Slow down

Dear Spoon,

You started Kindergarten today.

You were so very excited, you came running into my room at 6:30 this morning, determined not to be late by even a moment. Overjoyed by the newness of it all — new backpack, new shoes, new school, you floated through the morning.

Once we reached the school, you led the way across the meadow to your classroom, shouting over your shoulder, “Come on, Mom!” You ran up to every kid who was about your size on the way and introduced yourself, asking each of them if they were in your class. A few minutes on the playground before the bell rang, and you already had a pack of new friends.

How did you grow up so much, so fast?

The bell rang, and I asked if I could give you a hug goodbye. “Oh, okay, Mom. If you have to.” Already worried about what the other kids might think. “I have to.” I said, and I gave you a quick hug and kiss, wondering how my baby had suddenly decided to become a preteen overnight as you ran to your classroom.

Once I was back in the car, the silence was so foreign. I thought about you all day, and tried not to feel sad that in your excitement, in your sudden maturity, my status had somehow shifted. I am so happy for the person I see you becoming, and feel so grateful for every opportunity you have which I am fortunate enough to witness.

So this is the difference between parenting a toddler and parenting a kid: watching from the sidelines, and quietly cheering.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t overjoyed when I met you at the end of the day and you flung yourself into my arms, words coming at a tumble: “MAMA! I missed you, Mama! I had the best day ever! We went on a hunt for a raccoon and there were clues! I have a new best friend! School is great! I love you, Mama! My teacher is awesome!”

These are the times when I get to hold tight to your smallness, and bite my tongue a little to keep from whispering, “Slow down. Stay little.”

I love you, little one.






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Tiny Superhero

Dear Spoon,

It has been so long since I wrote you a letter. Our days get busier as each week passes, as you race the sun to grow up (too quickly, in my opinion). You are five now. A joyful, insightful, curious, and emphatically loving child. You amaze me on a daily basis.

You wake each morning early and tumble into our room, where you crawl in bed with me and we have long talks about your dreams the night before and any number of other things — science questions, kids at school, books, cartoons, and the big goals you tell me you have for your life. You want to be a paleontologist, and sometimes a ballerina. You tell me that you plan to marry 1,000 people: every one of your friends, even the ones you haven’t met yet, because you love them all so much. You tell me I can come live with you and your 1,000 spouses, because you don’t want to be away from your mama — but you tell me we’ll need a really big house. Your pragmatism cracks me up.

Your best friends are Maeve, Annabella, Lyla, and Payden. You love school to the point that you get upset when there’s a snow day. You’re doing really well in school. You are reading on your own now, leveled readers from your teacher as well as your own storybooks. You like math, and are doing addition and subtraction easily now. Your favorite way to spend your day at school is making art, though. You come home some days with three or more finger paintings, a craft, and a crayon-drawn picture for me. You color mandalas in your yoga class that you insist must be perfect. You bring them home half-finished, and spend hours at the dining room table with your colored pencils creating masterpieces.

You are my star, bright and fearless. You love riding horses and skiing. You seek out the tiny “jumps” we let you go over on your skis in the kid terrain areas, and love winding your way through the trees. When it’s warm enough, you race down hiking trails with the dogs; the third in their little pack. You love all animals, from snails and snakes to horses and goats, and everything in between. Somehow, already at five, you have learned to stand up smiling whenever you fall. I wish I could say I taught you that. I wish I could say I did it myself. You operate on the principle that people are good and the world is joyful, even when bad things happen, and for that you are my tiny hero.

Sometimes I miss the baby you were not so very long ago, and other moments I see the person you are becoming, and am so filled with joy and pride and eagerness for you. I am so proud of you always, little one.

I love you.



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On losing one’s mind.

I would never describe my mother as level-headed. My relationship with her is complicated and dysfunctional in the way only a relationship with a parent who has struggled with mental illness can be. Sometimes, she appears completely normal. Sometimes her affect is off. I have learned to recognize her manic periods by her tone of voice and the names she calls me. She has spent her life struggling with depression, and has made several suicide attempts over the years. She has done her fair share of manic shopping. She is horribly manipulative, and rarely honest — with herself, or anyone else. She hoardes dogs, and things that she buys from the Goodwill, carefully stacking other people’s cast-offs into piles and pathways through her home. Mom has health issues, too. She is a diabetic, and takes medicine for high cholesterol as well as depression. Occasionally, she will have a period of enlightenment when she is lucid, mostly logical, takes her medicine, and appears to be in good spirits. Sometimes these times last hours or days, sometimes months.

I live about 1700 miles away from my mother. I have all sorts of guilt about that, especially because it left my sister with greater responsibility for her, largely because of geography. On the other hand, I am nearly certain that distancing myself from my family was one of the smartest decisions I have made as an adult, even more now that I have a daughter of my own. I talk to my mother about once a week on the phone, in which she chatters on about her dogs or the weather. It’s not a real conversation, but I don’t know that I have ever had a real conversation with my mom. I check in to see if she’s lucid, if she is able to walk around, if she’s alive — that’s pretty much all these calls tell me. Lately, I thought she was doing fairly well. She was able to converse mostly normally (though still about very little), and she had recently told me she was getting rid of some of the things in her house and cleaning it, she is trying to eat healthy, she is taking walks with her dogs, and doing well. She clearly was lying.

She was admitted to the emergency room about a week and a half ago. She had chronic diarrhea due to severe colitis, was delusional, spouting nonsense, was at the lowest weight she has likely been in her life, and had a blood alcohol concentration of 200ml. After leaving against the request of the hospital and being readmitted to the ER a few hours later, she ended up in intensive care for several days. They did a full body scan, and discovered deep dementia fissures in her brain as well as encephalitis. My sister was there with her for nearly a week, trying to piece together my mother’s true health condition along with the doctors, and dealing with mom’s hostility toward her and her delusional speech the whole time.

During my mom’s stay at the hospital my sister went to mom’s house, where mom hadn’t been staying for several days since she had been house-sitting for her friend. When she got there, my sister found doors and windows left standing open, the key in the lock of the front door, piles of things everywhere, and medications that had not been taken, or had been taken incorrectly. (Too many or two few pills left in bottles.) She did not find unusual amounts of alcohol or empty alcohol bottles, so that is still a bit of a mystery, but clearly she has a problem which is strange and unexpected — I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen my mom drink even a half a glass of wine in my life. There are other mysteries which we are still trying to get to the bottom of, as well. The neighbors told my sister that they were concerned for mom, who often stood in her driveway for extended periods of time, doing nothing. A social worker visited mom in the hospital, and arranged for a mental health nurse to visit her once she returned home. It was pretty much agreed that if left in her home instead of assisted living, they would be expecting to see mom in the emergency room again, and likely soon, if mom was very lucky to avoid the alternative.

The state nurse came and evaluated mom a couple of days after she returned home, and mom convinced her that she’s just fine. Because she can access outpatient services, they will not place her in an inpatient facility. Because she can answer yes and no questions and sign her name, we can not legally force guardianship and move her to somewhere that she will be supervised and safe. And so now we wait for her to either die, or end up back in the emergency room, at which point she will only be released into assisted living. My sister is frustrated and angry. I am struggling with what the most humane course of action is, and with the ideas of free will, and motherhood, and obligation, and preservation of the generations. My mom told me she went to the hospital for “a couple of days” because she had the flu. And that she is perfectly fine. Legally our hands are tied, and there is a looming dread about all of this which I am still unable to put into words efficently.

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Bad blogger. No doughnut.

I have been a writing slacker lately. It seems I’ve spent the past couple of months in triage mode, and haven’t been blogging or writing anywhere. I’m hoping to remedy that, though it will likely be gradual until things shake out and we’re back in a regular routine around here.

In the meantime, I started another blog strictly about our place up here. I’ll be writing mainly about gardening and homesteading in the foothills. There will probably be some DIY mishaps recaps and tutorials. You can find that stuff here:

In the meantime, this will be, as always my personal blog for essays, etc. Less “how to” and more how we’re doing. I’d love for you to follow both if it suits your fancy.

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2015 Goal check in…

I made a list of goals for the year here, and figured I would follow up…

Aaron had been out of town pretty much the last week and a half, which gave me a ton of time and motivation to get some projects done. I got all the emissions/title transfer/plates done on his car. (Dumb, I know, but when you have to go a couple of different places, it’s a bit of a project.) I stripped and sealed all the tile in our master bathroom, and even managed to get most of the nasty stains out that we inherited. I also put some elbow grease into the original stone fireplace, and got it all cleaned up. Who knew the entire top layer of rock next to the mantle was raw quartz?! Also, the stone it’s built from is moss rock, not the grey field stone I thought it was. And 30 years of soot is DISGUSTING! Anyhow, I think it looks pretty nice. I also repaired our linen cabinet, which got pretty banged up in the move. The locking mechanism on the door was pretty bent and mangled, but now it seems to be working fine. I’ve also been doing a ton of little tiny repairs around here… changing a shower head, fixing the way a painting was suspended… dumb stuff like that. At least I feel like I have gotten a few things accomplished.

I’ve been getting on the treadmill just about every day… at least 4 times a week, anyway. Mostly walking, because I did something crazy to my calf muscle and it’s still a little grumpy, but I’ve been trying to get to and keep a target heart rate (not too high or low) for 20-30 minutes. I haven’t lost weight, but I’ve lost a couple of inches off my waist, and more importantly, I feel better. I wouldn’t complain if the scale started to reflect it. Sleeping is still tricky for me, but I’m trying.

I took Audrey skiing for the first time last weekend, and we’re headed out again Sunday. She LOVES it. And frankly, so do I. Maybe I’ve found my new sport?

I’m not making art as much as I would like, but not giving up on it either. It’s hard to pick it up when you reach the end of the day so tired!

Keep on keeping on…

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Weekend check in.

Ended up caught in a snowstorm yesterday which made my return home from downtown nearly impossible. Roads in Denver were a mess, I-70 was icy and slow, and 285 had been shut down due to a fatality. When I finally got home, Audrey had fallen asleep on the couch after spending the afternoon sledding, and we were trying to get ahold of friends who had invited us over. We were exhausted and stuck at home with a sleeping kiddo. Our friends ended up wandering up to our house, bearing wine, desserts, and a print of one of her sketches in a handmade frame by him as a late holiday/thank you gift. All of this was a complete surprise to us, and we welcomed their company as always. Now, looking at her picture, I feel so grateful to have found such wonderful friends in just a few short months.

We ended up down the hill again today, at the apple store and a couple of other mall places. Ugh. If there is a hell in this universe, I’m pretty sure it looks like a shopping mall. Mission accomplished and I am so grateful that we are all home safe, in our quiet house in the woods where I can see the stars. I seriously think I would never survive the suburbs. Curled up by the fire with my ancient cat, I keep thinking about the good fortune I have had in this life; continue to have daily. Once again, I am reminded of what and who is important in this life, and trying to make note to remember that in all the hectic days. We are all here and safe. We are blessed in so many ways. (Also, my kid is asleep and the house is lovely and quiet!)  🙂  That said, don’t ever forget how lucky you are, and go hug somebody.

Oh, and I made things. Encountered photos of these agate coasters on Pinterest, and they seemed super easy to make (which they are). It could be argued that in this family, we should just spread 6mm plastic over everything to protect the furniture, but coasters are a start. I really like how they turned out.




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Everyone makes the obligatory “resolutions post”. They all seem much the same. But I like setting goals, and I like lists, and I figure that throwing this out to the internet universe may help me to keep them. So, to my friends and family who read my little ramblings, I’m asking you to keep me honest. Help me to create some new habits this year, and I’ll help you to create some of yours. 🙂

My biggest priority this year is to get healthy. Not to confuse this with weight loss, because everyone says they want to lose weight the first of the year. Truth be told, I still weigh about 15-20lbs more than I did before I got pregnant with Audrey, and I would like to lose that weight, but it’s less of a priority than the rest. Some of you know I have been dealing the last couple of years with various cardiovascular nonsense, and after two years I got the green light to put off surgery for a few more years (and I’m hoping indefinitely). I decided to not take beta blockers any longer. My asthma medication and dosage is finally sorted out in such a way that it’s effective and doesn’t seem to be causing heart arrhythmias, and I seem to still be able to control my SVT attacks on my own. (Who knew a few mountaineering trips in my 20’s would be so useful now? Hooray for compression breathing!) Now I just need to work on getting my heart and lungs stronger. I am planning to start running again in earnest, but it will be slow going at the beginning. I figure if I can at the very least climb on the treadmill a few days a week, I will be making progress. That’s a far cry from the running I was doing 5 years ago, but I’ll get back there. It will just take time. Please help me to be patient and stay the course, even when running is the most disheartening thing in the world, and makes me want to cry. There are two other major factors here I need to address: first, I need to sleep. No, really. I want to set and keep a goal of at least 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep every 24 hours. I would love to be one of those people who could sleep for 8 or 9 hours, but to be honest, I’d love to be able to stay in bed for 2. I’m not entirely certain how to obtain this without medication, but I need to figure it out. Secondly, I need to figure out how to not be so stressed. Working on that, too. It’s going to take some serious practice and retraining of old habits to keep from going into the “panic and run away” mode that has been my reaction for most of my life. Again, I’m not certain how to do this. I’m trying all sorts of things. Maybe something will stick? Regardless, I’m open to suggestions.

I want to create at least one thing every week. A painting, an essay or short story, a dumb craft or sewing project that I have been planning to make forever. Whatever. Something. I plan to use this space to blog whatever it is. So, my apologies in advance if you were hoping to avoid cheesy crafts or mediocre attempts at painting with oil. 🙂

There are some other goals for the next year, though they are much more mundane. Pulling the siding and insulating the house, building a greenhouse so we can garden up here, putting in a cut flower bed (deer resistant varieties, please), putting up a swing set for Audrey, securing a true “emergency fund” in an amount I feel could support us for at least 5-6 months (we’re about 80% of the way there), replacing the subfloor in Audrey’s bathroom, sealing the tile throughout the house, teaching my kid to ski and ride horses, and backpacking trips in the summer. I’ll post about those as well.

So there you go. That’s my plan for 2015 in a nutshell. I have decided that there is a certain accountability factor in blogging about it, especially when 90% of my daily interactions are with a four year old. So I guess I’m counting on you to give me feedback and not let me become too much of a hermit on my little hill here or become too busy with the daily minutiae to forget the overarching goals.

<3, me.


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