Handle It

My favorite coffee cup is breaking.  It hasn't officially broken yet, but it's going to happen.  There is a crack where the handle meets the mug and I can hear it creaking when I lift it to my mouth to take a sip.

I bought this coffee cup when I was sixteen or seventeen years old.  At a coffee shop in Saratoga Springs, NY called Madeline's; I spent quite a bit of time there when I was in high school.  I remember seeing it on display with other coffee cups, all designed by kids. I was new to drinking coffee, but I bought it because I loved the stars and the Earth and the faces, and I figured buying a coffee cup made me an official coffee drinker.

It went to college with me.  And then to the house I shared with some girlfriends.  To my first apartment.  Then to the house Wade and I bought after we got married.  Now here, where I like to make sure I can see it in the cupboard with the glass door. 

One day I was taking it out of the dishwasher and I noticed that I had inadvertently named my daughter after my coffee cup.  Seriously!  And now my Sophia is nine years old, the same age as the coffee cup Sophia when she drew this picture.


I know it's just a coffee cup and I had intended to end this post with something like, "I know it's just a coffee cup, but it holds a little bit of my history."  Blah Blah Blah.  Something like that...I hadn't thought that far ahead yet.  But, on a whim, I googled "Save the Children coffee cup" and guess what showed up at the top of the list?!  I forwarded the link to Wade who just informed me that the delivery date is March 6th.  Even though it won't be the same mug, it's close enough.  And I can totally handle that.

65 Degree Mom

Today I need to clean bathrooms, fold laundry and vacuum my whole house.  So, I decided to sit down and write a blog post instead.  My first of 2014!  I love Tuesdays.  All three kids are at school and I usually don't have to go into work, so it's a day all to myself.  But, it's 9:30am right now and, in the blink of an eye, it will be 3:30 and Lily will be dropped off and I'll be heading out the door to pick up Sophie and Max.  And the quiet will all be over.

Don't get me wrong.  I love my kids.  I would give my life to protect them.  But lately, I worry I might strangle them with my own bare hands.  The constant fighting, the constant messes, and the snotty attitudes are wearing on my last nerve.  This winter has turned me into a terrible mom.  Too much screen time.  Too much yelling.  Too many days trapped inside.  Lily keeps saying, "It's almost summer, Mom."  But she's wrong.  I'm losing faith that I'll ever see summer again.

I'm a better summer mom than I am a winter mom.  I don't like to do winter things.  The one and only time I've ever been downhill skiing my brother left me in a heap on the side of a mountain and it left a bad taste in my mouth.  I'm not coordinated enough for ice-skating and it just looks like a whole lot of cold anyway.  Snow-shoeing and cross country skiing sound like more work than fun with a four-year-old in tow.  I'm chilly even on a warm day; I'm just not built for these long Minnesota winters.

I like heading to the park to play Monster tag (moms are monsters, kids run and scream a lot).  I like sitting on the patio with a glass of wine while my husband grills dinner and my kids run around with the neighbor boys.  I like hiking (no cliffs!) and camping and going to the beach.  I love being outside...but only when it's above 65 degrees.
 
But somehow I always manage to survive.  If only because of hot coffee and my electric blanket.  This is the worst winter that I can remember, and I suppose I'll survive this one, too.  But maybe a shot of Bailey's in that hot coffee wouldn't hurt.

One Size Fits Few

I was in my car running errands the other day and I heard a radio ad for a weight loss company.  They were interviewing one of their "success stories" and she was saying that until this program she had back problems, was tired all of the time and over all wasn't enjoying her life (that was the message she gave, at least).  Then they asked the big question...how much did she lose?  Her answer was "I went from a size 8 to a size 2."

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!  My GOAL is a size 8.

I get that these companies target overweight people (mostly women).  I understand that when you are 20, 30, 50, 80 pounds overweight that those extra pounds do things to your body that you don't even realize they are doing.  But unless you are under 3 feet tall, a size 8 is a healthy weight.  A beautiful weight.  And to target women who are at a healthy weight...to imply that unless you are a size 2 you need to lose weight...well, that's bullshit.  (Sorry mom!)

A couple of years ago I made a vow on this very blog to stop talking about my body issues.  And I'm not going to start again now.  But I am going to say this...  I eat a gluten-free, almost sugar free diet.  I exercise 5 - 6 days week for 1 1/2 hours.  I can't say that none of that is for my weight, but I can say that each day that passes it's less and less about my weight and more about how I feel.  I may not have reached my goal (I'm close!), but for anyone to imply that my size 8 isn't good enough...isn't thin enough...that because I'm not a size 2 I need to lose another 40 pounds, that really gets my goat.

I'm sure you've all seen this by now, but it's something that I think all women, not just young girls, need to see.  We have unrealistic expectations for ourselves and for others and it's destroying healthy female self-esteem throughout our entire country.

http://www.upworthy.com/see-why-we-have-an-absolutely-ridiculous-standard-of-beauty-in-just-37-seconds

I'm going to forget about what the scale says and what size pants I buy...my new goal is to teach my daughters (and son, too) to eat healthy and to love their bodies and the beautiful array of bodies God has created.  Even bodies that aren't a size 2.

Happy National Coffee Day!

This morning I woke up and my entire family was still sleeping.  My kids are very early risers, so this rarely happens.  I decided to take advantage of it!  I started a pot of coffee, and because I am an impatient person, I waited only long enough for one cup to have brewed and then I poured it into my favorite mug.  I enjoyed that first cup in pure silence and it was bliss.  I hope your day got off to such a perfect start as well.

HAPPY NATIONAL COFFEE DAY!!  

 

A letter from the College of Veterinary Medicine

This just arrived in the mail today.  Doesn't make losing our dog any easier, but makes me love our vet even more than I did before. 

 

Thanks, Dr. Melbo!

The Sand Momster

This past weekend I went camping with my family.  Just the five of us.  It went remarkably well.  I did forgot a few minor things, like plates and the kids' toothbrushes.  And one major thing: coffee cups.  I forgot the thing that gets the coffee from the coffee pot to my mouth.  But my husband bought these to get us by. 

I'm sorry, Mother Nature.  Coffee won this round.

We hiked (it was really more like a glorified walk) to the Willow River Falls.  Beautiful.  And the kids loved exploring the little caves along the shores of the river.  They saw a crayfish.  And a stick bug (or Phasmatodea...I looked it up!).

 
That afternoon we went to the beach.  The kids quickly made friends and spent several hours building sand villages.  It was perfect!  They were having a great time and I got to sit in my camping chair with a beer (I love Wisconsin!!). Then, just off to the left, in front of where Wade and I sat, a family planted themselves.  I casually watched as the mom and three kids started building their own sand world.  They were digging, filling and emptying buckets, shaping hills and decorating their sandy land with tiny trees.  Guilt set in.  This mom wasn't sitting back, watching her kids play.  She was in there, hands filthy and knees caked with sand.  I looked over at my kids, Max almost completely buried in sand by his sisters and their new beach friends.  I should be over there.  With them.  I glanced back at the good mom.  By this point their village was sprawling, with rivers and valleys.  I focused in for just a second, eavesdropping on their family memory.   As I listened, I heard the mom say, "Not there.  No no, that's not where that goes.  You have to start it over there.  Build it to that corner and then dig to this wall."  The kids scurried to do as they were told.  I couldn't help but keep listening and I started to realize that this mom wasn't really playing with her kids.  She was directing them.  This wasn't their beach habitat.  It was hers.  Before I sound too judgemental, allow me to finish my thought.  I realized, watching this mom and letting my guilt dissipate, that had I gotten down on my hands and knees in the sand with my kids, I would have been the. same. way.  So, my kids played down the beach, checking in from time to time, usually wanting a snack.  And my husband and I sat and watched.  Drink in hand.  Not a grain of sand above my toes.

I will leave you with this lesson in making the best of a bad situation...a popped air mattress.

(Turn the volume down, the sound quality is terrible.  Sorry.)

Seventeenth

The other day a friend told me that my suburb, Apple Valley, MN, is ranked #17 on Money Magazine's list of best places to live.  In the United States. In full disclosure, Chanhassen, MN is #4 (something about bouncing back and a festival with ice-fishing). But I'll take #17.  Less pretentious.  More Minnesotan.

http://money.cnn.com/magazines/moneymag/best-places/2013/snapshots/PL2701900.html