How Does a Hippopotamus Chew Gum?

When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school it's a wonder I can think at all.

Nils is now old enough to insist that he not get left out. Of anything. All of the big kids are having go-gurt? So is Nils. Mommy is drinking iced tea (decaf)? So is Nils. Mommy is in the bathtub? Daddy is eating ice cream? Carolena is coloring? Yes, yes, and yes. Yesterday he climbed on top of a small blue chair and started singing like it was his stage. Wonder where he got that one from... *cough*carolena*cough

Luckily I spent most of my high school years perfecting the art of slipping a piece of gum into my mouth and chewing it in a way that is imperceptible to others. So, combine that with my knowledge of how to design at yearbook using technology from the late 1990s and it looks like high school was a very educational time for me after all.

Each New Phase

One day when Carolena was still just a little munchkin in her crib I went into her room to find her standing naked from the waist down holding a diaper in her hand. "Hi Mommy. Poop" she said while casually extending the foul diaper in my direction.

With each new phase that my children enter I can choose to be sad or excited. Nils has outgrown the infant swings and bouncers. Carolena no longer uses her old standby, "What you doin' here?!" to get my attention every five minutes (or seconds) as she did a year or so ago. Shoes and clothes and toys are outgrown. I can choose to cling to these things, tucking them away where moth and rust destroy. There is a certain temptation in that: the temptation to cling to their infancies and childhoods. But, it's not how I want to live. I choose to do my best to live my life in the present. To live with my arms open wide, allowing things to flow in and out. I choose to give these things away, knowing that other babies can enjoy them. I choose to celebrate the wonder that my children are growing each day. I give thanks that they are healthy and strong and moving forward. Because, let's face it, they are moving forward whether or not I'm moving along with them.

This morning Carolena came into the living room and announced to me that she had wet through her nighttime diaper. "Well," I replied, "why don't you take it off and get dressed for school then?" She agreed that this would be the best course of action and went on her merry way. Later in the day I found the saturated diaper not in the trashcan but rather in her bed.

Each new phase brings new challenges. Or perhaps... more of the same?

Houston, We Have a Problem

It turns out coffee was the source of all of my patience.
uh oh.

Other than that all is well here in the land of Oz. After several nights of going to bed at 8, I woke up this morning with a new spring in my step. I think the worst is behind me. I forgot about how wonderful it feels to wake up and bounce out of bed - you know, as opposed to my norm old habit of dragging out of bed to the coffee pot like a zombie.

As for the patience, it turns out that came from deep inside of me. Like, my stomach... where a daily dose of six cups of coffee set the tone. I wonder how many times I can be referred to as "Grinch" today by Cindy Loo Hoo before I totally lose it. Yesterday set the bar high at a total of one. One time and I snapped. Luckily its the Grinch's job to be mean so it worked out okay.

Hopefully this Grinch's heart will grow three sizes today.

Whopper

I recently searched for Burger King online and the review for the one nearest my house said, and I kid not, "This is a good place to go if you want to sit by yourself and cry."

On Saturday I had a whopper of a migraine... like... Chris checking on me every few minutes wondering at what point to bring me to the hospital kind of migraine. It was rough.

So, here I am on Tuesday AKA day three of no caffeine. I'm bummed about it. I love drinking coffee. Don't you dare try to tell me that decaf is a good substitute. It's not. Especially since what I love about coffee is the way it feels to finish cup six and then wonder if my stomach lining is going to fall out and then rediscover that I can type faster than my brain can think. But, I remember being totally off caffeine a few years ago and having migraines under better control... so... here I go again.

I'm bummed about saying farewell to my dear friend the coffee pot but am going to give it a year or so and see what happens with my migraines. All in all... not a day for crying at Burger King.

It's a beautiful day here in Texas so I'll be on my deck sipping some lemonade and enjoying the sun trying to think about anything other than an espresso.

Just Sit Right Back and You'll Hear a Tale

If you haven't watched the latest episode of Parenthood- spoiler alert ahead! And, why haven't you watched it?! That show is so awesome! YOU are the reason it's ending! Kelly... we're all looking at you here. You take credit for MadMen's success (and rightfully so). Then you shall also be blamed for Parenthood's demise.

You or the fact that it's been on for like 50 seasons and had to lose steam eventually. Tomato, tomato.

I just watched it last night. I got curled up in my bed with the laptop. This is the one show I watch in bed - a habit I long ago developed for watching Parenthood. It keeps me from having to hear the endless questions and "ugh, soap opera!" comments from he who shall not be named. *ahem*chris*ahem*

Curled up in my bed, laptop snuggled next to me, fuzzy slippers on my feet. Oh yeah.

What is it with labor and delivery on tv and movies? Why is there so much screaming and freaking out? Hello, have you heard of an epidural? Just shut up and push that baby out! Geeze.

Anyway, I digress. Amber had her baby and Zeke showed up and got to meet his great great grandson Zeke and the music began swelling and the tears were just about to start flowing...
and then my cat sat down next to me and puked.

Evidently Olive is not a fan of Parenthood.
She's more of a Gilligan's Island fan I presume.

9:15 (am of course. pm is bedtime)

At 420 my alarm went off just as I was about to open a box full of Kathy Orgain's fruitcake (which was evidently very exciting in dream world. Does she even make fruitcake? I don't know - but I have had her cookies... mmmm). Literally, I was lifting the lid when the alarm went off.

At 545 I found myself lying on the floor in a pool of my own sweat while a small woman who looks strikingly similar to Kate Hudsen told me that while I was down there I should do some pushups. On one leg. So I did.

At 630 I walked through the door to a dark quiet calm house.
At 631 I heard Carolena yell, "Hi Mommy! Nils and I are awake!" and Nils began screaming.
At 632 I found a boy covered covered in poop.

At 645 both kids were relaxing the in the bathtub eating waffles. Turns out breakfast bathtime isn't a bad idea.

At 715 I drank a second cup of coffee

8something Chris (who gets credit for washing out poopy sheets and clothes) and Carolena headed out for some errand running

830 Nils helped me start sorting through toys and reorganizing... it goes without saying that it is now worse than when we started.

905 and Nils is in his bed loudly protesting his nap. Laundry is going and going. Ella, Frank, and Billie on the playlist. I'm ready for a hot bath with a good book. And perhaps another swig or two of coffee.

We're Off to See the Wizard

I spent my whole life hearing about Midnight Cowboy - one of my parents' favorite movies. It was originally rated X, but my parents insisted that ratings have become more lenient. When I was in high school the three of us rented it and at one graphic point in a movie about a male prostitute which I was watching with my parents I had to exclaim, "uh... guys... could this be why this movie is rated X?!!?" Word to the wise: don't rent Midnight Cowboy with your parents.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow has always been in my repertoire of 'go to' songs when children are melting down. No, not because I'm a huge Judy Garland fan, but rather because I'm a huge Tobias fan and it gets stuck in my head.

Last week I realized Carolena was probably ready to fall in love with Dorothy and the gang and we grabbed a copy of the dvd from the library. I warned her that the movie "might be scary" but what was I thinking?! This is the kid who's favorite character in Frozen is the snow monster. At one point during the movie she announced to Chris, "This isn't scary! It's just a guy in a lion costume!"

So, if you are interested in coming to our home anytime soon know that you are coming to the land of Oz where Ding Dong the Witch is Dead plays continuously and you will be referred to as a "cutie" (I just can't convince her that they are called munchkins).

I fully expected to be referred to as "witch" from henceforth. Demands to cackle while a kid threw water on me seemed imminent. Surprisingly I've been shoved into the role of Dorothy! My job is to lie on the floor mumbling "there's no place like home" while Auntie Em puts a cool washcloth on my face. Not bad. It's not bad at all.

Speaking of Judy Garland... I sing a lot of Liza Minelli's Caberet music to my kids. So much so that Carolena can sometimes be heard singing things like, "dee dee dee dee two pancakes... I like them..." I can't wait until she's old enough to watch that movie. She is going to be so surprised. It's like a fabulous joke 18 years in the making.

Oh... Karen and Jim... now I just see what you did there. Yep, you got me!

ABCs of Casey's Interests

I've always thought that you could learn a lot about someone by their google search history. So, here is mine:

Alf
Benedryl for babies
Crock pot roast
Drake passage
Ernest Shackleton
Fort bend women's shelter resale
Golden snitch sweater
How to do a one armed pushup
Indoor rock climbing katy
Jennifer aniston ring
Katy texas events
Lutefisk
Memphis
Nils Holgersson
Origami goose
Prius "key detecting in vehicle" alarm while driving
Q (nothing)
Rudolph movie bird that doesn't fly
St louis
Twilight zone
Uni toys wombat
Verse about she bears
Wombat video
X (nothing)
Youtube sweatin to the oldies
Z (nothing)

 Yep, that seems about right.

The Wonderful Adventures of Nils

The Wonderful Adventures of Nils
By Nils

No one should be a bigger cheerleader for you than you are for yourself. When you get to where you are going, clap. Clap loudly and look around encouraging others to clap for you as well.

Crayons... mmmm boy! Have you ever tasted those things?! I just can't get enough of 'em!

Cats. Ha! They crack me up. Who wouldn't want to squeal in those fury little faces?

You know what's more fun than cats? Mommy. I like to scream in her face too. She screams back in the same pitch. It's hilarious! But... you know what's more fun than Mommy? Daddy. Man, that guy is just the best. The best.

Mooning You

Do you ever look at the moon?

I love to stare at the moon. With dinner and baths and tucking in and early to bed early to rise nonsense, I rarely see the moon at night. But, at 4somethingam when I leave my house for the Y (which arguably could be "night") I love to stare up at the moon. Other people are hustling and bustling in and out of the Y and here's old Luna Lovegood staring up at the sky.

Last week the moon caught my eye. Its enormity, brightness, and overall beauty... I just couldn't look away. "I want to go there!" I thought. I found myself thinking about this one action of staring at the moon in longing and how it really tied me in with humanity. I thought about how for so long humans longed to go there. What is that beautiful place? What will we find when we arrive? Generations and generations of people have stared at the moon in wonder. And then we finally got there and it was a big barren rock.

{Que Debby Downer music.}

The moon, while cool, is a big desolate rock. Space travel? Fascinating. The moon? Eh. What makes the moon enchanting is the fact that it reflects the light of the sun.

And then it hit me... we are not the moon.

Christ says, "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill can't be hidden." (Matt 5:14) Bam! Just like that I understood that we are nothing like the moon. The moon in and of itself is not all that interesting. Stand far away and watch the light of the sun reflect from it surface? Yeah, I can dig that. I like to look at that everyday. But go there? Hang out? Grab some drinks and start a long term relationship? Well... sorry moon... I, uh, have a previous engagement... some dude is bringing me to the movies.

We aren't the moon. We are a city on a hill. We give light. Sure, we are beautiful because we reflect God, but we are also beautiful in and of ourselves! We are a city on a hill for Christ's sake! Show up on the moon and you want to go home. Trudge all the way up a hill to a well lit city? Bring me my slippers and a bag of Doritos. I'm staying for there the long haul!

Now, let me take off my astronaut space helmet and put on my southern-pastor's-wife-teased-bleached-hair. You were created in the image and likeness of God. You are beautiful. You aren't the moon! Your beauty isn't surface value. You aren't just reflecting the fabulousness of others. You are a city on a hill! You have light and depth of your own! You bring beauty into the world. You are a place where people want to stay. So, be the city that God created you to be. Shine brightly with your own light. Be confident in who you are and who God made you to be.

Now think about this combined with the fact that God, the source of all light and life, dwells within us... and your head might explode.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!

bamboozled

I once got bamboozled into going on a date. How does one get bamboozled into sitting in a dark theater with her legs wadded up onto the seat and her hands as out of handholding reach as possible cringing and wishing she were anywhere else but there, you ask?
Well, I'll tell you...

He asked me.

That's about it. I didn't realize "I'm going to drive to your house and pick you up and bring you to the movies" meant "would you like to go on a date?"

Along with a giant banana costume, impeccable taste, and broad shoulders, I think I got my dating skills from my father. Clearly, it wasn't from Cookie  Karen.

Je Ne Sais Quoi...

I once penned a letter which included the big news that I had "made the B on a roll."
20/20 hindsight tells me that specifying it was the B rather than all As was perhaps unnecessary.

At a recent party a friend read Carolena a book that included a lesson on how to say thank you in French. "Merci" I heard Carolena and my friend practicing. Then came the big reveal. They stood in front of a group of women and E asked C, "Carolena, can you say thank you in French?" to which Carolena promptly announced, "Thank you in French!"

Classic.

ONE!

Happy 1st birthday to the sweetest most adorable boy I know:

Nils Morgan Duncan!

He likes to chase our cats, eat anything found on the floor, and play with anything noisy. He can be a little wild man and loves to roughhouse.

He is an eating machine who really prefers sweets. Let Carolena have all the raw mushrooms, Nils wants pudding.

Nils has discovered that Mommy appears to be somewhat of a slave. Therefore, she should carry him around like the king that he is. He cries until I pick him up and then points, grunts, and makes very "I'm more dignified than you" faces until he gets to where he wants to go.

 

Nils is the biggest flirt. The twinkle in his eye and his coy little smile. This guy is trouble.

Reserved in public, he'll smile and flirt but has no trouble with me leaving him in the nursery. Why cry that Mommy's leaving when there are two young females to impress?

 

He has six teeth and can walk! He's stingy with the walking trick though and expects everyone to clap with him when he accomplishes this feat.

 

He's happy and he knows it and he'll clap along to show it. He's our delightful, charming, smart, beautiful, wonderful, loveable boy and we love him love him love him!

Happy birthday my darling boy!

What the Doctor Ordered

"Well, Nils and I are going to go to the pretend Kroger's bathroom and get some medicine for you. Does that sound good, Cindy Lou Hoo? Does it?"

No.
No, medicine from the Kroger bathroom, pretend or otherwise, does not sound good to me.
It does not.

What did Cindy Loo Hoo ever do to the Grinch to deserve such treatment?

Notice that I've moved up in the world? Cindy Loo Hoo! Not a villian! Although, I'm only dubbed Cindy Loo Hoo if it's the end when the "Grinch is nice now."

Although, judging from the amount of lipstick smeared across the top of an old cup of coffee I found in my car this morning it seems as though I am like one crazy step away from buying medicine in a Kroger bathroom.

So, in that case, sure! Grab me a box of Imitrex and some Claritin while you're in there because that stuff is expensive.

Alf, Of Course

Carolena just saw a picture of Alf and said to me, and I quote, "I wish that Grandma would make that costume for me."

I could barely speak for love and pride of my child.

Finally, I uttered an inane stammering response, "Alf? You want an Alf costume?" I asked for clarification. To which she responded, "Yes, I wish that Grandma would make Alf costumes for our whole family."

Me too, Carolena. Me too.

Is That a Speck of Sawdust in Your Eye?

A few weeks ago I found myself perusing the wine aisles at Kroger while my two munchkins chowed down on the free sample cookies we'd scored. Okay, okay, there is a slight chance that I too was munching on the free sugar high. We weren't long on the wine aisle before some familiar faces came by. They too were looking for wine as in-laws were going to be at their home for an extended stay. In our family, grandparents bring a suitcase full of wine and coffee knowing that both will be consumed in large quantities. Evidently this is not true for all families. Go figure.

Anyway, Carolena and her friends commenced what appeared to be a break dancing contest to which the other mother turned a blind eye while I screeched "Don't you dare break any of this wine!" It was around this time that Carolena began to check out the grocery items in the other family's cart. And just what was her friends' cart? Frozen cereal.

Frozen cereal for Pete's sake.

Not frozen cereal like something you might find stashed between a bag of corn and a boxed pizza. Frozen cereal as in Elsa, Anna, Olaf and the rest of the gang. Frozen cereal as in a kid's Gucci bag. Frozen cereal as in this was the same girl who had asked Santa for "apps" this year. Apps.

Since that day Carolena has asked exactly one time to get Frozen cereal. I think she knew asking even once was a long shot. That's the kind of thing grandparents buy. And at the age of three she has probably already noticed that we're more dented cans kind of people than made-in-house guacamole types. What she will hopefully grow to learn as time goes by is why I can't bring myself to buy expensive groceries. I'm sure she'll spend some time yearning for her version of a Dooney bag, but if I do my job right, eventually she too will shun the Starbucks brand coffee in favor of Costco's Kirkland in bulk.

It's not about the money per se.

Well, that's not true. It's almost entirely about money. 

There is something about the fact that there are people in this world, many many people in fact, without enough to eat that makes me steer clear of the organic chicken. Yes, yes, I know that it's kinder to the chickens. And yes, I know that it's better for my family. But... I am grateful to even afford chicken at all. So I stop in front of those poor lifeless frozen (with a lower case f) chicken and give thanks that I can buy food. We keep beans stocked in the pantry not only because we love red beans and rice, but also because I don't want to be the rich man passing by Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31).

I mean no offense to Frozen cereal buying people. Even as I type I am certain I am peering right around the log sticking out of my eye. But for me, for now, I will rest easier knowing that there are people eating tonight because we spent our extra grocery money on cans for the food bank. I will serve dinner from some dented marked down boxes so that we can send some money to ERD. And in the morning when Carolena and Nils sit down at our kitchen table I can open the bag of store brand Happy O's and pour them each a bowl, thankful for the fact that we have so much food and love in our home.

You know what? That's not true either.
That's who I would like to be.

Instead, I am the mom who serves her kids red beans and rice and then beats myself up that we don't do enough. I lie awake in bed worrying over unknown people, unseen faces who are suffering. Chris sometimes accuses me of secretly wearing a hair shirt. But, I am who I am. And like Erma Bombeck, "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'."

I hope that someday Carolena and Nils will choose to spend their money on others rather than themselves. Though it is counter-intuitive, it remains true that breakfast from a crushed box of off brand oatmeal fills the stomach much more than a bowl of Frozen cereal. 

The Wonderful Adventures of Nils

The Wonderful Adventures of Nils
By Nils

Why does Mommy always pick things up that should be on the floor? Sippy cups full of water, spoons covered in yogurt, large handfulls of oatmeal... these things belong on the kitchen floor. I put them there with great intention. Why does she keep giving them back to me?!

Mommies don't know anything about refined palates. What she sees as stray bits of cardboard from the cats' scratching boards, I see as delicacies. 

A coy smile can get you places. Scramble over to the dvds and take a gander. Is the door unlocked? Open it. Pull out every dvd you can reach. Pull them out in a frenzy, and try to get every single one onto the floor before Mommy comes over. If Mommy notices you at any point during this foray, utilize that coy smile and glint in your eyes to charm her into letting you play. If you get to the dvds and the door happens to be locked, wail in misery and bang against it like it was your last chance at freedom.

Conversational Carolena

"Can I have a snack?"

Me: "Carolena, why is your whoppie frog (her blankie) sticking out of your pants?"
Carolena: "Because I'm storing things in there."

"Can I have a snack?"

"Carolena, please carry this to your room" I said as I held out a pair of clean pajamas. "I can't," she replied waving her empty hands at me, "I'm a baby polar bear. Polar bears don't have hands. They have paws."

"Can I have a snack?"

Time Enough at Last

Friday morning I arrived home from boot camp (yes, really) and announced to my family,
"Pack your bags and get in the car. We're going to Austin!"

After days and days of dreary cold weather and nothing notable to do, we were itching for an adventure. So, we made it happen. A couple of hours later (we he had to wait for the foundation dude to come out - I'd forgotten about that) we were off!

After a great day in our capital city a.k.a our old stomping grounds and the birthplace of Carolena we arrived back at our hotel room, bathed the nuggets, and got them both tucked in.

The night was young. I could hear the pleasant sounds of my children sleeping and the rain falling upon the window. I was enjoying the bliss that comes from lying in a bed with clean sheets that I did not have to wash nor put on the bed. My pajamas were cozy. My body was exhausted from the early workout. I was under a big fluffy comforter with a David Sedaris book and small reading light.

Content and giddy with the prospect of lying in bed for hours reading an enjoyable book, I flipped on the light and began to read. One paragraph later I watched in agony as the small led book light dimmed... dimmed... dimmed... and died.

 

Time Enough at Last indeed.

Yeeha!

I've never actually been a part of the calf scramble at the rodeo...

 but I'm pretty sure I could win a calf.

I have lots of practice diapering and clothing this little guy every single day.

I've seen those kids at the rodeo chase down the calves, tie a rope around them, and drag them to the center of Reliant. Yep, it's pretty much the same.

Is it Too Late to Drive to Austin?

Chris and I have always agreed on one very important thing: that attitude matters very much. Even when we were dating we knew that this was a key component to our relationship. We both prefer to live somewhere in the zone between realistic and overenthusiastic optimism. We're "bloom where you are planted" kind of people, except not that cliched. So perhaps we are "I like life. Life likes me" kind of people.

All this is to say, when life hands us limes we make margaritas.

I don't know how high-stress major type A kind of people cope with parenthood. The ups and downs of the unknown and unplanned - how do they cope without cracking?

Every year Chris takes off the week between Christmas and New Year's Day. And, I believe, every single year our plans are thwarted. This year we talked about going to Austin and then decided to go camping. Cold weather turned camping plans into hiking plans. Our hiking day was shortened by both the cold weather and the misery of what turned out to be a sick child. A child's singular runnynosed misery led to children's plural misery and the late night purchase of a second "heffalump" humidifier.

Not very clear skies were trumped by relatively clear noses and cabin fever so we ventured out to George Ranch for some general merriment back in time. When we got there we didn't even get kids unbuckled. The frigidly cold air (to these Texans anyway) and the realization that we'd left Carolena's coat at home prompted a quick parental regrouping. Playing on the mall playground started to look like a pretty good outing.

Chris' vacation continued with a wife who fell asleep on the living room floor at 8pm on New Year's Eve and has continued with his lying in bed feeling sick on New Year's Day. He gets the added bonus of trying to sleep while listening to the soothing sounds of Carolena crying over a ripped coloring book page. She's under the kitchen table in a move that quite resembles Randy's "Daddy's gonna kill Ralphie" weeping.

Yep, it's a good thing we have relatively laid back attitudes around here. Although... perhaps next year Chris should save these vacation days for the spring?