugs you, your eyes aren't as good at seeing everything.  Also, with the diabetes, someone else can see better how your feet are doing, and can be sure to massage them gently and take good care of you."

*silence with a "you out yer god-damned-mind, child" stare*

"Ok Grandpa, it's just a thought of how you can take good care of you."

"Geeee-ack..." Rolling his eyes and shaking his head he walked away from me with my pretty toes.

After Grandpa passed away, Grandma let me know that after my visit, he did call her manicurist.  He did make appointments for pedicures.  He went religiously for his bi-weekly pedicure.  He would meet the manicurist early and she would open up shop early and complete his pedicure before any other appointments would come.

I found myself laughing to myself while grabbing my nail polish from the medicine cabinet.

So stubborn, but he listened, and it made sense to him.  I am my grandfather's granddaughter

the kindle.

Right up my alley.  Especially with my fast paced lifestyle, dust mite allergy, hatred of clutter, love of reading, and eco-conscious living.

Santa?  Maybe?

I have suspected for a very very long time that the whole flu shot thing was bullsh*&.  In college I refused to do it, and did it once as a requirement for swim season and got the flu.  SInce then my luck with it has been about 50-50.  But after this last week, I am now going to say... forget that noise.  I've done it the last few years due to pregnancy and guilt by the medical community, but c'mon people...

Last week we all dutifully (yeah, the baby too) got our flu shots.  Achy for a couple days, sparks were off...No fun.  My body still aches a bit and it seems so stupid.

Big Boy got his shot on Wednesday after school.  Thursday after our parent-teacher conference we took him home because he was asleep at his desk with a "flu shot fever" of 101 or so.  It is idiotic that this is thought of as a simple side effect of protecting ourselves from some greater evil.  I mena, how many difference viruses can cause flu?  No one knows!

Big Boy has not returned to school yet, and will not be going to school tomorrow.  He has been in a waffling fever syndrome of going up to 104 in the evenings, and bouncing in and out of fevers through the days around 102-103.  He's had some dry-heaves.  He has no appetite.  No mucus, no cough, no bladder pain, just body ache and lethargy.

It sucks.

I took him in to his pediatrician and after quite the thorough exam she gave the simple explanation I was expecting: the flu shot wore him down, he's in a state of fighting off something else big.  He hasn't gotten that something else, but is in a state of serious battle, so keep him home, keep him comfortable etc etc etc.  My sis the nurse said the same thing when I called her late on Saturday night when he hit 104.

I just came back downstairs after kissing his drenched with sweat little brow.  He's snoring loudly after his fever has broken.  Today I got some beautiful but sad little pictures of him wrapped in a blanket, holding warm cider in a mug on the couch by the window sound asleep.  It's a picture in which he looks competely ageless.  This pic could be taken when he's in college, when he's our age or older.  Sound asleep surrounded by "work", wrapped in a blanket in a warm sunny spot.  He's in a phase of only wanting to wear oxford shirts, so he looks all grown up much of the time.

No more.  I'm tempted to blow off Little Lady's next shot.  For whatever reason, babies are told to do the flu shot twice the first time they ever take it.  A six months old?  Are you freakin daft? 

I caved because Hubby got influenza once.  I remember it very very well and how tragic it was.  Carting him to the hospital, helping him walk, his body in such pain.  The days flat out in bed unable to move.  The shivers, and drugs.  I got it loud and clear the big difference between colds, flus and INFLUENZA... but there really is no guarantee that that stupid shot really helps.

Yeah, I'm ranting a bit.  Mostly because my son has missed two days of school and four days of his five year old life over a damned shot and not even a sickness he picked up on his own.

I've been doing a lot of work.

At the end of summer I really hit a rock bottom of sorts.  I cried when I ordered jeans for the dude ranch over the size that they had to be to encompass my post-baby rear end.  I was having health issues of thyroiditis.  This had happened after Honey Girl was born as well.  My heart would race, I'd sweat.  It sucked.  It made everything feel like a to-do list.  I was also suffering breast infections yet again.  I had suffered these with Big Boy and Honey Girl.  I was sick of them and didn't want them anymore.  I was sick of so much of it.  I decided to change.

I went to acupuncture for the breast infections and the thyroid issues.  I've always found that acupuncture should be my first resort, not my last, but I had to juggle some childcare in order to take the time to lie on a table with needles all over me.  It helped immensely.  The thyroid cleared up with no need for any meds and the breast infections have gone and not returned.  Little Lady has not had any formula since she was about 10 weeks old.  My pediatrician remarked on this at LL's six month appointment... it seems so long ago I was ordered to supplement and how sad I got.  I got over it!  Over using the formula, that is.

I was impatient with the baby weight.  Plain and simple.  Little Lady is my last baby and I was done looking like I had just had a baby.  So I've lost over 30 pounds and went from the post baby size 16 jeans a la "summer of frump" I so wrongly surrendered to,  to the size 8 jeans I'm in now.  I have to admit I love it when someone I don't know says, "You do NOT look like you just had a baby....".  Eat your veggies, get your exercise!

In October I had a blast doing the rock n roll half marathon and the Light the Night Leukemia walk with my friend Marcie.  I've spoiled myself with private pilates and that has been amazing.  A four-pack six months after a third cesarean?!?!  you betcha! ;-)  I hike a lot.  I don't run.  I do weights a bit.  I carry a six month old everywhere and wrestle a 3 and 5 yr old.  I tussle a bit with a 33yr old, but that's private.

I do feel rather transformed in so many good ways.  Yeah, I'm tired.. who wouldn't be with the family I have at the moment, but I feel so so SO much better.

I had to unplug during this whole process as well as the other blog post subject I just posted.  I simply needed time offline to work out stuff in most every aspect of my life.

We've decided (or I decided.. hubby wanted to do it months ago) to last minute ditch town and go to the dude ranch for Thanksgiving!  No big family dinners of trying to keep kids occupied or placated or talking them into eating something.  No sleep deprivation of trying to keep kids in their routines while traveling.  While I love to cook (boy do I cook a mean holiday meal), I had to come to grips with the reality that this year I would not be able to readily enjoy cooking just yet.  Little Lady would need my breasts, Honey Girl would likely be under my feet wanting to help, Big Boy too.  Hubby would be exhausted and stressed trying to help me by keeping them out of the kitchen.  Up at the ranch the kiddos can run free.  I can go for a ride and Hubby can sleep in or nap or walk with Little Lady and a bottle of fresh pumped milk. No dishes.  No cooking.  no bedtime.  Heck, maybe no baths?  But everyone can have a great time out in nature and with animals.

So things continue to meld for us.  I am loving life with three, although it is kind of kicking our butts.  I am reminded a little of Jolie's interview with Jon Stewart.  The smile on her face about her four kids as Jon Stewart marveled at her, as two were kicking his ass.... she laughed and said four were kicking theirs too, but it was great.

I don't feel as tired as I did when Honey Girl was six months age.  I don't feel as overwhelmed or lost in the identity of "mother" as I did when Big Boy was six months old.  I've gotten better at eking out time for myself here and there.  I've gotten much better about demanding (errr.. asking...begging...hiring?) help if I need it.

And yes, I am still in progress.  I'll share more as more comes down the pike.

cya

I have spent many years studying Zen.  I started studying Zen in high school.  A boyfriend had a cousin living at the Zen Mountain Center near Muir Woods in Marin and we would go visit from time to time.  Later, I would learn zen meditation.  It's not much to learn.. you sit... ergo zazen, right?  You bet yer buns I'm being cheeky.. never before has it been more clear that simple is not easy!

In  college I completed as much of a practice period I could for a winter term project, and spent at least four hours (at most over 12 hours) a day in meditation.  This gave me much much time to sit and ponder and move forward from a lot of bad kharma.  In that time I battled demons.  In that time I pondered compassion.  In that time I pondered forgiveness.  In that time I learned *I thought* the ability to let go of everything and rest in nothingness, in solitude.  I hought that was something that could be learned once and kept.  har har har!  I spent time at tassajara in work-study, would practice in Colorado in Boulder, in Ohio...My practice since then has been shotty at best, I will admit it.  I catch glimmers from time to time of the Monk Jess.  I often feel like the still waters running deep.  Dear friends know that by the time my stress or anguish is showing... I'm in serious need of some solitude.  Forget the day at the spa.  Honestly give me an hour alone in a bare room or on a trail, and I come out a new woman.

I now have three kids.  Three amazing kids that blow my mind on a regular basis in most every way.  But... my history as a mother has been that when I become a new mom yet again, my relationship with my own mother suffers for a bit.  Tides of repressed memories crash over me and swallow me up.  I become evasive, abrasive, avoidant with her.  Once I am able to put the past where it belongs, I call, and we move forward as adults. 

I was so relieved that this time through with Little Lady I seemed to be doing oh-so-well.  But then.. muah-ah-ah.... it all got blown to shit like a house of cards over a rough conversation with my mom in the minivan (yup, my second home).  My mom was going through a rough spell herself and was really wanting to know why "no one in this family wants to talk about the past we share".  I glossed, I sashayed, I side-stepped.  I really *did not* want to go there.  The question came around and around.  I felt like I was desperately trying to keep her from reaching behind me to open up the door to a big ugly mess of storage shed.  Finally... my truth came out like a hideous serpent rearing its head to strike.  I said plainly and simply, without spite,... so y'all know it was downright spooky, "Because mom, if I dwelled on the past; if I thought about it deeply and ruminated on it... I would want nothing to do with you."

Needless to say, it took some time for me to re-connect with my mom.  She would call.  I would go robot on her.  I was battling memories I had never before been hit by.  Yes, there were supportive calls with other family members who knew I was not out to vilify my mom, just digging deeper in the dirt to find out what happened.  I got the love and support I needed to muttle through the wretched pile and move forward, yet again.  I know as my children age I will stumble again and again at where my family of origin was when I was their age.  There was a lot of beauty in my childhood, but there was also a fair amount of horrible stuff as well. 

Forgiveness is not a one time thing.  It's a daily process.  In order to keep choosing joy, to keep following my bliss, I need to live in a state of gratitude.  I also hope others forgive me too.  I've done some pretty crappy things in my day.  So, I spent more time in a meditative space.  Did my meditative (but fast-paced and good for me) hiking and cleared out the closet.  I let the memories come and go.  I reminded myself that I would not be who I am were it not for what I had as a kid.  The chasm closed up, and I walked on.

I recently bought Big Boy a brilliant book I adore:  Zen Shorts by Jon J Muth.  He's been asking big questions about spirituality and religion, and I thought this book would be a good jumping off point for him on the whole Zen thing.  I. Love. It.  In this wonderful story is another story about two monks traveling the countryside (it's an ancient story, really).  They come across a party of servants carrying packages and a woman in a sedan.  The woman is mean and nasty, yelling at her servants that she cannot get out due to a puddle and they must carry her.  The servants can't carry her because they are bogged down with all her stuff.  She's fussing and fuming and being horrible.  Finally the old monk picks her up, carries her over the puddle, puts her down.  She scowls and is mean, doesn't say thank you.  The monks move on.  Miles of walking pass when the young monk can't take it anymore.  He fumes in wonder at how the old monk can just go on like he did when that woman was so nasty and didn't even thank him for carrying her over the puddle.  The old monk smiles and says "I put her down miles ago, why are YOU still carrying her??"

Yes.  When I read this story to my son I couldn't help but stop and laugh at myself.  I had gone through such a bout of being a young monk!! 

It's hard sometimes, to just let it go.  When my mom was pushing and pushing her question... I felt like I was the old monk walking along the road, when allll the baggage of the passing caravan landed on top of me.  It's just like that sometimes.  But as I continue in my walk, the bags fall off and I get lighter. 

So today when someone said "Keep choosing joy- follow you bliss"  I had to laugh.  I can't help but reply, "And if you build it, it will come."

Thanks so much for stopping by.  I've been enjoying some time unplugged.  So my blog (and much of my life) is currently under construction.  I'll resurface in a bit with some changes to share.

Dear friends, if you want to know how I'm doing.. yer just gonna have to e-mail me! 

catcha later