Big Sky Bound

Halloween used to be about me. It used to be weeks of preparing my costume and then going out on the town to party until the wee hours of the morning. It was always about being goofy, dancing, drinking, eating late-night pizza and then sleeping in the next day….boy, times have changed.

I am the daughter of a 4th grade teacher so crafty is in my genes. I like to make themed Halloween food, carve insane pumpkins, decorate the house with spider webs, paint faces, make costumes, etc. Simply put, I love Halloween.

This year I got so excited about Halloween I made an inexcusable parental mistake – I asked Josie what she wanted to be for Halloween 4 weeks before the big day. She wanted to be the Hulk, so I ran out to Goodwill and grabbed a used one. While we were there, she saw a Cookie Monster costume that she had to have, and we made both purchases for $10. At that moment I felt like I had won Halloween.

After a couple days wearing the Hulk costume everywhere it lost its shine and she was moving on. She PROMISED she wanted to be a Ninja Turtle, specifically Michelangelo, the orange guy. I had been fooled twice, so I toughed it our for 2 weeks of begging and finally caved and bought her a full priced turtle. Josie wore the Ninja Turtle to school and was one of several turtles – but the only girl Michelangelo.

Meanwhile back at home, Josie unearthed last year’s Curious George costume that Grandma Nancy made.  Last year, Josie declared she would not touch it because the fur felt yucky….two-year-olds can be total jerks. Three-year-olds, on the other hand, are cunning opportunists. Two days before Halloween Josie decided that she would actually like to be Curious George so she could crawl everywhere, jump off things, and be naughty but never get in trouble like George. We all got on board and the Ninja Turtle was out the window.

The moral of this story is DO NOT MENTION HALLOWEEN 4 WEEKS EARLY TO A KID. We could have saved $50 and 4 weeks of intense negotiation if I had only known that. On the flip side, watching Josie talk like Cookie Monster, Hulk smash, sing the Ninja Turtles theme song, and monkey around in her costume was pretty cute. Being a parent on Halloween is fun, just a different kind of fun.

We have been busy. So busy that I have neglected to blog in a VERY long time. Maybe this is a blog comeback, or maybe it’s an anomaly and will not happen again for another 3 months…time will tell.

In between work and handling our sometimes sweet, sometime heinous threenager, Matt has been getting back into home improvement projects. We have been working on our kitchen for…uuuh…uumm…years. You ask, why has it taken you years when some people can do it in weeks? Josie is why. For example, as I was trying to hide for 15 minutes to write this blog post Josie ran over to let me know that she had stuck a bead up her nose – a big one – way up there – so far I could not see it. I spent the last 15 minutes helping her blow it out and digging with tweezers to grab the damn thing. ER visit averted for now.

Today we took a family trip up to Arlee for the annual sale at Buckeye Hardwood & Lumber Company. Matt was giddy but promised he would not spend over $100 on odds and ends for his future turning projects (bowls, plates, tops, etc.). He also reminded me that I bought new shoes last night, which is a fair point. While browsing, we found a finishing touch for the kitchen that we did not even know we were looking for – a new counter top that they had been trying to sell for years. Matt practically had a woodgasam looking at the Maple slab, priced to move, and I knew we were not walking out of there without it. I endorsed the purchase because of the screaming deal, but mostly because Maple is the official tree of Vermont.

When we bought our house we had no idea that there were wood counters in the kitchen because they were black with years of dirt and grime – nasty! With a heavy sanding job we (Matt) brought them back to their former glory and we have loved them for 6 years. When we started remodeling the kitchen last year we added an extra cabinet which resulted in the wood top not fitting the bottom. Matt has left 2 pieces of wood counter hanging out unattached for the last year with the promise of someday connecting them. I thought he was being lazy, but it turns out he thought it was going to look like crap to have a big seam down the middle of our counter – good point, it does.

Matt had to cut the new counter way down for installation – I could barely watch. Without sounding too naggy or disrespectful I made sure to tell Matt not to screw it up. After many annoyed eye rolls in my direction, he made perfect cuts.

Mineral oil applied and BAM, project complete!

In other wood related news, A few weekends ago Matt decided to build Josie a desk, bookshelf and window seat. He also was planning to build shelves to the ceiling and I pumped the breaks. Matt is a wood project dreamer who sometimes needs to be brought back to reality. It took much more time that he thought, (see paragraph two for reason) but it looks great.

Our next wood dream sequence is to get new siding, a new front porch, new wood floors and a new laundry room. I better head to the gas station for a lottery ticket.

While I was on vacation in Maine earlier this month I decided to become a runner. This is a big deal for me because I have HATED running my whole life (are there emoticons or punctuation I can add to make HATE stronger?). I could chase a soccer ball for 90 minutes and love every minute of it, but if you asked me to run a mile I would undoubtedly throw a fit and give up. I have never run over 3 miles in my life due to boredom, mental weakness, physical weakness, distraction, procrastination, and a general lack of motivation. Matt on the other hand just ran his first race, the Missoula Marathon in 4 hours. Am I inspired or jealous?

So why did I decide to jump on the insane bandwagon of running? Stupidity and peer pressure.

Matt decided to run the Lobster Fest 10K in Rockland, Maine as his second race so I signed him up for it before we even left Montana. I opted to do the 5K fun-walk because I am a loser and knew I would die running however many miles 10K is. We arrived at the registration table at the race and I started looking around at my 5K cohort – they included baby strollers galore, old people and people in their PJ’s. I made a game day decision to run the 10K, ignoring factors like never having run a race before, a dead iPod, no training, and painful tonsillitis. All I could think was that if these people can run a 10K, I could run that far too! Wait, how far is 10K?

Matt was surprised at this turn of events. His nervous advice, after giving up on trying to talk me out of the race, was to try to have fun, talk to other runners, and go slowly. I was only worried about getting enough water, pooping my pants or dying in a ditch by the side of the road.

When the race started Matt took off and I planted myself firmly at the back of the pack and tried to identify other novice runners to talk to. To my disappointment and annoyance, most runners were plugged into their iPod’s. I ignored that and ran up to people and yelled, “where are you from?!” Most ignored me, but I did meet a couple nice people.

I let an old lady pass me who had a shirt on that read “if you can read this you are behind me and did not train either.” While it was true, I could not let my pride be bruised by letting her be in front of me, so I picked it up a smidge and passed her back.

For all of you runners out there, you might be able to identify with the weird thoughts that were running through my mind several miles down the road – they included but were not limited to:

1. I can’t believe I am being smoked by a 7-year-old
2. I can’t believe I am being dusted by a dude pushing a double stroller with 2 toddlers in it
3. I can’t believe that guy with no shoes on is 4 miles ahead of me
(I should interject here to say that Matt told me not to care who is winning and losing, that it is just about running your own best race. I was unable to abide by his words and could only think competitive thoughts the whole race. Maybe next time Matt) More random running thoughts:
4. I wish I had a hat on and these fancy glasses were not meant for running

5. OMG it’s so damn hot, there is no shade, I am frying, why didn’t I put on sunscreen?
6. ANOTHER HILL?!
7. Maybe I should walk
8. Don’t walk, you will never start running again
9. I am going to catch up to that old lady and beat her
10. I am never going to catch that old lady so I will let her beat me
11. I wonder how I look?
12. I wonder if I will be able to walk tomorrow?
13. I wondering if you can feel armpit chaffing when it is happening?
14. Is the air thicker in Maine?
15. Where…is…the…f’ing…finish line?

And on and on and on it went………..

In the end Matt did not have to retrieve my body from the ditch so that was a win for both of us. I finished in a pathetic/proud 74 minutes. I looked like I peed my pants at the finish line from sweat, so I will be retiring those spandex!

In all seriousness, by the end of the race all I could think about was that two years ago I could not even walk because of a debilitating back injury. I guess I have come pretty far.

Over the next few days I decided to keep up the trend and ran almost every day. I have a completely black toenail to show for it, but Matt says it is a rite of passage into the running world. I even cautiously went to the running store this weekend and bought a running hat and some running socks. Oh my gosh, am I a runner?

As the snow melted this spring, it came to our attention that our backyard was beyond all hope. We decided that the best way to deal with this realization was to abandon the space and move to the front yard for Josie to play. When Josie started letting herself out the front door and walking to the park by MYSELF (as she would say), we decided we needed to take action.

While our yard is the size of a postage stamp – it’s OUR postage stamp and it was time to re-claim the space! I sat out back and drew my plans for our future utopia, which included new French doors coming out of the back of our house, a multi-level deck, flag-stone patio, hot tub and fire-pit. Matt humored my plans for about 8 seconds then brought me down to earth with what the budget and timeline might look like. We settled on a plan for a new brick patio and grass – easy peasy right?

WRONG! I’m sitting on the patio right now suffering from mild PTSD about how it came to be. After a bit of research I decided that this project sounded so easy we could finish it ourselves in a couple of nights after work. After all, the steps to making a patio can be found on websites named “simple DIY brick patio” or “DIY patio in minutes.”

Here is how building a DIY patio might actually look:
1. dig out area and haphazardly throw dirt everywhere so it is impossible to clean up later

2. flatten area
3. add leveling string lines (still not sure why)
4. cheap-out and place a wooden border around the space instead of the recommended plastic
5. pour special paver sand on area

6. level and flatten special sand 770 times with some contraption called a scree-bar
7. scream at your dog to get the F off the special leveled sand

8. place bricks down
9. realize your brick pattern is totally screwed-up and pick them all up

10. repeat steps 6-8
11. realize that you have to somehow cut the bricks at an angle
12. watch several YouTube videos about cutting bricks by hand
13. attempt to score each brick and hammer the line to break with a mason’s chisel
14. miss the mason’s chisel and smash your finger
15. swear and throw each brick that breaks in the wrong place – which is every brick

16. cry
17. realize that you might not have enough bricks for your patio if you keep screwing-up each cut
18. yell at your spouse that he/she is doing something wrong
19. work in defeated silence hauling bricks and sand until the project is done
20. fill with polymeric sand and mist with water and tears of exhaustion

That pretty much sums up our lives from 7-10pm 7 nights in a row. To all those professional stone masons out there – how the hell do you do that every day!? Props.

Once the patio hell was almost behind us, we decided to jump right into a whole new challenge – sod.

The steps for laying sod are similar to laying a patio:
1. rent a sod cutter
2. realize you tossed dirt all over the lawn from your last project and now have to shovel and haul it away before you can start
3. use sod cutter to cut up old grass
4. realize you actually have no living grass in your backyard, it’s more like the Grapes of Wrath dust bowl

5. break sod cutter because it’s a POS and not meant to cut dirt and rocks
6. return broken sod cutter and get a complete refund – score!
7. buy 770 bags of top soil and compost because you have not seen any signs of life in your dust bowl, and load them all in your mini-van
8. dig up whole yard by hand because there is no rototiller to rent in Missoula on a Tuesday at 8 pm
9. hide in the house drinking beer so you don’t have to help anymore
10. add top soil and compost by hand to yard
11. ice your aching back before bed
12. level and spray down the ground
13. Yell at your spouse that they obviously don’t know what level ground looks like
14. abandon project and make your spouse finish it….

I am not proud that I abandoned Matt to get the project done alone, but it was probably for the best. The truth is, if I had continued to help we may have killed each other. Matt bucked up and got the sod rolled out during lunch one day and in return we both lived.

In a rare moment of serendipity, it rained on and off for the next 2 weeks, making our sod very happy. Josie is obsessed with being naked and outside in her yard; our dogs enjoy peeing and pooping all over it; and Matt and I have found a new love for grass and outdoor dining. I guess it was all worth it!

Do I know my kid or what!? It turns out that all my fears of Josie not napping on the floor in the big kid room at school were right on. We are 1.5 weeks into this grand experiment and she has yet to nap. She will lay down on her fancy nap-pad and stare at the ceiling while someone rubs her belly. The second a teacher stops rubbing she jumps up and runs over to a sleeping kid and wakes them up by yelling in their face.

At home she explains: “I wake up Russell today!” “I yell BOO and Wren wake up!” “Lucy NO nap, Josie NO nap!”

Josie with no nap is like a mini whirlwind-tantrum-pile-of-mad-mush-devil by the time she is picked up from school. This is what we are up against every night:

Tomorrow we embark on a new adventure, Josie napping cribless in the big kid room at school. This might not seem like a big deal to most of you, unless you know Josie. Josie + napping has equaled nightmare for 2 years. From day one Josie made it clear that under no circumstance would she succumb to daytime sleep – and she would make our lives Hell if we tried to make her. She also refused to sleep through the night for one painful year….thank the gods of sleep that those days are behind us.

The days that are NOT behind us are the days of naughty napping. I drive like a maniac from work at 5pm every day to get Josie at school. I approach with feelings of excitement to see her and dread for the nap report. Here are the most common reports:

“No nap today and she is feeling a little emotional” (we hear this one 4 days a week)

“Josie and her friend jumped up and down in their cribs singing the wheels on the bus for an hour before we gave up on a nap.”

“Josie took off all her clothes and diaper and wiped poop all over her face and crib and ate some.”

We have received this last disturbing report several times. After making jokes about our little Pablo Poocasso and wondering if we pay our teachers enough, we had to face the facts. Josie is a Houdini who can escape any type of sleep clothing ever made including, but not limited to:

Onesies over pjs
Pinned zipper pjs
Backwards pjs with onesies over them
Duct taped onesies over pinned pjs

We would watch the Houdini escape every night on our video monitor in amazement. What to do? To the internet parents! Without sounding like I am sponsored by this company, we found the Little Keeper Sleeper pjs website that promised frustration for Houdini kids and sleep for parents. A mom with triplet Houdini’s designed these lock-box pjs and I commend her. We are sending her triplets to college with the money we have spent on her pjs, so I guess that is thanks enough. Our successful sleep routine now includes trampoline jumping + standard issue Little Keeper Sleepers.

Tomorrow we are releasing the Kracken on the peaceful nap room filled with slumbering toddlers. I can picture the call around 2pm; “uhh, Josie kept the whole school awake running laps over the kids and singing little bunny foo foo at the top of her lungs.” If you are a parent of one of these kids who will not be sleeping this week, I’m sorry. All I can say is that no sleep sure beats eating poo.

Spring can not come soon enough around here. It has been a long, weird, and sometimes harsh winter in Missoula. The last hurrah was a snow storm in early March that rivaled any I have lived through. It was not the amount of snow as much as the gale force winds that sent everyone inside for cover. The University of Montana was even closed for the first time since the 90’s.

To give you an idea of how much snow we were dealing with, we woke up to our door snowed shut and 7 foot berms on our front lawn while our neighbors had bare ground. Before we called in the National Guard, Matt freed us by taking out the storm door window and throwing himself through it.

The most unfortunate pile of snow we encountered was the 6 foot pile in the backyard that blocked our pathway to the trash cans. The situation stunk, literally. After the dogs spread a bag of trash all over the yard because our noses could not take it in the house anymore, Matt took action and strapped on some snowshoes.

We were all feeling a little cooped up by day 3, so Matt decided to make lemonade out of lemons. As I watched him dig from the kitchen window all I could think was, boys will be boys!

Our north side igloo lasted 2 weeks until Matt decided the structural integrity was sketchy and it needed to be demolished. During those two weeks Josie played in it, our dogs stood on it as a lookout, and Matt and I even has some late night (8pm) drinks by candle-light in it. Winter fun for all…now with that recap capped, come on spring!

Matt and I were talking a few months ago about what Josie might want for her second birthday and I came up with the idea for a play kitchen. Every time we are trying to cook she is up in our business hanging off kitchen cabinets, underfoot, sticking her hands in everything, standing on the counters and sometimes is wielding knives.

I tooled around the internet looking for ideas and saw some ADORABLE DIY play kitchens. This is doable and easy I thought. I took these ideas to Matt and he met them with a combination of excitement and skepticism at how much work this would be. Here is the story…

Two months ago we started by finding an old cabinet at Home Resource for $15, some handles, knobs and a faucet.

Then we ripped off the burners and knobs from the dirty old oven in the basement.

Matt spent many hours in the freezing wood shop during a below zero cold snap constructing, measuring, swearing, and perfecting.

After hours and hours of toiling in the wood shop, the structure was complete and it was time to dig out remnants of old paint from the basement and get painting.

Once we got some paint slathered on, Matt started attaching all the pieces. We used the old backyard dog bowl as the sink – cleaned of course! Glued the burners on and I found and re-painted a little mirror from Goodwill for $2. To some grumbling from Matt, I insisted that he attach the dishwasher and stove top knobs so they could still turn. I have great vision and no skills.

We spent most nights over the last few weeks watching the Olympics and working on the kitchen – what exciting lives we lead! During the day, the kitchen lived in the back hall with the dogs. Josie asked a couple of times, “What that?” and Matt would tell her it was a sheet and she would say “Oh, okay!”

Last night Matt and I made some final adjustments, set everything up and wrapped the darn thing.

This morning was the big reveal! Josie loved it, maybe not as much as the skateboard we are trying to put off getting, but love nonetheless.

The kitchen was used and abused during Josie’s party.

It was obvious from the post-party carnage that the kitchen was a huge success.

Before I got knocked up and popped a baby out, I was told that “baby weight” was not a big deal. All you had to do was breastfeed and walk around the block a few times and any extra pounds packed on by eating multiple cupcakes a day for 9 months would melt away. 21 months post baby, I can tell you that this notion is crap.

Last year I begrudgingly went out and bought new work clothing that would fit my “mom” body. Matt had weaned me off my maternity pants as soon as he thought it was safe to bring up the topic and keep his head. The only thing I had in mind for these purchases was comfort and the attempt to hide any extra curves. Little did I know that this type of frumpy garb can start you on a spiral down, down, down to the land of not caring what you look like.

That land sucks.

Fast forward to two months ago. I dragged out the same box of pre-baby clothing that I dragged out last fall and lo and behold, nothing fit. Regular jeans had become skinny jeans, sweaters were snugger and snow pants were NO pants. How could this be?

With almost a dozen surgeries between us, Matt and I are the present day Mr. and Mrs. Frankenstein. I creak like an old chair when I wake up in the morning and Matt can only give down-low hi-5s from lack of shoulder mobility. I can’t help but think if we are this broken down in our early 30s, what are we going to look like in our 60s!?

That brings me to the crumbling point – a kitchen chair crumbled under Matt when he sat in it. We laughed, made jokes, then joined a gym. Dragging our butts to the gym the last 2 months has been both challenging and rewarding. Inevitably some body part is killing one of us everyday. Today Matt could barely lift a spoon to his mouth at breakfast, and last week my legs were so wrecked I had to crawl on my hands and knees up the stairs. These aches and pains are a good thing for a change, they show progress toward healthier (hotter) parents.

We are not measuring our success Biggest Loser style on the scale, but in days, weeks and years we know we are adding on to our lives with Josephine (unless she gives us a heart attack). Now THAT’S worth sweating for!