Sunday, September 30, 2012

Fall is here.

I did a lot of my growing up at my grandparents' house. Twins games on the radio, sharing peanuts with the squirrels, eating Tombstone pizzas for dinner while watching Wheel of Fortune. The Price is Right followed by The Young and the Restless followed by the news at noon. And, during the summer, gardening. Snipping bits of my grandma's mint and chewing on it, poking at the fat peony flowers that were covered in ants, whirlybirds from the maple trees and stepping on the hard little acorns from the trees out in front. And the tomatoes. Oh, the tomatoes. My grandpa loved his tomato plants. The cucumbers came in a close second, but those weren't as interesting to my young eyes. My grandpa loved those tomatoes each summer and they responded with kindness. Their little fruits lined the kitchen windowsill and my grandma and mom would just pop them into their mouths. This is where you're probably expecting me to tell you about how their love for tomatoes passed to me but, no way, Jose, those things are SICK. I hate them. They are little little zits that pop in your mouth, warm and mushy with little tiny seedy bits. No thanks.

But here I am, pushing 34 and living in the same house where I used to sit in the garage with my grandpa on a little stool, listening to the Twins and tossing sunflower seeds to the birds. Those same stools still hang in the garage and I'm now teaching my own kids to feed the great-great-great-timesamillion-grandkids of those same squirrels who used to run up to my grandma and take treats from her hands. I plant tomatoes in the same spot my grandpa did, the wood is still there but it's in desperate need of repair. I just can't bring myself to do it. I have mints living throughout the garden, I just keep mine in pots in the ground now, to curb their greediness. The only thing that has changed is that we ripped out the nasty rust colored evergreen bushes along the south side of the house. The summer after we did that, a peony bush popped up in the same spot I remember poking at those ants so long ago. 

I was hugely pregnant early in the spring and chasing a toddler around shortly thereafter, with a newborn strapped to my chest. I was a mess and the only reason the garden did anything was a mix of J's help getting everything off to a good start and the perennials I planted in preparation last fall. I watered like a fiend in the early summer because I was on maternity leave but, once I went back to work, I rarely got outside. The minute the weather turned colder, I ripped out the tomatoes and the cucumbers and the pumpkins. I went out to look at everything today and I honestly couldn't remember the last time I had watered everything. And so I did. Eli came up to help, just like he did during the summer and I caught a glimpse of what I hope what will be next summer. Two mobile (I'm looking at you, little Sam) toddlers? I cannot wait. We can show Sam how to feed the chipmunks and bunnies and each boy can have their own little piece of the garden. Maybe a little baseball on the radio, too. Eli will grab a tomato off of the vine and pass it to his little brother, just like my their great grandma and grandma used to do when I was their age.


Saturday, September 29, 2012

Candy Day

One day I'm going to tell you guys all about the diabetes I've had since I was a kid and how that's worked out for me but, first, I'm going to tell you what we did today. This Type 1 diabetic packed up the family and hit the road to hang out at Minnesota's Largest Candy Store. Yes, that's the name of the place and no, they don't have a website or phone.

If you go on a weekend, just know you are going to hit traffic waiting to get into the Ren Fair. We sat in it for about 10 miles which, honestly, I'd rather eat roadkill than do this. But, CANDY. 

When you get to Jordan, keep an eye out for a giant yellow place on your right. It looks just like this.

It's attached to an apple farm, which is great but, come on, CANDY. CANDDDDDDDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. Get it?

Also know that, if you go on a weekend, there will be seventeen thousand people in the place. And don't even THINK about bringing in a stroller, which I decided to do at the last second. Eff me. But, CANDY.

 (Oh, the pickled goodness is intense.)

 (Thank the heavens he slept through the entire thing.)

 (You don't like licorice? Good, I hate it, let's be friends. But if you DO like it, you are strange and gross and they also happen to have six million kinds of the gross stuff.)

(Yeah, that's a ferris wheel filled with popcorn aka Heaven.)

(I have never, ever seen so much friggin' soda in my entire life.)


(He wasn't the only one happy to get out of that circus.)

I got a lot of stuff, most of it chocolate and some of it containing bacon. Chocolate maple bacon fudge, yo. The fresh baked apple pastries are so good and they have tons of pies, salsas, butters & jams and apples from the orchard.

(The haul.)

It's a good thing animated gifs exist, right?

Dad's eyes

I think it's safe to say the smallest member of the family got his dad's eyes.

Friday, September 28, 2012

Instagram time

I always seem to get the urge to update when I first get to work, which means I'm 10+ hours away from being at home where my camera is. And, really, what fun is a blog without some pictures, amirite?? In times such as these, when I am facing the epic struggle between updating or not updating an internet blog, I will always choose to dump a bunch of Instagram pictures on you. That way, we all win.

Feel free to follow me on Instagram, aka my secret boyfriend. @cruelsound

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

One more?

I would really love to have three kids. Hell, I'd take ten of them if it were all really possible, but I feel like any more than 3 would probably ruin me mentally. Let's be real here, I wasn't given any more patience than is absolutely necessary for one human being to function with.

But it probably is not going to happen. Don't get me wrong, neither one of us is going to high tail it on over to the snip snip doctor, but long gone are the days of the last two years which were filled with, "Let's do this!" and high fives and chest bumps and positive pregnancy tests and whatnot. I know how lucky I am to have two little guys to share my life with but, really, two kids is a hard gig, man. I leave for work at 6am, get home after 5 and there's just enough time to hang out for a bit, then eat dinner, then scrub some butts in the bath and finally we end it all with a good, long night filled with sleep. Well, some of us do. My parents watch the kids a few days a week, J has them to himself one day, I have them one day, we share Saturdays and then Sundays are kind of a mish mash of all of those set ups. I can't imagine calling my mom up and saying, "Guess what? You've got one more monkey to wrangle!" Like my grandma told her, "We'll watch these two, no problem, but we will not watch a third. So don't even think about it."

The money thing, eh, who knows. I only know how much it costs to have a baby and raise it up until about the two year point. Anything after that is just a guess. Public school, get a job, buy your own damn car/it's called the bus, no I will NOT be helping you with paying for college but I sure will help you pack, etc etc. It's all a guessing game at this point. Could we financially swing another? Probably. But we also don't plan on paying for every single thing they want for the rest of their lives. We already have the mini van (more on that later) and the cloth diapers, enough clothes to cover a small army and everything else a baby may need saved up from the first go-round. That's not the issue. As each day goes by and my kids get bigger and their screams get louder and their hugs get stronger, I just don't think I really have it in me to be able to survive another. Emotionally, it's hard. Physically, it's even tougher. We may have a big enough car and a (barely) big enough house and a big enough spot in our hearts for one more but, we're tired. And I don't see that getting any easier any time soon.

Plus, what if it ends up being twins? Holy shit.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Stupid sickly sicks

Sick kids are stupid. I hate them. Even the ones that I have grown inside of me for 9 months (give or take). In fact, those are the worst because I have taught them better than that. Or not. Whatever. You know who is even worse? Sick adults, specifically the one I married a few weeks back. The moaning and the needing and the drippy noses and the helplessness. How annoying. And it's usually those sick big people that infect the little ones who are even more sad than their larger counterparts.

J has been sick for the last few days. He's been hopped up on the Walgreens brand cold medicine and those nasty throat drops. My hippie-ness has forced him to drink tea spiked with homeopathic tincture that some earth woman made using vodka and some flowers in her basement. I even cleaned most of the house the other day while he sat on the couch with the kids. It's nothing life threatening and I'm pretty sure he's going to make it, but look at what he's caused in the meantime.

Eli went to the doctor last night or, as I tend to call it, the vet (I get a free pass with this one because, before I was entrusted with the care and safety of baby humans, I had a lot of pets.) He's been randomly screaming at night and having a hard time sleeping, having these insane meltdowns that involve a lot of hand flailing and object throwing during the day, he hasn't been shoveling food down his maw like he usually does and he's just generally been a total pain in the ass.

Diagnosis toddler who happens to also have a sore throat which is probably going to morph into a giant cold demon which means I get to catch the endless boogers with my bare hands and try to figure out a way to get him to sleep without wanting to knife me.

To be fair, I am the WORST sick person ever. If I had to deal with myself with a cold, I would never speak to me again. In fact, I'd probably myself in a closet, toss in a pack of Dayquil and then push a dresser in front of the door so I couldn't get out. Get me grilled cheese no soup no popcorn I AM SO HUNGRY! I need tissues! My stomach/nose/head/face/body/toes hurt! I want to watch tv and I don't care that we don't have cable anymore FIND ME A TV NOWWWWW. Get these dogs off of me! Bring the dogs back! My blanket is too cold! See? I'm an asshole when I'm sick.

Don't tell anyone, but my throat is killing me right now.

(Oh, and ps, for those of you who think I'm some mean person who shouldn't have kids, come on now, I'm not being THAT serious here.)