Murray's Momma

Four Is Not Fun At Four A.M.

2012-01-27T14:32:00.002-06:00

NOTE: Edited for the hog/hug mistake. I'm sure there are more typos, but please, overlook them. I'm certainly not a winner at writing. I just love it.

Most of the time, I'm the parent with the most patience. Having patience also makes me the parent most likely to give in. We try to raise him with a firm hand, and I feel like we're doing a pretty good job.

Sometimes.

No one told me that child rearing a four year old would prove more challenging than a fussy newborn, or a curious toddler, or an inquisitive three year old. The minute Murray turned four is the minute he turned naughty. Exasperatingly naughty. Whiny, demanding, bossy, demanding, whiny...I think you get the picture. Oh., and this 'silly' phase is for the birds. C'mon Mur, you're cute enough the way it is, no need to put on your goofy hat.

I've spent a lot of time on the phone with G.K. for parenting advice.

Sometimes, I find it easier to give in to just "one more snack" instead of listening to wails of "but, I'm SO hungry, Mom!" Then there are the crocodile tears that he seems to be able to turn on at the drop of a hat. The kid could win an Oscar. I think he's the next Dakota Fanning. Hmmm....maybe I should look into that?

This morning, at 4:00 a.m., I woke to said child yelling from his room. "Mom, Dad! I'm awake! Can I sleep in your room?" Craig replies that yes, he may, but on his crib mattress on the floor and not in our bed.

Murray skips across the hall (who skips at 4:00 a.m.?) blanket in hand and lies down. Thirty seconds later: "Mom, I'm cowwed (cold)!" We groggily explained that if he wants to sleep in our room, he would have to bring in his pillows and more bedding by himself. BIG sigh from Murray. He stomps - so much for the skipping - to his room after a litany of complaints and returns with a flimsy blanket.

"Mom, I need my wittwah (little) bear and a hithow (pillow)." Again, he needs to get those himself, I explain. "WAAAA!!! BUT I WANT YOU TO GET IT!"

This is where I give in. FINE. Now I'm acting like the four year old; stomping into his room to retrieve the darn bear and a pillow. I finally get back into bed and I hear a whine, "Mom, you forgot my Pooh, and my dowphin, and my car, and my bobber, and moose."

You've GOT to be kidding me, I'm thinking. I haul myself out of my nice warm bed, and off I go again. I grabbed pretty much everything in his entire room and dumped it on the floor next to him. I snuggle him back in, then myself, and think, finally, some sleep.

"Mom, he whispers. Can I have a drink of wadder?" So, I grab my water mug, hand it to him, he drinks, and I hiss, "I don't want to hear another word from you until morning." Craig rolls over, looks at me and says, "Marie, that was kind of mean."

So, I burst into tears, apologize to Murray profusely, give him a big hug, and try to explain that Mama is just really tired and we all need some sleep.

I felt terrible. And guilty. And terrible. Soon, all three males in the house are snoring, while I was wide awake. I sighed, grabbed my book and settled on the couch for a good read.

At seven, when the house began to stir, Murray buried his head under the covers, asked me to turn the light off, and demanded the he sleep longer. Go figure.

It's time for Mama to take back control.

He Knows, She Knows

2012-01-22T19:45:00.004-06:00

Note: Blogger must be having trouble. Excuse the confusion.

After seven years of marriage, Craig and I seem to have each other's habits and preferences down pretty well. For instance:

He knows that margarine is not allowed in this house. Butter only.
I know it drives him crazy when I don't refill the ice cube trays.

He knows that dog poop makes me vomit.
I know that vomit makes him vomit.

I know that he hates it when I leave my reading light on at night.
He knows that I have a love/hate relationship with his snoring.

He knows that 'Roseanne' is one of my favorite TV shows.
I know he hates 'Roseanne'.

He knows I hate mayo and milk.
I know that he loves smoked oysters (those disgusting ones from a can).

I know that he is seriously in love with Kate Beckinsale.

Photo Credit: http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=Kate+Beckinsale&view=detail&id=1214527B734CC10C1008E3762EA3FF99A3AE4436&first=0

He knows that I would run away with Jon Bon Jovi.

Photo credit: http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=jon+bon+jovi&view=detail&id=CF8876F0C7DD13739710088FA00EFF91096D2DBC&first=0

I know how proud I am of his hockey/skating abilities.

He knows how funny it is to try to watch me skate backwards.

He knows how to make me laugh.
I know how to make him mad.

We're still learning about one another, in fact, every day comes with surprises.

I wouldn't trade him for anything.

Grandpa Doug

2012-01-15T20:56:00.001-06:00

I can't breathe. I'm laughing too hard. Murray + Grandpa Doug (my Dad) = HILARIOUS.

When my Dad arrived last night, Murray was beside himself. After they hugged furiously, the first words out of Murray's mouth were, "Grandpa, how many sleeps are you here for?"

This morning, the second Murray woke up, he exclaimed, "Dad, Mom, I'm going to wake up Grandpa, but you can go back to sleep."

These two have packed more adventures into 24 hours than I could in a week.

There was the breakfast date. The two of them walked to McDonald's, ate 'pamcakes' and sausage and walked home.

We went skating and Grandpa Doug pretended to fall down every time Murray fell.

We celebrated Christmas (a bit late, but hey, at least we were together).

Now, the two are eating 'copporn' (popcorn) and watching a movie, while snuggling on the couch. Murray keeps asking his Grandpa to say the word 'poop' - oh happy day - and he just finished explaining to my Dad that if Rudy finds another rabbit in the yard, he'll play with it too hard and it will have to go to heaven.

Good grief. What will tomorrow bring?

What A Husband Will Do To Make His Wife Stop Crying

2012-01-11T21:11:00.001-06:00

When I was growing up, I had a blanket that my mom embroidered for me while she was pregnant. I kept it until I was at least 24 years old. Mom finally (but gently) reminded me that it was probably time to let it go. After all, I was about to become a wife.

I'll never forget how pretty it was. She had hand-stitched four quilt blocks and sewn them into a soft, fuzzy, yellow fabric.

Before Mom got sick, she taught me to embroider. I was pregnant with Murray, and I wanted him to have a blanket that he cherished and loved as much as the one I had. Mom's embroidery wasn't fancy; just simple, beautiful stitches. When we found out that she had cancer, I would sit next to her at the hospital or at home, and work on quilt squares for my own little one. Those little tiny stitches even helped my when I was at home and worried sick about Mom, and couldn't have wine - oh the horror - because I was expecting.

I never did finish the quilt (I can't sew, so our deal was that if I finished the stitching, she would put it together for me). After she died, the idea of completing the project was just too much. So I packed it all away, with the promise that someday, I would go back to it. I didn't realize it would take me this long. Today, I unearthed those pieces with the idea that I'd finish them for my the next addition to our family. I want to get that last square done so that my niece, who will arrive in April, will have a blanket that she loves as much as I loved mine.

I tried all day to get the stitching just right, the way Mom showed me. But I couldn't. I Googled it, I I tried the 'over under' approach, and I attempted a back stitch (I don't even know what the heck that is).

Look at this: Can you tell the difference between then and now? Even back then, my embroidery wasn't great, but it was a heck of a lot better than it is today.

Anyway.

When Craig came home from work today, he found me with a pile of embroidery floss and needles, drowning in tears. I wanted my Mom. She would have been able to help me.

Craig gently pulled the hoop from my hands, sat in his chair, and worked on my failed stitching until he figured out my mistakes. He didn't get it perfect, but he got me back on track. As I was weeping for my Mom, I was giggling. I don't know very many men who would work on a sewing project just to stop his wife from being sad. What a guy.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I married well.

Driving Mr. Murray

2012-01-06T16:11:00.000-06:00

Riding in the car with Murray is always an adventure in conversation. You just never know what will pop out of his mouth. For example, today's 7-minute trip went something like this:

"Mom, you picked me up early? Why? Mom, why is it cloudy? It's not too windy for me. Hey Mom! I sure love Rudy. Mom, who's in that car next to us? Mom, I made a snowman puppet today. Mom, the cops are nice, right? Mom? I know how many more sleeps until we go to the cities with dad. Mommy, why didn't I get a snack at Linsay's house today? Mom, are you driving the speed limit? Mom, Gordon is the fastest engine on Sodor! Mom, I didn't tell the secret to anyone! Oh, Mom? Will you help me set up my sticky trains when we get home?" Mom, why do you love me? Mom, what are we having for dinner? Mom, guess what? Well...I forgot. Mom, how did I eat all the pudding? I know, let's have homemade mac & cheese for supper! Okay, Mom? Will you make me that please? Mom, I didn't share my Hero because my other friends have their own trains."

Who needs talk radio when you have a Murray?

Bah, Resolutions

2012-01-04T11:49:00.000-06:00

I've never been one to get excited about a new year. Resolutions? Not for me. Too much pressure. For example: Lose 40 pounds. Go to church more often. Be a kind person. Get organized. Volunteer.

Etcetera.

All of the above are great things to resolve to do, achieve, accomplish. But I find that my New Year's resolutions tend to last for a few days and then are cast aside like a used tissue.

So, instead of ringing in the new year with promises to myself and others, I strive to be a better person each and every day. I really do. There are days when I resolve to do something simple, like smile at a passerby; when in reality, I feel like growling. Or maybe I'll send DH a short email reminding him that I love him, even if we're arguing. Or, I'll give Rudy some extra TLC, despite the fact that he just had a rabbit for breakfast, and I'm not happy with him.

Then, there are the bigger resolutions: Go for a walk. Reach out to a friend. Take more time to sit with Murray and play a game, read a book, or sing a song. Stop talking so much and listen. Slow down. Help someone in need. Spend more time praying. Be kind. Stop worrying about what everyone else thinks and enjoy life.

I'm not perfect. I don't want to be. My "everyday resolutions" often fail. I'm a work in progress. Aren't we all?

First Snow

2011-12-30T11:46:00.002-06:00

The first "real" snow of the season. Yuck.

Murray loves it:

Christmas isn't Christmas without a red bow on our Rudy:

An Honest Look

2011-12-29T17:34:00.001-06:00

I'm back. It's been awhile. Thank you for waiting.

Depression has reared it's ugly head again. So many things piled up. Imagine a grassy hill. In the summer it's green and lush, but in winter, it's covered with snow. Depression for me (because it's different for everyone) is like when a snow plow keeps adding that snow to the hill until the pile is huge. Does that make sense?

Oh, poor me. I should pick myself up, dust myself off, and get on with it.  Believe me, I'm trying, and hard. I have so many things to be grateful for. I do, I really do.

But, depression doesn't work that way. It's not that easy. Depression is sneaky, and mean, and horrible. It's real. Trust me, it's real.

I'm a pretty good pretender, so I've been hiding under the covers (literally and figuratively) and living life as though I feel grand. Today I was having a happy visit with a dear friend, and I'm not sure how it happened, but I had a complete melt down. I cried about so many things. Said friend, being the beautiful person she is, talked me through it and calmed me down. I wish I had the words to explain how debilitating depression is. But I don't, so I won't try.

I know the evil depression lies within me. I have months when I'm feeling normal, and stints when I'm feeling terrible. Knowing how to deal with depression is half the battle. Exercise and eating well are on the top of my "depression war" list.  Prayer especially, helps.

My prayers are usually sent internally. I don't voice them, but I do pray. Today, on my daily walk with Rudy, I prayed aloud. I walked, and I prayed, and I cried. It felt so good to voice my prayers and blessings.

I know I'll be okay. I have lots of family support, and God to see me through. Other people have a hundred other problems. I don't mean to pull the "woe is me card and my life is so terrible" card, because it's really not. I have the BEST life.

My intention for writing this is to reach out to someone else who might be struggling with depression.
It's time to get real and be honest. Because it stinks. It just plain stinks.

Christmas Cookies

2011-12-22T12:03:00.000-06:00

I love to cook. I ~~hate~~ can't bake. Too much science and exact measurements are required for baking. So when my SIL (sister-in-law, Randi) called last week, asking if we wanted to get together to help the boys decorate cookies, I cringed. It turned out that a quick run to the grocery store and some pre-packaged dough was what she had in mind. We think alike. Another reason why I love her.

So, we popped the pre-made cookies in the oven, and assembled our decorating materials. Let the decorating commence!

While we were busy in the kitchen, the boys were squirting frosting (because fake frosting and fake cookies are how we roll) and dumping sprinkles. When we went to check on them, this is what we found:

Notice that the cookies that aren't on the tray each have a bite in them. Murray claimed that he was checking to make sure that they tasted okay.

Merry Christmas!

A Letter to Santa

2011-12-13T11:50:00.002-06:00

I have recently received several verbal comments that my blog is too sad to read. I have no idea why this bothers me, but I can't seem to brush it off. I admit, Murray's Momma is often peppered with topics that are serious, sad, or sometimes even depressing. I don't like to hide from the tough stuff, and frankly, I'm just not that funny.

But guess what? I will continue to write what I feel, and I sincerely hope that you'll stick with me. I'm not ALWAYS that depressing, am I?

Don't answer that.

In an effort to lighten things up, the following is the letter to Santa that Murray composed last night. He dictated, I wrote. I did edit it just a tish, because he tends to ramble, and I didn't have the energy to hand write a novel.

Dear Santa,

I have been good but Owen has been bad so he goes on the bad list. You should call his mom and Linsay and tell them that Owen didn't help clean up so he is bad. I have been VERY good so can I have some cars, train tracks and a helicopter?

My mom would like a rockstot (a 12 qt. stock pot), a processer for food (food processor) and she wants new jammies. So could you bring those for her?

Oh, and can you bring Legos so I can build whatever I want? I will leave you milk and cookies and some carrots for the deer, but I don't how you will feed them.
Love,
Murray (picture a 4-year old version of the letter "M")

Note: Notice that DH wasn't included in the letter? I'm assuming Santa won't be delivering presents with Craig's name on them.

Merry Christmas!

Nala and Murray

2011-12-07T22:24:00.000-06:00

Goodbye, sweet girl. You were loved, and now you are missed.

Sweet Nala

2011-12-06T22:37:00.001-06:00

Update: Nala passed away this morning. Good bye, sweet girl.

I love dogs. I love animals. I always will. Our golden retriever, Nala, is the one with her head in my lap. She's very old, and very sick.

Sadly, she's dying. Slowly, but surely. She can hardly walk; and if she does, she walks sideways (her right side doesn't sync with the left side), she suffers from bouts of confusion, where she'll stand in the middle of the room or yard and stare at nothing. She's also incontinent. She needs to be carried up and down a flight of four stairs and looks just plain miserable. I LOVE her. But, I can't stand to see her in this much pain. It's breaking my heart. Why haven't we put her down? There are several reasons.

We realized that her health was declining when she no longer stood in the yard and barked, nor did she chase a ball, or even care about treats, her favorite motivator.

The day after Thanksgiving, she had her annual check-up. I was certain that Craig was going to call and tell me that Nala wasn't coming home. Surprisingly, our vet declared her "very healthy for her age." Three days later, she deteriorated rapidly. Now, she doesn't move, she doesn't drink water, and she will only eat canned Iams. That's on a good day, when we can coax her to eat. This, from a dog that once ate a 20 lb. bag of dog food by herself.

Craig has cared for Nala since she was six weeks old. They've been through a lot. I can't tell him what to do, because if I were in the same situation with Rudy, I would appreciate the same respect.

I don't want to sound cold-hearted, but I feel like it's inhumane to keep her with us. She's obviously suffering. No matter what we try to keep her comfortable, we fail.

Some say, she's "just a dog", but to us, she's one of our best friends.

It's time; it won't be long now until she isn't with us anymore. As hard as it will be, it's really time. I'm so sad. She will be missed.

Tomorrow morning, I will take her to her vet. Again. I just can't stand to see her in pain, and DH just doesn't have the heart to do it himself. Good night, sweet Nala. You've been a joy.

-MM

SLOW...DOWN

2011-12-03T22:18:00.000-06:00

A wise woman once told me to slow down. It's taken me years to figure out what she meant.

I think I get it now, though to stop being in a hurry is easier said than done when you have a personality like I do.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not running around with my head cut off making sure our house is perfect (it's far from perfect), or sprinting back and forth checking laundry and fluffing pillows.

Although, I do have my moments.

For instance, give me a task and you'll never regret it. When I'm in the mood or challenged, I won't disappoint. If I feel like cooking, I'll go nuts in the kitchen. If I feel like cleaning, everything from the baseboards to the tops of the windowsills will be scrubbed. If I feel like doing laundry, I won't stop until every single article of clothing and linen is fresh, folded and in it's proper place. The dog needs a walk? We'll be back after five miles. Murray wants to do a project? Never fear: I have an arsenal of art supplies and ideas.

But, this only happens when I'm in the mood. I can be extremely organized, but I can also be extremely lazy. I find that the more organized I am, the more I'm allowed to be lazy. Quite the catch-22, don't you think?

Let's get back to the wise woman who reminds me to slow down. My Grandma. I've found that following her advice makes me enjoy whatever I happen to be working at, even if it's not a task that thrills me. Because, when I slow down and take my time, I have pride in whatever it is I accomplish. And, if I take my time, well, you can imagine that things turn out quite a bit better than if I were in a hurry. Slowing down takes a ton of practice (I even am trying to slow down my rate of speech), but each time I remind myself to take a deep breath and relax, I find so much more pleasure in accomplishing my goals.

I love you, G.K.

-MM

Let's Be Honest - Parenting Faux Pas

2011-11-29T19:35:00.000-06:00

Have you ever had that parenting moment when you lost your cool? I don't mean physically, of course. I mean, that moment when you lost your patience and yelled at your child; words you wish you could take back?

I have to admit, I'm guilty.

We were on night six of Murray either a) refusing to go to sleep or b) climbing into our bed in the middle of the night. We were sleep deprived and our kidneys were aching from being kicked by a four year old all night.

So much for our "no sleeping in our bed" policy. At 3 a.m., we just don't have the patience to fight it out.

Anyway.

Early one morning (very early, think 2 a.m.), I had moved Murray's mattress twice, carried ancient Nala down the stairs to go outside, carried her back up the stairs, and put Rudy out and back in. At last, I thought I would finally have a few precious hours of sleep. But, as I was finally drifting off, I heard: "Mama, I don't want to sleep here."

Oh, good grief.

I wanted to scream, "Go the blankity blank blank to sleep!" (oh, I love you Samuel L. Jackson), but I restrained myself. Instead, I muttered, "If you don't go to bed RIGHT NOW, I will call Santa and ask him not to come here on Christmas!"

Thankfully, Murray didn't hear me, but still, I really hated myself at that moment. I am the absolute meanest Mommy in the universe.

After that, I didn't sleep either.

A Few Things

2011-11-18T14:32:00.000-06:00

If you haven't noticed, I've been experimenting with background, font, and layouts with my blog. I'm getting ready for my big debut on my own domain. It's more complicated than I thought it would be...but the IT experts assured me that it would be worth it. You can still find me here until I figure all of this out.

On another note, thank you so very much to those of you who have donated items to St. Gianna's maternity home. I know how much your gifts will be appreciated. I will be accepting donations until December 15th, and will ship donations boxes on December 16. Hopefully, we can touch a whole lot of kids and mommies who so desperately need help. Still needed are bathrobes (for the expectant mothers), aluminum foil, baggies, cleaning supplies, toilet paper, stamps, and gift cards (for groceries, supplies, etc). Please consider helping these local women and children. You can read more about St. Gianna's here.

Murray and I had our monthly 'date day' today. Our special time together always includes breakfast out, a bit of shopping, lots of game playing, movies, books, puzzles, hot chocolate, popcorn and tons of snuggles. He exhausts me, but it's so worth it. These days are my favorite...I will cherish them forever. I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that as much as I love these days, I still look forward to nap time. Which I'm off to now. Because after that, it's time to play in the snow.

Yawn.

Four Years Old

2011-11-14T09:07:00.002-06:00

Note: I purposely did not show the faces of Murray's party guests, so as not to exploit children who aren't my own. :)

Also, following is the addendum to this post. I apologize for the delay.

When you were three, you loved to snuggle up with me and whisper secrets in my ear.

Not that you're four, you think it's great fun to give wet willies instead of whispering how much you love me.

When you were three, you loved to take a bath.
Now that you're four, you think baths are for babies and you prefer showers.

When you were three, Curious George made you laugh.
Now that you're four, you think tooting and smelly feet are hysterical. When you pass gass, you say, "Excuse me, a duck flew by." At least you say excuse me.

When you were three, we could answer your questions (kind of).
Now that you're four, you have us scratching our heads, searching for an answer that will suit you.

When you were three, you learned to count.
Now that you're four, you can do simple math. Yesterday you did 4-2=2 all by yourself. You are just like your Dad; you certainly didn't get the mathematical/analytical gene from me.

When you were three, you slept in your own room.
Not that you're four, you insist on sleeping on the floor in our room. You are so not sleeping in our bed. Unless you're sick.

When you were three, you weren't quite as independent.
Now that you're four, you play on your own more than you play with your Dad and me.

When you were three, your manners were impeccable.
Now that you're four, your're bossy and need to be reminded of good manners.
But, now that you're four, your Dad and I still think you are awesome. We love you, and always will.

But since your're four now, could you please remember to flush the toilet?

Happy 4th Birthday, Murray!

Pony rides - introducing Izzy and Sari (Izzy is the pony)

Cake

Battery Operated cars

Photo credit: Troy (a.k.a. J.P. #2)

Special thanks to our friends and family who spent the afternoon with us. Also, thanks to Dakota Carriage Company for bringing sweet Izzy to our home.

St. Gianna's Maternity Home

2011-11-07T23:14:00.002-06:00

Saint Gianna Beretta Molla was canonized in 1962 by Pope John Paul II. She was a loving mother of four, who gave her life to save her youngest child. She was diagnosed with a painful tumor while pregnant. Had she endured the surgery necessary to save her life, her baby would have died.

From St: . Gianna, "I renew the offering of my life to the Lord. I am ready for anything as long as my baby is saved."

The ultimate sacrifice.

Read more about St. Gianna here. And here.

Stay with me please, I do have a purpose.

Years ago, my late Mom was transferred (for work) to a small town in northern ND. I visited her often, and my route from Moorhead, MN to Grafton, ND, led me through the tiny town of Warsaw, ND. While driving through Warsaw, I always admired the Catholic Church of Stainslaus.

Each time I traveled through Warsaw, I couldn't help but notice a vacant brick building directly across the street from the church.

Here it is:

Several years ago, Mom related to me that this building was being converted into a maternity home for pregnant women and teens in crisis.

St. Gianni's Maternity Home opened in 2003. Since then, they have helped many pregnant women in crisis. My Mom and I were both in awe at the generosity of the sisters and staff who opened this amazing place.

Recently, I felt the urge to do something to help the families that turn to St. Gianna's, so I decided to start a fundraiser. I realize that we're in a time of economic crisis, but really, even $2 would help.

Some suggestions, according to the website: Cleaning products, stamps (for postage), household items (i.e. toilet paper, plastic baggies (any size), paper towels, paper plates, etc..

That said, I would really like to be able to send these moms, babies, children, and staff a few gifts for Christmas. It could be gift cards, a gently used toy, gently used clothing, pesonal items, or anything else you can think of. Anything would be appreciated.

Please contact me with questions or comments. I would love to hear from you. You can find me at marie.beckerleg@gmail.com or 218-329-2268.

A picture of a room for a babe and his/her Mom:

Real World Parenting

2011-11-05T11:31:00.001-05:00

Note: The following clip contains foul language.

I don't use swear words very often, except for the occasional "dammit". If the chardonnay is flowing, well, that's a different story. But sometimes, there are moments in life when saying a bad word just makes you feel better.

My girlfriend sent the following to me. DH and I laughed uncontrollably. In fact, we're still giggling.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dU5Mi0QQPMc&feature=share&fb_source=message

Do you ever feel like this?

If You Were Still Here

2011-11-03T10:28:00.001-05:00

Dear Mom,

If you were still here, you'd have called me at 6:00 a.m. this morning, and told me to have a good day. Later, I would've called you in the middle of the afternoon, needing advice, and then, of course, I would've called you on my way home from work, just to hear your voice.

If you were still here, you would lock up more 'bad guys'. I watched "Cops" last night, and cried through the entire show because it reminded me of you. For such a small woman, you sure did intimidate some hard asses.

If you were still here, you and I would be in the kitchen together cooking and tipping back a few Keystones.

If you were still here, Rudy would be outside playing with Bubba and we'd be giggling at his antics. I can still see us lying in our lawn chairs, soaking up the sun and talking about anything and everything.

If you were still here, your gentle manner and wisdom would calm me in a way that no other person can.

If you were still here, I would have enjoyed your garden vegetables. You sort of had your own farmer's market.

If you were still here, you'd be freezing in this weather. You always loved the sunshine and warm weather. Me too.

If you were still here, you would snuggle up with Murray and teach him all about the world. He saw me crying this morning and burst into "Twinkle Twinkle". He also knows the words to "You Are My Sunshine" - you would've loved that. I'll never forget when you sang to me. I loved it (even though you were never able to carry a tune in a bucket).

If you were still here, you would say, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Look around and find something, anything, to be happy about.

And Mom? One more thing: If you were still here, I wouldn't miss you so damn much.

Be at peace, Mom. You're with me in spirit.

I Wasn't Ready For This

2011-10-25T21:41:00.003-05:00

Note: I had to keep editing this post due to Murray's antics.

I wasn't ready for the "TALK."

It finally happened. The day I was dreading.

Thank goodness I remembered the "birds and bees" discussion that my Mom had with me when I was four.

I was excited to tell Murray that my Dad's Gordon Setter, Madelyn, had her puppies tonight. This news brought on a slew of questions from little guy.

"How do the puppies get in Maddie's tummy?"

"How do they get out of her tummy?"

"But, MOM, how did they get in there?"

"How did I get in you to be born?"

Oh good grief. I thought I could explain that God works miracles, and that Murray would accept this as a perfect answer.

Not so much.

So I launched into an explanation about how there are seeds and eggs, and they meet each other, and then a baby grows.

Wouldn't you think that this explanation would be satisfying to an almost-four year old? I thought that it would.

It wasn't. Not at all.

Insert DH snorting here, trying not to laugh. We're trying to be serious because body parts are normal.

Murray said, "But how do the seeds and the eggs meet? Okay, now I'm trying to hide my own laughter.

So DH says, "Well, it's like a puzzle."

Huh? Again, good grief.

"Well, I said, when a Mom and a Dad love each other and are husband and wife, they share the eggs and the seeds to make a baby, and it grows in the Mom's tummy."

"But how does it get out?"

HELP HERE!!!!!! (Now DH is really snorting and laughing hysterically and I'm completely baffled).

"Well, it comes out of the Mom's vagina and the doctor helps."

"But, MOM, that's NOT what I was talking about. I mean, HOW DOES THE SEED GET TO THE EGGS?" (Insert Craig giggling again and me throwing my hands in the air).

"Because God said so."

It's Craig's turn next.

Date Day with Murray

2011-10-18T21:28:00.000-05:00

Murray and I had the best day today. We had a "date day"; we spent the entire day together. In no particular order:

1. We slept in.
2. We watched Curious George and ate breakfast sandwiches.
3. We had a photo session at the park with Jennifer. Lots of giggling.
4. We stocked up on art supplies.
5. We shared hot chocolate.
6. We worked on many "masterpieces".
7. We took a nap together.
8. We played several games of Memory and Candy Land.
9. We set up his castle and ate homemade macaroni and cheese while we giggled some more.
10. We spent time with Aunt Maggie.
11. We sang songs and danced and read books.

Whew! I'm exhausted. Today was one of those days that you just know you'll never forget.

Our house is covered in finger paint and glitter glue, the dishes didn't get washed, and the laundry was ignored. But you know, I just don't care. When Murray woke up from his nap, snuggled in tight with me and said, "Mama, thanks SO much for staying with me today, I love you.", I realized that a dirty house is a happy home.

One more thing to remember: When you're drinking cranberry juice and letting your child paint at the same time, be sure to keep the water glass separate from your juice. If you don't, you might accidentally drink the paint water instead of your juice and throw up. Not that this has ever happened to me; I was just thinking about how gross that would be.

-MM

The Wild West

2011-10-16T19:56:00.000-05:00

We spent the weekend in western North Dakota with my Dad (a.k.a. Grandpa Doug). He's lived in the town of Flasher, ND for almost 15 years. I graduated high school there - Go Bulldogs - and have a million or so memories of this amazing little town west of the Missouri.

We always have a great time when we visit my Dad, and this trip was certainly no exception. We played with his horse, took drives through the beautiful country, caught a few fish and exchanged lots of tall tales.

I want to tell you about Antelope Hills Lodge, the 1910 hotel that my Dad lives adjacent to and is helping restore. But I'm beat, so I'll leave you with a teaser: click here for a glimpse of Antelope Hills Lodge. The hotel really deserves it's own post, it's that amazing, plus, I have a ton of pictures to share. You don't find a place like this very often. Stay tuned.

Now that my tummy is filled with homemade knoephla soup, fresh pheasant, and the absolute best breakfast (literally, I'm still craving it) that I've ever eaten - check out My Place Bar and Grill off Highway 21 if you visit - I think I'll tuck in to watch the Vikings. I leave with a few pictures of our adventures:

Rinsing the last crop of potatoes.

Out cold after a busy day with Grandpa Doug.

Murray did all the work on this one. He cast and reeled in a four pound northern pike. If you can't tell, we're literally in the middle of a horse pasture. We even had to climb through a barb wire fence to get to the water. Note his Spider Man fishing pole on the ground.

We almost caught our limit, rather, Murray almost caught our limit.

Flasher, we'll be back soon. You can't stop us.

I'm a Foodie

2011-10-12T15:31:00.001-05:00

Note: My host site went a bit crazy, so I've done a bit of editing.
If you've been following me on facebook, you'll know that I've turned into a new-age Betty Crocker-type recently. I have no idea what's come over me, but it is what it is. I just can't stop cooking.

It all started with canning tomatoes. I had so much fun and was so impressed with the results, that I decided to buy a pressure canner and try my hand at soup. Turned out beautifully - Autumn soup and cheeseburger soup (and more canning tomatoes). Because, who doesn't love soup?

Two weeks ago, I made strawberry frozen dessert (even with homemade whipped cream) and Craig used my homemade salsa in a cheese dip. Oh, and I cooked the original party (Chex) mix.

Next up, I baked a cheese souffle that was out of this world. Even though it wasn't something that Chef Ramsey would call perfection, it turned out way better than I thought it would.

Today I made a double batch of chili and a double batch of good old-fashioned tuna noodle casserole. I plan to keep a serving of each and freeze the rest in individual containers.

Baking, now that's another story. Even DH won't eat my rock hard brownies. I give him the baking credit; it doesn't matter how hard I try, I fail miserably at baking. Even if it comes from a box. Craig also has several dishes (his mashed potatoes rival the Top Chef, and he has mad grilling skills - charcoal only for him) that he prepares perfectly. Sometimes, we even argue over who's going to be in the kitchen. Only, I clean up the kitchen better than he does.

Even Murray has the cooking bug. He LOVES to help.

On the bright side, I have our freezer and pantry stocked, and there will be more coming. I'm thinking more Autumn soup, a wild rice casserole, and Swedish meatballs are next on the menu. And maybe an apple pie. We're all about putting on winter weight.

Tomorrow night, we're having pork ribs, asparagus and brown rice.
.
I love food. You're welcome to join us.

Attack of the Pony

2011-10-09T14:46:00.002-05:00

Murray and Mariana

Don't they make a great couple?

We spent a lovely afternoon at a local pumpkin patch yesterday with our friend Kristine, and her daughter, Mariana. It was by far the best patch we've visited. The kids had a blast with the many activities that the farm had to offer.

As you know, I love, love, love animals, so when I learned that they had a small petting zoo, I was more excited than the three year olds. The baby goats were great fun, the cow kind of boring, the big horned sheep precious. Next up, I visited the miniature horse.

I was gently petting this seemingly sweet guy when he started to nibble on my arm. He got a bit agressive, so I turned around and attempted to walk away. The darn creature put his hooves on the top of the fence and attacked. I swear he was trying to eat me. He bit me so hard that my skin was punctured.

Despite the fact that I can't sleep on my right side and my back is a swollen rainbow of colors, I find the whole incident pretty hilarious. Really, who gets attacked by a petting zoo pony? Clearly, I do.

This is what I felt like doing after the bite:

Whinny. Giddy up. Let the horse jokes begin.

Photo credit: Kristine

The Latest

2011-10-01T23:42:00.004-05:00

Note: Edited. Please excuse the puncuation. I'm still "yearning".

It's that time again, when I post some of my favorite conversations and "Murrayisms" that our dear boy has blessed us with.

Someday, I hope he'll get a kick out of these posts. Or maybe, this will completely humiliate him and that will lead him to never having friends, and never finding his one true love, and then he'll have a complex and it will be all my fault.

Anyway. That's not going to happen for another 30 years, at least.

Overheard at bed time: "Dad, are you wearing underwear?" "Yes, Murray, I am. Why?" Craig replies. "Because wearing underwear makes you healthy and strong and so we should always wear them."

"Mama, how did the frog get in your froat?" I tend to forget that he takes everything literally.

"Mom, I'm yearning!" Learning, yes, yearning, no. And we should probably work on those "L" sounds.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit." Whoops, that would be my fault. Could be worse, I guess.

While playing hide and seek: "Mama, I'm going to take my shoes off so that I can hide in your bed." Where, oh where, could he be?

"Mama, I have a good idea! Let's go to Target and get a disco ball, they show rainbows! Good idea, right, mama?" What the heck? When questioned, he claimed that he heard about the disco ball on Curious George.

While cooking: "Mom, I'm taking five."" Where did that come from?

"Hey Mom! Whet's go outside and pway. We could walk around the bwock, right?" Sure we can. Let's keep working on those "L's".

"How can you get mad at this face?" Thanks, dear cousin Kevin, for that one. He uses this phrase every time he gets in trouble and it's impossible not to laugh.

Scene: bedtime. Tucking Murray in. Murray: "Mama, I don't want you to be a teacher." But why not?, I asked. Murray: 'Cuz I want you to be my mommy."

Thanks for being you and "yearning" so much. Know you are loved, sweetheart, "L's" or not.

-MM

I WON!

2011-09-28T15:04:00.002-05:00

One of my favorite bloggers, Crazy Aunt Purl, recently held a contest, and I WON! Check out CAP's blog at http://www.crazyauntpurl.com/. You'll love her.

-MM

Help Me Help You

2011-09-27T18:19:00.000-05:00

Murray is at that stage where he wants to help. And I mean help with Every. Little. Thing. Craig and I encourage experimentation and feel that we might as well take advantage of this phase.

Yeah, right. Dumb idea.

For instance, on Sunday, I went a little nuts and decided to spend the day in the kitchen preparing for winter hibernation (i.e. canning). Murray was ever so helpful; mixing, pouring, and ~~getting in my way~~ "washing" the dishes. What would have taken me a few hours turned into an all day event.

That's only the beginning. It took Craig and Murray over 45 minutes to vacuum and mop the floors yesterday. And he did such a great job with our paper mache volcano project that it took a week in the sun to dry out. He helped water the plants (and the floor), brush the dogs (much to their chagrin), feed the dogs (they were happy, they got an enormous portion), release a spider (yuck) and helped DH hang a mirror (while sitting on Craig's shoulders), and is now assisting Craig with supper (which, at this point, means staring at the oven waiting for the biscuits).

Don't get me wrong; I'm thrilled that we're raising a helpful boy. I have visions of Murray feeding the homeless, raising money for charity, and planting trees in the Amazon.

I just don't understand why this helping phase doesn't include picking up his toys.

-MM
P.S. Laugh track for the day: While playing Hide and Seek tonight, I was the "counter" and Murray said, "Mama, I'm going to take off my shoes so I can hide in your bed." Where could he be?

Dear Darla

2011-09-15T13:26:00.001-05:00

Have you seen the 1990's version of "The Little Rascals"? If you haven't, it's pretty cute. Murray's watched it so many times, he can recite several lines. Our favorite is:
"Dear Darla,"
"I hate your stinkin' guts."
"You make me vomit."
"You are the scum between my toes."

Only Murray's version is this:
"Dear Darla"
"I hate your stinkin' guts."
"You make me bomit."
"You are the skunk between my toes."

I realize this probably isn't the healthiest thing to teach your child, but the way he recites it is so funny that I make him do it several times daily. Laughter guaranteed.

On a completely unrelated note, you may have noticed that I haven't posted pictures and video clips in a long time. This is because I had an old laptop that didn't support our cameras (they're ancient, too). Anyway, last week, my computer finally crashed. It crashed so hard that even Craig couldn't fix it.

I swear I didn't dump my glass of water on it intentionally.

I was secretly thrilled and off I went to purchase a brand, spankin' new laptop. But, my evil plan was thwarted. DH, the computer genius that he is, decided that he could rebuild this old honkin' 1988 version of a computer, so we would only have to buy a new monitor. I get it - we saved several hundred dollars. Great plan. Now, if I could just find the USB port on the damn video camera (new to us, but slightly used), I'd be able to add visual content again. Finally.

After he finishes my math tutorial tonight, we'll have a new/used computer tutorial. My homework is never done. Sigh.
-MM

What Were You Doing?

2011-09-09T14:13:00.001-05:00

Note: edited version.

September 11, 2001:

I was a student at NDSU and living in a teeny apartment close to campus. Recently single, I was nursing a heartbreak and several mugs of beer after my bartending shifts.

What I didn't know then was that society was about to change, and my broken heart was minuscule compared to the rest of the world.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I woke up to The Today Show. At 8:02 a.m. (central time) I learned that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I thought it was an accident, but just minutes later, I heard that second tower of the WTC had been annihilated, the Pentagon had been attacked, and Flight 93 had crashed.

I will never, ever, EVER forget the angst of that day and the months following. I don't need to elaborate; we all have the horrible images etched in our memories.

I made it to school the next day, but the silent and mournful faces on the sidewalks and in the classroom were eerie. I remember sitting in my Child Development class while a jet flew over our building. We all looked at each other with a terrified expression and literally ducked for cover.

We're all still hurting. I don't think the pain will go away. Several days after September 11th, 2001, I was visiting with a friend who said, "We're going to be scared for the rest of our lives, and our children's lives, and their children's lives." Too right. America will never be the same.

I can't imagine how the families and friends of the victims have suffered. The thought makes me cringe.

I don't have the words or thoughts to express my sadness. I can't even write about this anymore. I'm sorry. My heart aches. Sending prayers.

-MM

Little Boys and Bugs

2011-09-01T22:00:00.003-05:00

Our family moved to a new town when I was a sophomore in high school. It was the middle of August, and our home hadn't been lived in for several months. The house was quite clean, but we did have one problem; crickets. They were everywhere. It was so bad that I slept on the kitchen counter that first night.

I'm not a fan of spiders and bugs, but I can usually handle the removal of them. If I see a cricket, though, I run for cover and stand on the nearest chair

I know my fear of crickets is silly. They don't bite and they can't hurt you. Even so, they drive me crazy. Crickets are awful; they make horrible noises, invade your home, and well, I won't elaborate on what happens when you step on them. I'd ride on an angry bull before I would welcome a cricket into our home. That's saying something for a woman who's scared to drive on the interstate.

So, today, when I picked Murray up from daycare, he and his pals were very excited about the grasshoppers that they had caught - I can do grasshoppers (I know, no rationality here) so I went to have a look.

Grasshoppers would have been acceptable, only they weren't grasshoppers, they were crickets.

Yes, they were CRICKETS. Our nephew was squeezing them, and Murray had one hopping all over his hand. It took a lot of courage to be brave and say, "Wow, those are really neat!" especially without swearing like a sailor.

I have the willies just thinking about it.
-MM

How to Save Your Tomatoes and Sanity

2011-08-31T21:56:00.000-05:00

I had a new experience on Sunday. I was invited to can tomatoes. I LOVE tomatoes, so I was thrilled to be included. Although I've never been a part of the process, I was surprised to find that it was really fun and quite rewarding.

I won't get this perfect (so don't follow my recipe), but here is a sampling of the process:

Start with 4 cups of coffee.

Dress - in your worst clothes - they really don't need to be clean, but even so, you may want to smell nice so as not to offend your canning friends.
Buy - tomatoes and ingredients (or if you're lucky, your canning friends will do it).

Pour more coffee.

Separate - your lids from the jar, then sterilize all.
Chop veggies - a ton of them (we did peppers, onions, and garlic).
Boil - water in a large pot; douse tomatoes for 30 seconds, then, plop them into a sink of cold water (blanching).

Drink more coffee.

Peel - the tomato skins get soft, so it's easy to remove the skin after the blanching process.
Measure - important to have the correct amount of vegetables and tomatoes per batch - do this while chopping).
Canning - use a large mouth funnel.
Sample - very important to test your work, but make a bloody cesar. This will help so that you can finish 2.2 more bushels.

Seal - I'm still confused about this process - I was too busy with the ceasars.
Label the jars.
Wash dishes.
Sample more salsa.
Drink more vodka.
Wash more dishes.
Seal more jars.
Label more jars.
Drink one more bloody ceasar.
Revel in the fact that you canned 4.5 bushels of stewed tomatoes and salsa.
Go home, exhausted but quite full of tomatoes and vodka.

I still smell like garlic. Completely worth it.

-MM

Child Care Providers are Angels

2011-08-25T11:23:00.001-05:00

Daycare is closed this week. After all, child care providers deserve a vacation. Actually, especially child care providers deserve a vacation. After the morning I've had, I don't know how ours does it.

Our three year old nephew, Owen, and Murray both go to the same daycare. Their birthdays are five days apart and they're best friends (most of the time). Since I don't have class on Thursdays, it only made sense that I watch both boys. Two are easier than one - they entertain each other. Or so I thought.

So far today, we've eaten eggs and pancakes, gone on a long bike ride, painted masterpieces, played with colored bubbles (I don't recommend this), spent time in the sandbox, set up the castle complete with balls, had a snack, sung the clean up song five times, and each boy has had a bout of tears - oh wait, Murray just started up again (Owen was trying to get out of the castle and accidentally kicked him in the face). I've told them to share at least 52 times and constructed train tracks that rival Burlington Northern.

It's only 10:30, and already both boys are already battered. Owen has a bruise on his cheek because Murray whacked him with a hockey stick. Murray has a goose egg on his head because he tripped in the bathroom and somehow bonked his head on the step stool. I've called our pediatrician twice and I'm living in fear that I'll have to call again - or worse, call the ambulance.

At least they haven't peed in public like they did on Monday when my father-in-law had them.

Is it too early to put them down for a nap and pour a glass of chardonnay?

Hats off to child care providers everywhere. You are angels waiting for wings.

-MM

2 Kool 4 Skool

2011-08-22T21:00:00.003-05:00

Note: I've edited this about thirty times, so please, keep in mind that if you find any grammatical or spelling mistakes, well, it is what it is -nothing new. I should put this disclaimer on every post. :)

You're probably tired of reading about my back-to-school ventures, but since today was the first day of class, I couldn't resist just one more post on the subject (at least for a while).

I have been so excited for this new chapter in my life.

Until yesterday.

I was quietly reading the Sunday paper, when out of the blue, cold fear washed over me. I ended up in a doozie of a panic, moaning, "What am I thinking?" Since my Mom isn't around for me to whine at, I did the next best thing; I called my Grandma.

As soon as I heard her voice, I promptly burst into tears. I gave her my best "oh-poor me-I'll never get this-how will I manage-my family will suffer-I will be the biggest, oldest dork in class-and I'll fail miserably" speech. She gently but firmly reminded me that I'm already a step ahead of the college game and pointed out the advantages that I have over so many others. "One day at a time", she advised. "When you've kayaked too far and think you can't make it back home, just remember, one paddle at a time. You'll get there." "Savor each day and when you have bad days (and you will), focus on the end result and what you want out of this". Such sound advice - I wish I could bottle it.

After my talk with Grandma, I felt much better. But then, those ominous hours of dark rolled around, and I found myself sleepless; so much so that I was awake most of the night imagining worst-case scenarios while I attempted to persuade my brain to take a break and rest.

I wrestled with sleep all night. Craig didn't have to wake me up this morning because I was already on the couch, scaring myself silly. When he came out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed, at 6:30 a.m. and said, "It's time to get ready for school.", I wanted to reply, " No s***, Sherlock, I've been been up all night scared out of my mind." But that wouldn't have been nice, so I bit my tongue and wearily headed for the shower.

By the time we were ready to leave the house, I thought I was going to throw up. I was shaking and my legs felt like rubber. I was early for my 8:30 a.m. class, so I sat in Craig's office trembling, attempting to drink coffee without spilling it. I reminded myself how ridiculous it was to be so scared, but sometimes anxiety isn't a reasonable force to reckon with. Craig must have noticed the fear on my face, because he offered to walk me to class (I know, how sweet is that?). On the way over, he reassured me that I would be just fine and that he would help me in as many ways that he could. The guy has big shoulders (I have an amazing support system). Good thing he has a degree in math and is brilliant (although, him tutoring me has the potential to cause serious marriage trouble). As I write this, he's reading my math book with more enthusiasm than a raccoon raiding a cooler.

I arrived at my first class and waited in the hallway because there were already students in the classroom. A lady at the front of the room was talking to students that were seated, so I assumed that the class prior to mine wasn't finished. I soon discovered that she, too, was an O.T.A. (older than average) and just as scared as I. I think I'll make her my new best friend.

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, despite that I had a math (sigh) quiz on the first day. It should have gone something like this:
a:  Marie is not the oldest person in her math class.
b:  Marie is definitely the oldest person in her other three classes.
c: Who cares?
d:  Marie needs to buy stock in erasers.
d: None of the above.
e: All of the above.

Answer: E
Write this down - there will be a test.
-MM
P.S. Murray has been saying things like, "when I get 31, can I come to your college?" And, "Mom, I'm off to school to do my homework!" (while running around with my backpack) I hope this is an encouraging sign for the future.

Sick Day

2011-08-18T16:31:00.002-05:00

Murray is sick. I hate it when he's sick.

He developed a fever late yesterday afternoon, and complained of a sore throat and a headache. As soon as I heard, I rushed to the local pharmacy and purchased every little thing I could think of to make him feel better. Acetaminophen, orange juice, chicken noodle soup, a new thermometer, etc.

After he spit out half of the dose of medicine I gave him, I put a cold washcloth on his head and put him on DH's lap. I had him sip soup from a mug, encouraged fluids, and gave him a tepid bath. Just call us the Spock's.

At 7:30 p.m. or so, he suddenly perked up and decided it was time to run around the house. Craig and I attempted to settle him down, but soon gave up when he showed no signs of feeling ill - it had to be the acetaminophen.

Murray slept with me, so Craig got the boot to the couch (he insisted he would sleep better, I didn't make him, I swear). Other mommies know that when your child is ill, even if he/she is sleeping soundly, you wake up every fifteen minutes or so to check foreheads for fever and signs of respiratory complications. I am one of them. I'm exhausted.

This morning when Murman woke up, he demanded breakfast and PBS Kids, just like any other morning. I felt some relief, thinking that I was a genius mom/nurse. Not so much.

He's not complaining of aches and pains anymore, but he's been extremely lethargic and doesn't have have an appetite (he only ate 2 french toasts sticks at breakfast instead of the normal four). This, from a kid who acts like the Energizer Bunny, eats 8 meals a day, and asks for a snack five minutes after he's put his dinner plate in the sink.

So, Murman and I spent the day taking it easy. I've watched 'Toy Story 3' twice, 'How to Train Your Dragon' once, and more PBS Kids then I can handle. I missed my trashy daytime t.v. and ignored the laundry. We snuggled on the couch and ate chicken noodle soup and drank copious amounts of ice water and orange juice.

Sick days aren't so bad after all.

-MM

Older Than Average

2011-08-12T22:58:00.001-05:00

Note: Edited version.

I hate to say it, but autumn is upon us, which inevitably brings a new school year. One more week until classes begin for fall semester. It looks to be a long three years, but I think I'm finally ready to do the college thing - and do it well. (am I finally growing up?)

The start of school has always made me feel that I have a chance to begin again; a fresh start. It's a wonderful feeling, but it's also a bit intimidating.

Take, for instance, a kindergarten kid walking into class for the first time, or teenagers joining the ranks of junior high or high school. I remember it well -it's kinda scary to be the new kid.

At the age of 30-something, I'm going to be the new "kid" again. I'm diving back into the collegiate life as an older than average student. Now I'm the one who will have the awkward moments and feel unsure of myself. I will be out of fashion and I'll be the nerd who sits in the front row and writes down every word the professor says. I'll roll my eyes at what I think about my 19-year-old classmates ("like, did you go to the kegger at Alpha Omega Delta last night? Like, it was SO lame and can you believe, like, she wore that? Gross.) when really, I'm just a tiny bit envious.

Likely I'll be forced to do a group project with said young adults and they'll teach me some important life lessons. After all, I could use some education.

Wish me luck.

-MM

Daddy's Hands

2011-08-02T14:02:00.000-05:00

I love it when my Dad visits, which he did last weekend. He's a big kid at heart but also an awesome father to my sister and I and grandfather to Murray.

Murray thinks the world of him - we all do, but in Murray's eyes he is nothing short of a hero. The feeling is mutual. Grandpa Doug took part in water fights (the rest of us watched), pretended to be a jungle gym, took Murray on long walks, played endless games of hide and seek, and woke up every morning to cuddle and watch PBS. The two of them read books and sang songs and played Memory. He set up a tent and told the ghost story of the "Blue Bear" and practiced casting with a new fishing pole.

The special relationship that the two of them share brings a flood of my own memories. My Dad and my sister and I have always enjoyed a special bond, (although we were equally close to our Mom. We have great parents.) Dad held my hand when I was in pain, counseled me through fights with my friends, scolded me when I was late for curfew, cried when I went to prom, took me hunting and fishing, and put together my bunk beds when I moved into the dorm. He was there when my Mom was sick and died, helped me through countless heartbreaks, walked me down the aisle, and welcomed Craig to our family. When Murray was born, he was so excited he could hardly speak.

The best thing? He still does all of those things for his adult children. When I'm sad, he lets me cry. When I'm mad, he lets me rage. He believes in me and gives me (too much) credit. He gently lets me know if I'm wrong. He adores my sister and I, and wants to help us when we're in need. He has the hands of a worker and the heart of a child; never questioning, always loving.

No family is perfect and ours certainly isn't. We all have our ups and downs and battles to face. But at least we have each other. Thanks, Dad.

-MM

For Posterity: Conversations With Murray

2011-07-28T10:48:00.001-05:00

Since my camera refuses to sync with my computer and I'm feeling the need to record some things again, I'm posting more Murrayisms. Here we go:

Murray: Where did we get that? (referring to a dresser)
Me:         From Grandma Kathy (clearly I meant our storage unit that houses her things)
Murray: Did she drop it?

Murray: Mama, you're SO BEAUTIFUL (I'm not making this up and I may have already blogged about this but it's my favorite)

Murray: Mom, could I have my own? (while sharing popcorn)
Me:        Yes, I'll get you a bowl.
Murray: No, I mean stop eating it, please. (so much for sharing)

Murray: Please show me what time it is. (while looking at a clock)
Me:         Well, this is the big hand and that means hours, and this is the little hand and that means minutes, and each number stand for five minutes, and then you count by fives so the number one means it's five after the hour and the number two means it's ten after the hour... (insert Charlie Brown's teacher)
Murray:   Great, Mom, but what time are we going to Grandma Mary's house?

Craig:     Murray, have a good day.
Murray: Dad, have fun at work and have a GREAT DAY. (agreed)

Murray: Dad, when are we going out west? (to see Grandpa Doug)
Craig:     Not sure, but probably in a few weeks.
Murray:  How many sleeps is that?

Murray: Mom, they won't let you work anymore because they can't give you money? (right on, son)

Murray: I love my Rudy and Nala and Grandma Mary and Grandpa Dennis and Grandpa Doug and Grandma Kathy in heaven and Maggie and Grandma Kate and Grandpa Jack and...well, I forgot who else.
Me:        Well, all of those people love you too.
Murray: Do they?

Of course we do, dear boy. You are a gem.
P.S. Grandpa Doug is on his way.

-MM

All Talk and No Action: Abortion vs. Adoption

2011-07-27T09:02:00.000-05:00

Note: This post may be offensive to some. I will not judge you, but I will not apologize for my thoughts.

I admit that I can be all talk and no action.

Several weeks ago I discussed joining my friend and fellow blogger and Mom friend, Roxane, on the sidewalk at the Red River Women's Clinic. I wanted to pray and reach out for the people that feel that pregnancy is an impossible situation. So many people would welcome a child into their loving arms, if only the men and women considering abortion would see that there is an alternative. My husband and I are blessed with adopted children in our lives. A friend of mine said recently, "Biology doesn't make you a parent". (Thanks, Kristine.) How very true.
At the last minute, I admitted to Roxane that I was terrified to accompany her on the sidewalk. So, I didn't go with her. I'm ashamed that I was too scared to join her plight, but when we discussed it (via writing) she was incredibly supportive. She understood that I wasn't ready, and encouraged my prayer and thoughts without a hint of judgement. What an awesome person God has blessed my life with. I'm grateful for her friendship.

I will always believe that abortion is wrong; the very thought of it makes me cringe. But right now, I'm praying that soon I'll be able to join Roxane on the sidewalk and have the courage to stand up for my convictions.
-MM

Grocery Store Helpful Hints

2011-07-20T12:39:00.001-05:00

Recently I've taken on the chore of grocery shopping. What was always Craig's task has now become mine - by choice - after all, why should he put in a long day and then come home only to run to Hornbacher's? It certainly isn't my favorite household job, but I have a new appreciation for marketing. Especially now that I'm addicted to cooking shows.

Some things I've learned:
1. The best time of day to shop is late morning. The shelves are stocked, the produce is fresh and there isn't a large crowd. This is useful knowledge since I tend to get shopping cart rage.

2. People at this time of day (say around 10 or 11 a.m.) are more inclined to commiserate. There's something endearing about discussing how to ripen fruit or the quality of meat at the butcher. No one is in a rush, we're all just taking our time perusing the aisles. So refreshing compared to the hustle and bustle of a five o'clock trip to the store.

3. The cashiers tend to be a bit more relaxed and chatty. I equate this to not having to deal with "happy hour" at the grocery store. I should note that I've never, not once, had a rude clerk at Hornbacher's (which is why we shop there).

4. The employees who bag your items and put them in your car really do appreciate a tip. Now if I could just get them to come over and put my groceries away.

5. It's best to make grocery shopping your one errand for the day. Otherwise, you could lose a whole chicken and a liter of Coke in your truck (but this has never happened to me).

I still dislike buying groceries, but in a month or so I'll wish I had the time to make the trip. Good thing Hornbacher's delivers.

-MM

It's Official

2011-07-19T13:10:00.000-05:00

I'm officially a student again. I have never been more excited than I am now. Even for my math class.

It's so gratifying to know that this time, without a doubt, I will finally walk across that stage and accept my diploma.

I digress. I'm getting ahead of myself. It's going to be a long few years. My family will suffer, my home will suffer, but I'll make up for it, I swear I will.

There are four people who have motivated me to get the job done:

1. My Mom. While co-parenting with our Dad, and a separated family, she graduated from college at the age of 33 and had a successful career in law enforcement. She also managed to be the best mom.

2. My Dad, who, with two small girls, finished college, married my Mom. After that, he finished his Master's degree. My Dad is pretty neat.

3. My sister finished her degree even though we were in the midst of our Mom being sick and then dying. She also just received a promotion (again) and is thriving being a paralegal.

4. My high school friend, Amanda, graduated from college a while back. I was so impressed while following her journey. I think it's awesome that she had to courage and tenacity to finish her degree.

I don't necessarily do things "perfectly" or follow society "rules", but I do have the best family and friends. Thanks to you who have set an example.

-MM

Spoiled with A Chance of Changes

2011-07-18T11:13:00.002-05:00

Note: Edited for error.

I have it pretty good these days. I admit, I'm spoiled.

Since the unfortunate ~~firing~~ elimination of my position at work, I've had the time to be keep the house (fairly) clean and have dinner on the table when Craig gets home. I'm on top of laundry and my organization skills are really coming along, as well they should, since I don't have an 8-5 job.

I love this time in my life. It will be short-lived because - drum roll here - I will be a full-time student in a few short weeks (yeah, I know, again). I love having extra time with Murray without rushing around in the morning and scrambling to get out the door (now I just scramble eggs). I love that I have the time and energy to cook again. I love having the time to read and write. I love that every closet and drawer in our home is at least semi-organized. I love spending more time with the hounds and keeping them brushed and looking good. I love watching the Cosby Show in the morning and Oprah re-runs from in the afternoon while I fold laundry.

The month of August will again bring changes and add a new dimension to our lives. I wonder if I can be a good Mom, wife, and homemaker and a good student at the same time? I'll let you know in a month or two. Right now, I have clothes to put away and dinner to prepare.

-MM

A Rubber Tub

2011-07-14T10:42:00.000-05:00

I'm in a sentimental mood. Here's why:

Lately I've been focusing on getting closets/drawers/bedrooms organized. I want to have our house in order before school starts in August. I've discovered some wonderful items (even Craig's Scheel's gift card that was lost long ago) and have been puttering around, willing myself to find a place for things.

Yesterday I started the long dreaded task of cleaning Murray's closet. The majority of the contents include our Mom's files and memories that we tossed into a Rubber Maid tub when we cleaned out her house, to be dealt with when we felt a bit better. I didn't know that three years later, I would still feel the same raw grief that I felt when she got sick, the morning she died, and the months after.

Despite my sadness, I've had a lot of smiles and laughter. Our Mom saved things that only a mother knows would be important someday. My journals from high school (oh the shame), Maggie's ridiculous drawings, other items that Mom must have know that we would appreciate. I'm catching a glimpse of the quiet, gentle and committed woman that she was. I found two of her four badges (my sister has the others) and I had to sit still and cry for a while. That's the catch 22 of memories: the good ones never fade, but the bad ones don't either.

So, while reminiscing in my shared childhood and adulthood with my sister, my Mom's motherhood, and life in general, I can say that it's been a good experience. Healthy, cathartic. It's not easy, but I'm determined to finish the project - Mom always said, "Do things well and completely" - and so I will.

But maybe tomorrow. And with my sister.
MM

A Taboo Topic (But Not Anymore!)

2011-07-08T10:35:00.002-05:00

I'm pro-life.

I have always believed so. I didn't know how much I've believed until recently.

Have you ever had the experience that you are on the outside looking in? Or have you ever just realized something different from what you thought after it happened to you? How has it affected you? What did you do (or would have done) differently?

The reason for my questions is what my good friend, Roxane has inspired me to ask. Peace Garden Mama (a.k.a Roxane) puts abortion into a perspective that I am incapable of writing. I thank you, Roxane, for allowing me to re-post your writing. The words that follow are not my own, but they are poignant and true.
I see hope; the tenacity of a fragile stem ignoring what should be possible, pushing toward light despite the hostile environment it is bound to enter.

This photograph speaks to me in a particularly vivid way right now, especially concerning a recent calling of the heart. Despite my intentions, I've been finding myself lately on the sidewalk in front of North Dakota's only abortion facility. Yes, moi, the gal who always thought her pro-life convictions would be best shared in a "safe" place. Through the written word, for example, or a radio interview, but certainly not as an active sidewalk-counselor-in-training.

About a month ago, I interviewed on our local Catholic radio station the woman -- Elizabeth McClung -- who helped effect the conversion of former Planned Parenthood director Abby Johnson to the side of life. When I listened to the podcast of that interview a few weeks later, I was jarred to hear myself telling Elizabeth that praying for life publicly "isn't for everyone." I was speaking about myself.

But then Abby came to Fargo and I had a chance to hear her story in person, both from her mouth and through her bestselling book, Unplanned. When I realized Elizabeth's prayers and the flowers and card she had offered Abby two years before her conversion had made a difference, despite many days, weeks and months of it all seeming futile, things changed inside of me. When Abby challenged us to not forget about what she'd shared, and insisted the women seeking abortions needed to hear our voices, I could no longer ignore the still, small voice within me.

Then again I might have, if not for my 13-year-old daughter, who'd also met Abby.

"Mom, can we stand out on the sidewalk again this Wednesday?" she asked a few days before "abortion day," the week following our meeting with Abby. It nearly took my breath away to hear her request, but I recognized the opportunity at once and knew I could not diminish it.

"Sure, let's do that," I said, not quite believing what was happening. Her young voice was rising above the din of my doubts, giving me courage to shoo away my timidity.

"No offense, Mom," she added, "but maybe, because I'm younger and all, I might make more of an impact."

"You know, you could be right about that," I said, not able to deny wisdom as it stared me in the face.

Indeed, her presence could well make a difference. It already had. The week before, as we stood there with the others praying in the rain, a car full of hecklers driving past yelled obscenities at us from our sidewalk perch.

"What was that?" she asked, turning to me. Then, in an impeccably timed moment, she added, "Oh, they must just be jealous of my good hair day."

It's exactly what I needed to decrease the tension and sadness I felt watching one woman after another walk into the facility, knowing she would come out a changed person, and not for the better. As one bumper sticker I read recently says: "Abortion: one life lost, another wounded."

This week I returned without my daughter, who was out of town, and though I'm still a sidewalk newbie, I'm starting to get the hang of it. I know where I can and can't stand ("Don't touch the green carpet!"). I've gotten to know some of the names of the abortion facility escorts; some of whom are very aggressive toward those who've come to pray, others who are quieter, perhaps new like me, just trying to figure things out.

And I've discovered that I'm not content to only pray, though prayer is certainly one of the most valuable things I can do. I've reached out to several of the escorts in an attempt to get to know them. One of them was very receptive this week. I know that everyone, no matter what side of the sidewalk they're on, truly believes they are helping women. But I also know that it can't be the case that taking life is ever a positive, and that I have entered the front lines of a war zone. Lives of the mothers, the babies, and all those who love them are at stake.

I can't completely explain what has compelled me to take up a post on this sidewalk of all the sidewalks in North Dakota, but I definitely feel it as a strong stirring, an urgent call to action, though certainly not one I would have willingly chosen.

Perhaps God has had this in mind for me for a long time, but I've only recently become ready. I'm beginning to think that might be the case. Regardless, I'm becoming bolder. I want to meet the workers of the facility and somehow, in whatever way I can, give them the same sense of hope I've experienced while looking upon a weed that refuses to give up on light

Thank you, Roxane, for touching on a sensitive topic. So many people are unable or unwilling to discuss abortion. I can't preach that I'm an expert. I know I haven't done enough to stop this. But now I can be pro-active. I'm joining my courageous and diligent friend, Roxane on Wednesday on the sidewalk.

Prayers to unborn babies and to the women and men who are confused. There are always options.

If you'd like to see the original post, go to http://www.peacegardenmama.com/

New Blog

2011-07-06T14:03:00.000-05:00

Check out this hiliarous post from one of my new favorite blogs "The Mouthy Housewives". Thanks, Mama Kat, for introducing me!

-Murray's Momma

Dear Nook People

2011-06-24T17:55:00.001-05:00

Dear Barnes and Noble People From Whatever Country I Just Called,

Thank you for keeping me on hold for twenty minutes. I was able to get a lot of work done while I waited for you to answer.

I also appreciate the politeness of the customer service representative that I spoke with although I think I could have understood sign language over the phone better than I could understand what you were trying to say to me (but you probably feel the same way, so it's not really your fault).

What I don't understand is that you continually put me on hold (yes, three times, check the records) to ask the "expert of consumer management" while I patiently wait for my problem to be solved. I also don't understand that when I asked for a tracking number after the first two times of being on hold, you told me that the "expert of consumer management" declared that a confirmation number wasn't necessary, and that if my product wasn't delivered in 2-3 more days that I should call you back; again.

There are worse problems in the world than my accesorries being shipped on time. So I hope that all of you in Minot and the surrounding communities are safe, and know that you are in my prayers. God bless you.

Before I sign off for today, I have to give DH credit; after working on the yard (the only 2 times he's been home this week), he's had to cancel twice in the middle of a project to make sure that the baby birds are okay. He's had mama birds dive him twice and been yelled at a lot. Bird mamas are just like human mamas. I would do the same. The baby birds are safe, and it's number 1,543,600 of the reasons that I love this man.

Happy Husband's Day!

2011-06-19T09:11:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I took Murray shopping, explaining to him that Father's Day is on Sunday and that we were going to buy Daddy a gift and a card. It was to be a surprise, and he was sworn to secrecy.

What was I thinking?

Shopping mission accomplished, Craig returned from meetings and Murray excitedly said, "Dad, we got you a present for Husband's Day!" We both cracked up and finally, a wounded Murray looked at us and sadly asked, "What's so funny? Stop laughing!". When we could breathe again, I asked Murray who his Daddy was to me. "He's Craig, Mama", he replied.

Oh dear.

A ten minute conversation ensued while Craig and I attempted to discuss the dynamics that are a family, which led to a lot of "why's" and ended with "only mamas and daddies can kiss on the lips, you know."

I think we'll leave the rest of the birds and the bees talk for a much later date. We can only hope we satisfied his curiosity, at least, until he's 25.

Happy Husband's Day!

A Mid-Summer's Update

2011-06-16T15:30:00.000-05:00

It's hard to believe it's the middle of June. It's been a very busy summer! Here's the latest in the "Murray's Momma" household.

Sadly, we decided to find a new home for Kirby, our 5-year-old cat. My allergies were worse than ever this spring, and unfortunately, Kirby's dander was a contributing factor. A wonderful graduate student adopted him, and she takes extremely good care of him. She even takes him on walks. I know he's getting the attention and love he deserves.

We still have both dogs, who thankfully, don't irritate my allergies. Let's hope it stays that way.

As much as we love relax at the lake on weekends, we haven't had as many lake days as we'd like this year. A lot of this is due to the imminent state government shut down. Craig has been busy with emergency meetings and phone calls. Yesterday, we found out that Minnesota State Colleges and Universities (MNSCU) will allow the colleges to use money that's in reserve in order to stay open. This is of great relief not only for our family, but thousands of MNSCU employees across the state. For the sake of the state, we are praying that Governor Dayton and the legislature will put politics aside and come to an agreement that is best for all.

Murray is growing and growing and talking and talking, and TALKING! He's such a chatterbox that the only quiet time around our house is when he's asleep (and sometimes even in deep REM he's still yapping). His latest favorite phrases include: "Oh Yeah, oh yeah!", the words "and also" and "why?" Sometimes, our conversations go like this:

Murray:     Mama, I LOVE you.
Me:            I love you too, Murray.
Murray:     Do you? Oh, of course you do.
(this always cracks me up)

Or, there's this:

Me:           Murray, please brush your teeth, we're almost ready to go.
Murray:     Mama, the dentist said I have to brush my teeth 2 times, you know?

(I love it when he adds the "you know" at the end, although I'm sure someday, I'll regret it)

So while this sounds like a Christmas letter, I guess it's more of a mid-year update. I will post again soon; next time, with pictures and hopefully, a stimulating conversation starter. Stay safe and dry this weekend. Until next time...TTFN.

Marriage = Teamwork

2011-05-31T21:07:00.000-05:00

We all have things that we excel at and then, there are those other things that we could do a bit better. For instance, when it comes to our household, DH is the picker-upper-organizer-put-things-in-their-place guy. Myself, I'm the sanitizer-scrubber-make-sure-the-ants-stay-away guy. Craig is also the do-the-laundry guy, but I'm the clean-clothes-putter-away-guy. Our personalities work beautifully when we sync. And when we do, we're an amazing team.
There are times though, when we aren't on the same page. Last week, I decided to clean the entry way. Doing so, I shoved everything from it into the front porch and put back what we needed...and left the rest...in the porch. Craig was sweet not to say anything and he still isn't pushing me about finishing the job I started. I suppose it has to do something with the fact that he cleaned the truck and put the junk in tubs (that I had purchased to organize the porch stuff) and placed them on one of the couches. At least his mess is contained and we can approach it when we have some time. Besides, most of it is the boxes from my old office which I'm still struggling with the fact that I have to put away. Sometimes, when I know that DH has a particularly busy travel schedule, I will even help with the mowing (this doesn't sound like a big deal, but our mower is self propelled and only has one speed - FAST - which means I'm literally running behind it and wheezing and sneezing the entire way). Doing chores that will ease his load makes me feel as though I'm a contributor.

But when we go to Craig's parent's home, or the lake, we manage to stick together. I may help with cooking or cleaning, but Craig is mowing, updating the computer, picking up dog remnants, washing the boat or dishes, and what have you. My point is simple: even when we don't agree, it usually works out in the end.

This is one of the very many beautiful things about marriage; pray together, stay together. Work together, stay together. It just doesn't get any better.

God bless our late, injured and active troops.

One more thing: Does anyone know how to transfer pictures from my phone to my blog? I've tried, but it's not working. Thanks in advance!

The Ant Saga: Part II (or is it three or four) and Other Stuff

2011-05-19T23:07:00.000-05:00

I have scrubbed, and when I say that, I mean bleached, scrubbed, and rinsed every single surface in this house. Door frames, walls, ceiling fans, cupboards, the refrigerator, window sills, and base boards. I've cleaned the basement, pulled out every piece of furniture and appliance and scrubbed underneath and behind. After all of that, I sprayed Raid Indoor (twice) and sprinkled the outside with ant killer. So when I spotted the darned ant again, I was livid. But, I "re-Raided everything I could think of (besides Murman), and then, it happened. If ants could fly, then that's what they did. A trail of them (and a large one) streamed from behind the fridge (said area was raided, then scrubbed, and then raided again with me yanking the damn thing out myself a week prior from today) and then I lost my marbles. My rage could be a combination of losing my job, struggling and juggling homework and the house and the fact that there are only four more episodes of Oprah, but I did it - I flipped. I don't think it has anything to do with anything other than my war against the S&*^$ ants. Please allow me to remind you that this house has been as clean as a hospital since the "unfortunate incident". I just can't get rid of the ants, and I've tried EVERYTHING! Suggestions? Please? Anyone? HELP!

Good news to share; I've scored very well on my first few assignments. Summer courses, especially online are incredibly demanding and I'm thrilled that I've been able to not only keep up, but make the grades! Go me!

I went back to the doctor yesterday because my allergies have been getting worse. I love Dr. J., but I should have just called the Great G.K., an expert on most things, one of them allergies. She reminded me that not only is the cat a problem (sadly) but so are feather pillows and any sort of dander. When I used her words of wisdom to analyze the symptoms I've been having, so many things made sense. In fact, please excuse the poor paraphrase: G.K. said, "Allergies are cumulative. The more triggers you add, the worse the symptoms become." What I thought was strange is that for most of my life, I haven't had seasonal allergies. I learned that they can develop over time, and best of all, I'm not a hypochondriac. At least, I think not. So for now, I'm closing the windows, the cat has a new home, and tomorrow, I'm going pillow shopping. The good news? My oven is clean.

Happy weekend. My your life be allergen free and your floors never be dirty. Good luck with that. :)

Extreme CLEAN Home Makeover: The Beckerleg Edition

2011-05-15T21:36:00.000-05:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAGS! I LOVE YOU!

Sounds funny to go from there to here, but it is what it is. See below.

The ants go marching one by hurrah, hurrah!
The ants go marching none by none HURRAH, HURRAH!

Yes, we had an ant problem. I was too embarrassed to admit it, but it turns out that in cool, wet, temperatures, it can happen to anyone. I went through approximately $100 and four hundred and fifty-nine hours of cleaning to rid our home of them, and I do think, just maybe, I've succeeded. And they weren't the nice sugar ants either. They were huge and nasty and black and just gross.

Speaking of cleaning, keeping busy has been a life saver for me. Housework to the extreme, yard work (woman on a mission), working ahead on school work (again, woman on a mission) and I'm beginning to feel a bit better. My hands are raw, my body aches and I'm probably smelly, but it's good. I have been deep cleaning this house since the "unfortunate incident", but it's been worth every second. The strange thing is, I can't stop. I really don't have any other major projects, but every time I turn around, I think, "Oh dear, the ceiling fans need dusting", or "Shoot, I scrubbed the entry way, but forgot to put everything I threw in the porch back" or, "For crying out loud, now I have to sweep...but I just did!" So I guess I do still have some big tasks left. Good thing, too. I love to be busy?????.

After a wonderful, but long day, Craig and I have collapsed. As my dear Grandmother says, "the housework is never done". She hit the nail on the head, as usual....the key now is to keep up with it - another great piece of advice from the Great K. And don't be afraid if you visit us and I'm spraying Raid Indoor and wiping every little surface with bleach. It's just my new normal. Good riddance, ants (although I'd like to tell you to get the bleep out)!

P.S. I would LOVE to hear any advice for cleaning and maintaining the clean. HELP!

Chin Up, Buck Up

2011-05-09T15:02:00.001-05:00

I've had sme time to process since last Wednesday when I announced the latest hurdle. It sounds easy to move on, and sometimes, it feels that way. That's not to say I don't have my moments. Relying on my inner strength, my faith, family and friends is helping. Today was the first day that I went to the office, despite the fact that I was dreading it. I woke up this morning with an attitude of, "take names and kick a**, but Craig reminded me that it's not my style, or in my blood to do so. So I went to work with a cheery face, worked on getting organized for the people who will be taking over my work, and grinning when I wanted to cry (not that I didn't have tears when I left).

I had a quick, healthy lunch, came home, started some more house work and when I couldn't help it anymore, I called my loved ones. I feel better at the moment, and remain positive that I will continue to do so. As I've said before, keeping busy is an immense relief. By the end of the week, the majority of deep cleaning will be done and then I will focus on my creative writing course (which I need and am excited about).

As far as projects go, does anyone have advice for caring for an out of control Umbrella Tree Plant? I love it dearly, but am afraid to split and and re-pot it for fear of an untimely plant death. The poor thing is thriving, but her roots are growing out of a very large pot. Help!

The best news? I don't have to worry about missing Ellen or Oprah. If I work hard all day, I can have 2 hours of entertainment and solace until we begin our evening. LET'S DANCE!

A Figurative Slap In the Face

2011-05-05T11:49:00.000-05:00

"There isn't an easy way to do this, so I'm going to jump in and say it. Your position has been eliminated. It has nothing to do with your performance, but as you know, the state is in financial crisis. Therefore, we have to make some changes, and unfortunately, we have no choice but to let you go."

These were the words that slapped me in the face yesterday. I walked into my meeting with the VP and AVP under the impression that I would be gaining added responsibilities and signing a contract (per previous discussions and emails with the bosses). For millions of hard working people across America, similar conversations are taking place every day. I've been lucky enough to have been "laid off" (for lack of a better term) three times in 18 months. Times are tough. I know that. I also know I'm not alone. But when you absolutely love your job, enjoy going to work every day, work your tail off and sacrifice time with your family, it really and truly is a slap in the face.

I'm lucky to have options. I'm lucky to have a severance package. I'm extremely lucky to have a husband with a career. I have options. Just when I finally thought I was working my way up the ladder, the ladder tipped out from under me and I fell off the roof.

This isn't a blame game. It's more of a written pity party. I promised myself I wouldn't wallow, but instead of sitting here enjoying the sunshine, I'd rather be in my office, doing work I love. Every time I think about it, the tears flow like the swollen Red River. It's not that I want any old job; I want MY job. I loved it. I know, I know, there are billions of problems that are a lot worse than my little drama, but I'm going to wallow for a bit. The only thing I know right now is that I'm going to turn this into something good. I don't know how, but I will. When God closes a window, He opens a door. In the mean time, I'll fake it 'till I make it.

Time to call the unemployment office and update my resume. Here I go again.

Bad Timing

2011-04-29T10:22:00.000-05:00

I had an early appointment with my physician this morning to discuss allergies and some problems I've been having with high blood pressure. I took Murray along since doing so allowed me a bit more time to sleep before the trek to West Fargo (yes, I crossed the river). Anyway, after assessing my allergy problem, we tackled the high blood pressure. As we're discussing weight loss and exercise, Murray leans over, pokes the doctor in the arm, turns to me and says, "Mom! Please listen to me. When are we leaving for McDonald's?" Dr. J. burst out laughing, and I said, "Don't worry, Dr., I'll have a smoothie."

Anyway, first step, lose 20 pounds. Second step, get on my allergy medication. Third step, get blood pressure re-checked. I'm going to feel so much better and I can hardly wait! And one final step, reiterate good manners; evidently Murray needs a refresher.

Happy weekend!

Grumpy Little Men

2011-04-25T12:44:00.000-05:00

From left to right: Jack Lemmon (John Gustafson), Burgess Meredith (Grandpa Gustafson), Walter Matthau (Max Goldman).

Facebook Etiquette; According To Me

2011-04-22T17:07:00.000-05:00

I've been on Facebook for a while now, and while I have broken some of the following rules, I've learned from my mistakes. Take it with a grain of salt, but following is my take:

1. Do not post anything that you don't care to have repeated, even if you think your status is secure amongst your closest friends.

2. Speaking of close friends: if you plan to socialize with a few of them, but not all of them, please do not post; it will hurt people's feelings. Besides, life isn't a competition.

3. Whatever you do, do NOT post if you are home alone at night, where you are going specifically, or who is babysitting your child(ren) is. Common sense = safety. Also, don't post your address (which I just did by accident).

4. Please don't post something random, i.e., "I'll never get over this..." or "I have a secret but I can't tell yet..." without an explanation. This drives your friends (and those that aren't really friends) bananas.

5. Always pretend that your boss and most respected family and friends can see what you post, even if you are sure that they can't. This way, you'll never embarrass yourself (or get in trouble).

Let's keep in mind that everything I've listed has either a) happened to me, or b) something I'm guilty of doing to someone else. I certainly don't think I'm perfect. I'm learning. And growing up (albeit slowly), and while I'll NEVER be perfect, at least I can learn as I go. And hopefully, someday, I won't hurt anyone, ever. At least intentionally.

This post ended up being a bit deeper than Facebook etiquette, no?

It's the Little Things

2011-04-19T19:26:00.000-05:00

Today I:
Slept in (God bless DH), showered, dressed, applied make up, went to work, ran reports, spoke with students, worked on events, commiserated with colleagues, ran more reports, scoured the city for donations, let the dogs out, went back to work, went home for the day, scrubbed the house, forgot to re-load the laundry (kudos to my co-pilot), played balloon with Murman, cooked dinner, conversed with DH, threw the ball for the hounds, played some more with Murman, and now, finally, I'm relaxing on the couch with the cat. The result? A happy kid, a satisfied husband, played out dogs, a clean home, and an extremely tired me. Benefits? Complete, utter contentment. Yes, there is always work to be done, but the rest will wait until tomorrow. This is the ultimate life. I look forward to a repeat tomorrow.

Safe travels G&G!

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Hair

2011-04-16T18:52:00.000-05:00

"I took your mom to her first movie.
I want to take you, too.
That will be a special day
devoted just to you.
When I took your mommy,
I never watched the screen.
The movie was in her smile-
to her it was a dream." - Billy Crystal - I Already Know I Love You

If you haven't read this heartwarming book, I highly recommend you do so and do it soon. My dad sent it to me as a gift in 2005, before Murray was a twinkle in our eye. Since then, it's become one of Murray's (and my) favorite books, and has teeth marks, well-thumbed, and torn pages to prove it.

I took Murray to his first movie this afternoon ("Tangled"). Billy Crystal hit the nail on the head. He was amazing to watch. "This is a REAL BIG TV, MAMA!" At one point, he began singing very loudly on cue with Mandy Moore - giggles throughout the theatre - and when I asked him to whisper he said, "but Mom, I WANT to sing with her." And of course, we splurged on the theatre must-haves: Popcorn with extra butter, (I don't share, so I bought Murray his own) M&M's and lots of water.

I can honestly say that I didn't take in much of the show, although Max the horse was probably my favorite character from what I did see. I'm so thankful to have been able to share another "first" with my little guy.

Next up: Cars 2. According to Murray, that is.

More Murrayisms

2011-04-14T11:39:00.000-05:00

Murray experienced his very first visit to the Dentist yesterday. He did very well, even allowing the hygienist to clean all of his teeth. We were so proud of his behavior that he was rewarded with not one, but two stickers on his chart. We used to have to ~~bribe~~ coax him to brush his teeth, but now we can't get him away from the bathroom sink.

You are most likely bored with posts featuring conversations with Murray, but I have to record them somewhere, so following are a few of the latest "Murrayisms":
Murray at Dinner:
Murray: "Excuse me please?" (he meant to say, "may I please be excused" before leaving the dinner table)
Craig: "You're excused, and please remember to take your dishes to the kitchen."
Murray: After a long, puzzled stare at his dirty plates, sighs, "But I don't have 3 arms!"

Murray at Snack:
"Could I please have some more milk Big Daddy?" (where he picked up this one, we'll never know)

Murray and I Discussing Families:
Me: "Some kids have a brother or a sister to play with".
Murray: "Can Carwee be my sister, Mama?" (referring to our favorite sitter)

Murray and I Discussing Personal Information:
Me: "Murray, what's your name?"
Murray: "Murray Beckerweg Joseph" (close enough - he also knows his address, but it tends to be a bit mixed up).

Is it obvious that the weather has improved my mood? Happy Spring!

One Question

2011-03-31T13:10:00.000-05:00

When in the HECK is spring EVER going to get here? I'm not much of a "swearer", but you get my drift. This has been the longest winter that I can remember. Of course Craig falling off a roof, my starting a new job, plus several other factors beyond my control, it's no wonder that I've had it with this weather. I'm grateful that we don't have to worry about tsunami's, earthquakes, etc., but I am on the brink of insanity. Mother Nature is not at the top of my list at the moment, but I highly suspect that I'm not alone.

I read a fantastic article yesterday written by Dr. Alan Zimmerman. In it he states, "...life and work are unfair, and there is a lot we can...and should...justifiably gripe about. But it's time to GET BEYOND the griping to taking personal initiative and responsibility." This struck a cord with me in a big way. It's time to stop worrying about the stressors that I can't control and deal with those that I can (think Serenity Prayer).

That said, I'm still grumpy about the ridiculous weather, but I might as well let it go. It's not worth the energy.
What CAN I control? My own happiness, and that is so worth the energy.

2011 Reprinted with permission from Dr. Alan Zimmerman, a full-time professional speaker who specializes in attitude, motivation, and leadership programs that pay off. For more information on his programs...or to receive you own free subscription to the 'Tuesday Tip" go to http://www.drzimmerman.com/ or call 800-621-7881.

Westward

2011-03-07T12:24:00.000-06:00

It's been a while since my last post. The break from blogging wasn't intentional; life just took over. I've been crazy busy at work, trying to keep some semblance of order in the house, etc., etc.

We hopped in the car on Friday afternoon to head "out west" (as Murray says) to spend some much needed quality time with my Dad. We had a great time, but it was an adventure. The trip was going smoothly until after a quick stop for gas. We had just gotten back on the freeway, when suddenly the most horrible odor filled the car, leaving us all gasping for air. Our oldest Golden Retriever, Nala (she's 13) had a terrible accident in the back. What a mess. I won't go into detail, but it was NOT my idea of fun. She's been having more and more accidents of late; we're chalking it up to her age, but a trip to the vet is in short order.

I was able to connect with some high school friends on Saturday, and it was just like old times, only we were all. . . well, older. :)

Murray loved my Dad's horse, and of course everything about his Grandpa Doug. They did all sorts of things together; Craig and I were second fiddle. He was all about Grandpa. It warmed my heart to see the two of them enjoying each other. I am already looking forward to our next trip "out west".

The roads were treacherous coming home yesterday, but we made it, albeit a slow ride home. Now we're back to reality. . . and a mountain of laundry to prove it.

Until next time.

Laughter

2011-02-19T21:30:00.000-06:00

I cried from joy, then pain, and then the ultimate gift that was you, when you happened.
Now:

I laugh.
I cry.
I laugh again.
I get angry.
I cry, but laugh again.
I get frustrated.
I laugh until I cry.
Tears of happiness.
Because you happened.

You and your Daddy are my world.
You happened.
Your Daddy happened.
I cry again, tears of joy.
For you are a part of me.

I love you and will never stop.
Mama and Wife.

An Endless Night

2011-02-10T14:11:00.000-06:00

Murray has been acting strange lately. He's been complaining that his legs hurt, but we chalked it up to growing pains. I haven't been feeling so hot either, so yesterday I took off work early to take a nap. At around 3 p.m., our beloved "Linnie" (our daycare provider) called to report that Murray had a temp of 103-plus. So I picked him up and called his doctor's office and they said to administer Tylenol and lots of fluids and to call if the fever rose to 104 degrees. The strange thing was is that despite a pretty decent fever, he wasn't acting any differently. Since he seemed okay, I left him with Craig and went into work for a while.

We put him to bed after a dose of Tylenol, but I was worried, so I hunkered down on the floor in his room. I shouldn't have slept right next to his bed. At who knows what hour, I woke up to vomit. And it Was. All. Over. Us. I got us cleaned up, changed, and we moved to the living room; exhausted but wide awake. A long movie and several hours later, it happened. Again. And one more time after that. Needless to say, Murman and I did NOT get any sleep. As the night wore on, I myself, was feeling worse by the hour. My face felt (and still does) like it had enough pressure under my skin to burst, and then I realized that I too, had a fever. Add sore throat and an ear ache and Murray and I are are physical wrecks.

OH! I forgot to mention some very exciting news. Craig got the OK from his doctor yesterday to return to work with the understanding that he is not aloud to lift over 20 pounds, or do anything physical (like skating) for 6 months. He was thrilled, and went to work immediately after his appointment.

Anyway, besides our immune system issues, we're doing well. I apologize for a poor-pitiful-me post, but ask any member of my family: I get this way when I'm sick. I turn into a huge baby, and even worse when my own baby is feeling sick too.

So today I'm chugging orange juice and Zi-Cam, and Murray is with my dear mother-in-law so that both of us can get some rest. More to follow, but I'm going back to bed.

Murray-isms; the Latest

2011-01-31T21:26:00.000-06:00

Oh, the things that must go on in a child's mind. Sometimes Craig and I are so flabbergasted at his speech that we don't know how to respond. Here are a few of latest comments from Murray:

"Dad! I tooted. Excuse me!"

"Mama, NO THANK YOU I DO NOT WANT TO DO THAT AGAIN!" (this was after an underwater dunk at swimming lessons.

Murray was gobbling pistachios as if it were his last meal. Craig asked, "Murray, does Linsay feed you at her house (daycare)?" To which he replied, "She feed me all day long, Dad".

"Mom, where the train?" "It's pulling freight cars to other places to drop off supplies, I replied." OH, out west to Grandpa Doug?"

"Mama, I do NOT love the hiccups."

When we were at open skate yesterday, he adamantly declared "I LOVE TO SKATE MAMA"! The background of this story lies in the fact that I couldn't find my figure skates, so I rented some, plus I was a bit rusty and Uncle Jon worked with the boys since Craig was out of commission and I just plain stink.

There are so many more funny tidbits, but it would take me a very long time to write them all. I do think, that for posterity, it's important to have these things recorded somewhere.

Don't forget to let the kid in you come out once in a while.

Learning

2011-01-29T23:46:00.000-06:00

My late Mom always taught me to learn from my mistakes. So tonight, I share a poem that I try to live by daily. Of course, there are times when I fail and times when I completely fall off the map. But imagine this: since I can remember, through oh, don't know,a LOT of moves, the following has always been a steadfast staple hanging faithfully in my mother's kitchen cabinet. The paper is yellow and frail, but these words will remain in m soul. Enjoy.

Learning:
After a while you learn the difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes ahead;
with the spirit of a man, or the grace of a woman, and not the grief of a child.

And you begin to learn to build all your roads on today; because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans, and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.,

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul; instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure, you really are strong, and you really do have worth.

And you learn, and you learn, with every goodbye you learn.
---Author unknown

Get Out of My Driveway!

2011-01-26T19:16:00.000-06:00

I was slowly backing out of my driveway, checking the mirrors, when I suddenly felt and heard a loud crunch. Keep in mind, I was Still. In. My. Own. Driveway. Anyway, I heard shouting so I got out of the truck to assess the situation. I was afraid someone was injured, but what I encountered was an extremely livid young man calling me the nastiest names you can think of, and screaming that I should bleepity-bleep learn how to drive and yelling that he was going to sell his car today. After he was finished ranting at me, he yelled at me to move forward (again in my own driveway) because he didn't have any traction. I would like to point out that our driveway (which we share with our neighbors) is as clean as driveways can get in this weather. Also, his car was not damaged, but my license plate was torn off. The point is, if he wouldn't have been driving too fast for the conditions, this wouldn't have happened.

I was immediately on defense, and mad as hell. Who does he think he is, speeding into MY driveway? I understand turning around in someones driveway, but please, please, refrain from name-calling and shouting at me. Not to mention, you really should make sure that there isn't a car parked or backing up. I was completely in my space, and not on or even near the street.

Perhaps this is truly my fault and if so, I'm sorry. I offered to give him my insurance information three times, but he refused; "Too much hassle and not worth it", he said.

The funny thing is, when Craig came out of the house (brace and all), the guy calmed down and was quite pleasant, which makes me even more angry. You have to wonder what his opinion of women is, but then again, he made it obvious. It turns out that he's a friend of our neighbors across the street.

His moral of the story is "check your* &^%$#@ mirrors. My moral of the story is to be pleasant and discuss the situation in an appropriate manner. And get the heck out of my driveway.

2011-01-21T14:16:00.000-06:00

I woke up this morning to warm breath in my face and a voice that asked, "Mama, do you have to go to work AGAIN?" After I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes (it was only 5:45 a.m.) I replied, "Yes, Murray, I do have to go to work today." With tears in his eyes, a pout on his lips, he asked, "But why, Mama?" "I have to go to work so that I can make money to buy food and clothes and do fun things, I said." With that, he cheered right up, took me by the hand and exclaimed, "Get in the shower, Mom, time to get to work." Craig was outside the door laughing; who better to tell me to go to work than a 3-year-old?

It's been a busy week, but isn't it always? I love it. I love being busy, feeling productive, and even the challenges. But the best part, despite the crazy, is appreciating the peace and quiet once in a while.

Happy weekend! May you find a few moments to find some "you" time. And I hope you can enjoy it by the fire place with a good book.

A Night With Emily

2011-01-18T17:05:00.000-06:00

Please pop over to Peace Garden Mama for an adventure that we shared. She writes about our magical evening so eloquently; I didn't feel I could do it justice here. Trust me, this is a must-read.

Progress

2011-01-17T15:47:00.000-06:00

Craig attended his first physical therapy appointment this morning and came home with a list of stretches to do twice daily. The plan is to stretch the muscles around the broken vertebrae, and then next week, begin strengthening (hopefully) those muscles. The next CT Scan is scheduled for February 9, at which time we hope to be done with doctors and therapists and get back to normal. He is allowed to take his brace off for one hour/day, increasing time every other day. Slow and steady wins the race.

There are some positive outcomes (as with anything negative that happens) to Craig's injury. Since Craig broke his back, I've learned how to jump-start a car (Peace Garden Mama and I accomplished this as a team, more to come on that story), I'm navigating the icy roads like a pro, today I ran the snow blower, and tonight I have to fill in as fry cook helping the Sons of the American Legion. I like this feeling of independence. I'm ready for more!

Today I:

2011-01-15T23:07:00.000-06:00

Woke up with Murray at five a.m., coaxed him back to sleep between Rudy, Craig and I; slept until eight a.m.; went to my manicure appointment; took Murray to swimming lessons, dunked him five times; visited with Jon and Troy and Craig; repeatedly demanded/pleaded that both boys go to sleep; had a fabulous afternoon/evening with family, held a baby for a long time; left dinner and dropped off a sleeping Murray; had another dinner with a dear friend; learned how to open the hood of our truck; jump started a vehicle with the help of said dear friend (no men involved), felt extremely empowered; cleaned up the garbage that the hounds got into while we were gone; fed said hounds cat food because I forgot to buy dog food; brushed dogs, and now, I think, I shall sleep. And that is just a tidbit of my Saturday. Insert yawn and snoring here. God Bless~

But I Have To Use The Facilities - The RugRat Story

2011-01-11T20:56:00.000-06:00

Please note: I wrote this post on the very evening of the event, but neglected to tell the story until now.

Here we go again. I sincerely hope I can relate the following story so that you'll find it as funny as the four of us involved did.

The "Rugrats We Love!" and Craig and I were on our way home from Wahpeton, ND to Fargo this afternoon. We had attended a funeral, for a very dear man and we were all feeling pretty blue. Several miles out of town, Mrs. Rugrat exclaimed that she needed a bathroom - soon. If you are unfamiliar with I-29, there are virtually no stops between the two cities (and if there were, we had already passed them). Tom Tom told us that the town of Colfax, ND was three miles ahead, so we decided to stop, thinking there MUST be a bathroom in a cafe, or bar, or something. Mr. Rugrat exited the interstate and by this time Mrs. Rugrat was about to burst. We passed the school, found a closed gas station, a closed bar, and a closed cafe. Finally, Mrs. Rugrat begged Mr. Rugrat to pull into the town's Post Office. She was that desperate. The Post Master wouldn't let her use the facilities, but told her to go across the street to the school. Mrs. Rugrat came running out the door, sprinting, literally, between two men who were visiting in the parking lot and headed into the school. The three of us were laughing so hard at this point that we could hardly breathe. Mr. Rugrat pulled into the school parking lot and while we waited, we imagined many scenarios. Would she be arrested? Get detention? Would someone call her mom?

Fortunately, Mrs. Rugrat came back, relieved and with no consequences. The best parts of the story? Apparently, bathroom emergencies happen often in the town of Colfax, so the Post Master sends people across the street to the school often to use the facilities. Also, when Mrs. Rugrat encountered the two men talking in the street, one of them yelled, "You just passing through?" and she replied, "YES, I HAVE TO GO PEE!"

Some Junior High boys directed Mrs. Rugrat to the restroom (after she told them to "hurry up, I have to pee!) so all is well that ends well.

I'm thinking that we need to road trip with the Rugrat's more often. Next time, for a happy occasion, and next time, we'll limit Mrs. Rugrat's liquids.

I know that this story would be even more funny if one of the Rugrat's posted it, but indeed, you get my version.

Thanks guys, for making a sad day a little better. I'm really glad you had a full bladder, Mrs. Rugrat. I'm sure Bill is laughing up there.

Rose Colored Glasses, Part II, Or Is It Part III?

2011-01-10T22:57:00.000-06:00

Apparently I should have my glasses adjusted. All things considered, well. . .read on.

Due to recent security breaches in the Internet world (the latest one lists your income and maps your home), I've decided to take some precautions. My Facebook page and this blog will no longer contain contact information, location, or anything else that should remain private. I was too brave and trusting (go figure) and have realized that for the security of my family, I will now be a bit more guarded.

On to new adventures. Despite a 13-hour day in my new role as Director of Annual Giving, I'm happy. I'm exhausted, yes, but it's a fulfilled tired. Our phone-a-thon had a super run tonight, even though we only had five callers. I'm challenged, but am also able to find my niche in this new position.

When I called home after supper tonight, Murray cried when I explained that I wouldn't be home until after his bed time, but I assured him that I would give him a kiss while he slept. I could just picture the crocodile tears streaming down his face. When I hung up the phone, I burst into tears too. We will all get used to this change, just as we have adjusted to other changes. Who keeps moving the damn cheese? But change is good and so is embracing each moment, one at a time; even if those moments aren't perfect.

Which. They. Have. Not. Been. Perfect. But you know what? Nothing is ever the way it seems and we all perceive situations differently. Rose colored glasses or not, I am, always have been, and always will be, an optimist. If my heart gets broken, well, at least it didn't get me down when I needed to fight. Maybe that makes me unrealistic and unwilling to face the truth, but when all is said is done, "this too, shall pass". The other thing? I respect the realistic point of view, but I'm just not capable of facing it until I've done everything I can to make sure that all is well. G - I hope you are reading and I hope you know how very much I love and respect you. We'll talk soon.

That said, good night, and "Be At Peace".
Ree

Yuck

2011-01-03T18:46:00.000-06:00

Please note: If you have a weak stomach, stop reading now. I'm only posting this for posterity.

I'm cold, I'm freezing, I'm tired, I'm exhausted. But I'm grateful. Make that blessed, grateful, and happy. We have a roof over our heads, good health, and a sweet-three-year old to love and many family and friends. And of course, the dogs and cat. But I wasn't so pleased with the latter yesterday morning.

We were dressed and ready to go to church (for a baptism that Craig was one of two Godfathers). As I was finishing my own preparations for the big day, I asked Murray to put his boots and coat on. He did so and a couple of minutes later, he came to me saying, "something stinks, mama. Pee-Yew." The smell hit me before I could look. What I discovered was Murray covered in (for lack of a better word) poop. Craig came running (well, not running, exactly, but moving as fast as a broken back will allow) after I began to gag, and together we realized that one of our animals had been sick and had an accident. In Murray's coat. And in his boot. We stripped Murray down, but by this time Craig was late for baptism, so he called the other Godfather to pick him up. In the mean time, I ran around begging our feces-covered little man not to touch anything, while looking for fresh clothes, coat, shoes, and washing my hands every 30 seconds or so. I couldn't find one of his tennis shoes (Rudy hides shoes), so I was frantically shoving his feet into last years' way-too-small shoes. That didn't work, so I was forced to clean the dirty boot, spray it with Febreeze and finally, we headed to church.

The baptism and Mass were absolutely beautiful and we made it in time. I was afraid that our fellow parishioner's would smell the boot, but no one complained, and many giggled when Murray burst into song with the choir.

Due to the weather, one of the Godmothers was unable to travel, so Murray filled in carrying the gifts; poopy boot and all. He was really quite proud.

Everything turned out in the end, and we had a beautiful day with family and friends celebrating Ava's baptism.

Moral of the story? Don't forget to make sure that the cat has access to his litter box. Oh, and always hang up your coat, even if you think it's in a safe place.

"It's Nasty Weather Out There" (From the Mouths of Babes)

2010-12-30T15:47:00.000-06:00

As I write this, we are in the midst of the worst blizzard that I've witnessed since the winter of 1997. There's a one-hundred car pile-up on I94 and visibility in the city is approximately 50 yards.

We are all home and safe, and I hope that all of you and yours are as well.

I looked out the window this morning and thought that the local meteorologists were confused about the forecast. I wasn't concerned about the weather, so I loaded up Murray, drove to daycare and arrived home with no trouble; despite the temps and wind. I ran some errands, and only an hour later, I walked to my car to find that the conditions were worse than I expected. I finished my stops and landed in a tired heap on the couch. At one-thirty, I looked outside and realized that I had better pick up Murray before the worst hit. Thirty minutes, blowing snow, and icy roads later, we arrived at home safely (seven miles round trip).

Some things I think about blizzards and the people who live here:
1: We are hearty people, and should be used to horrible conditions. I beg you, SLOW DOWN AND STOP TEXTING! If this is impossible, than please stay home.

2: If you are an employer and haven't let your staff leave, I find that absurd. Even the regional Law Enforcement is pleading for people to stay put; they can't respond to emergencies without risking their own lives.

3: For those of you who don't have a choice but to travel: Please, please drive with caution. The conditions are horrible and I would hate to hear of another accident.

As Murray said today, "It's nasty weather out there!"
Stay safe, warm, and alive,
M

Not a Partridge in a Pear Tree, But Even Better

2010-12-25T21:37:00.000-06:00

The following is just a a TINY sample of things I'm grateful for. Merry Christmas!
1: Einstein loves me (but that could be because I have been filling in as the food provider).
2: Both hounds like to wear the traditional red ribbon but were not excited about the candy cane headbands.
3: New windshield wipers are most awesome.
5: Christmas can still be exceptional, even if you are sad.
6: Kirby does not appreciate Christmas bows (insert hissing, growling and a major fit that was so not worth it).
7: Midnight Mass is fabulous (my first MM - we usually go Christmas morning).
8: Murray is blessed, but we can't fit his Christmas presents in our house. If you see a lot of debris on our street, it's because our house is bursting at the seams (that happens when you have 2 one-hundred pound dogs, a 20 pound cat and a three-year-old person).
9: Our home is my castle and it doesn't matter how large or small it is (but if you want to hire me a cleaning person, no objections here; I have the number of a great lady).
10: I bought three more dog beds so that Rudy, Nala, Kirby and Murray (yep, Murray too) would all have a warm, soft place to sleep (better on our floor than in the the bed kicking our heads).
11: I had no idea that Craig was so particular about his socks (eight years together, but it took a fall off the roof for me to discover this silly fact).
12: I am incredibly blessed; I have a roof over my head, food to eat, animals to love, and the best part? My family. Thank you, Craig, Mags, Dad, Murray and ALL OF YOU for making my life what it is.
God Bless, Ree

Lazy Days

2010-12-18T11:44:00.000-06:00

I'm having a lazy Saturday morning. I know that I MUST get this house in order before the end of the day, but I'm using the excuse that I can't use my hands for a few hours because I just had a manicure (but typing is obviously okay). Besides, Craig is resting, Murray is with the Grandparents, so that leaves me to some quiet time. I also have this ridiculous addiction to Edgemont, which airs on CW every Saturday. Ahhh....the beauty of "me" time.

Our shopping is nearly finished except for a few items to pick up tomorrow. As much as I dreaded black Friday (my first), it turned out to be worth it. The rest of the gifts have been purchased online, so I don't have to battle the crowds more than once. And believe me, once was enough.

My new Rumor Touch arrived yesterday. I had been using my sister's Blackberry, but I discovered that I am not, and never will be a fan of them. My new phone isn't as fancy, but it's user-friendly for someone like me, who is not tech-savvy.

So, a rather boring post today, but I just felt like writing. We continue to do well and are adjusting to our "new normal". Blessing for a very Merry CHRISTmas.

Clark W.: An Update

2010-12-14T14:19:00.000-06:00

We just returned from Craig's 2-week follow up appointment. He went in feeling confident that he would be back to work at least part-time. I had my doubts, but went with it.

The CT Scan showed no change in his injury. It was interesting to finally see the slides and disheartening to realize how serious this injury is. The good news is that he will recover. The bad news is that he is not allowed to go back to work until March 21 (at least), surgery is still a possibility, and his mobility will remain the same for the next 12-16 weeks. We are both disappointed but are grateful that this is not worse. We are well aware of how devastating spinal cord injuries can be and thank God every day that he'll be okay.

So it's time to break out the big guns. Instant Netflix, a purchase of an upgraded lap top that he'll be able to play Civilization on, and probably some different furniture/devices that will aid in his recovery. He just exclaimed, "This is horse crap, sweetie. I am never going on the roof again." I'm in complete agreement. The highlights of his day right now are watching "Let's Make a Deal", "Judge Joe Brown", and if he's really lucky, someone takes him out for lunch.

So, we're facing a slight road bump, but it's not a mountain or even a hill, and we'll get through this! Craig is resting after a long morning, and then I'll take him to see his boss and our human resources guru (God bless Ilene). Thanks for your support and prayers!

Oh - and by the way, Wade, Jon and Troy, get ready to take Murray to hockey on Thursday nights!
This message was officially approved by Craig Beckerleg, A.K.A. Clark W. Griswold.

I've Had it, and It's Only December

2010-12-12T18:00:00.002-06:00

I can't help it. I'm miserable. I hate winter, I loathe snow, and I don't understand the "hearty Midwest attitude". I would rather suffer through Chinese torture than have to put up with this weather. If I hear one more comment about how beautiful the snow is, I might be sick. I did not choose to live here, but I did choose my family (which is much more important than my misery) and so I will make an effort to be positive (after this post).

That said, I ventured out today to take Murray to see Santa (thank goodness for Astro-Start). It took all of fifteen minutes and we were back in the truck and on our way home. The whole experience was worth it only because Murray loved sitting on Santa's lap. A fuzzy picture and five dollars later we headed home to show Daddy.

Anyway, if we don't find jobs somewhere warm, I just might lose my mind. For those of you who think I've already lost it, you're right; I live in Minnesota. "Grumpy Old Men" makes this weather look fun. But that's Hollywood for you. Everything is perfect. The only great part about our state is lake season, but I can find water anywhere.

So hear I am, complaining about the weather, when most people that I know and love have many tragedies happening at the moment. I'm blessed with the health of my family and friends and for that, I'm grateful. Spring will come eventually and until then, you won't recognize me because I will be completely covered in blankets, hats, mittens, and scarves in triple layers with Astrro-Start at the ready.

Seasons Greetings!

The World is My. . . Crab

2010-12-08T22:44:00.028-06:00

I've been a bit crabby lately. It's no one's fault, just a simple matter of running in several directions at once. I have to calm down and take life one day at a time; eventually Craig will heal and I will sleep again. Mornings in our house have gone from routine to complete chaos. Take today, for instance. By the time I had us clean, dressed, the car warm, and out the door, I realized that the car seat needed to re-installed. It happens every time we need to have someone else pick up/drop off Murray at daycare. I don't know why I can't remember to take care of it the night before.

Craig is hanging in there, but the pain and boredom are wearing on him. He did four loads of laundry today(leaving him exhausted and in pain). Since he can't lift, I brought the clean baskets to him and he did the folding. I'm getting a pretty good laundry deal out of this mess.

Murray is, well, Murray. I miss him with these long hours, but I manage to find special moments with him in the morning and the evening. Things will settle down work-wise when the students go on break, so it won't be so many late nights until after Christmas break. I know it's for the best, and the best is all I can do.

On a final note, H family and YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, Craig almost fell off the couch and broke another vertebrae when he received your "Get Better Sioux" card. That said, I laughed, and I laughed, and then I laughed some more. I'm framing the card. Murray hasn't opened his present yet, but you will be hearing from him when he does. Lastly, H family (because I know MH, you are reading), we love your card, we love you, and we wish you the very best in the weeks ahead. Thanks for the super picture. You are in our prayers.

That's all I have for now. My couch is calling (because my bed is hosting an injured, snoring man). Until next time. . .

No Shirt, No Work

2010-12-07T21:30:00.000-06:00

On the ride home this evening, Murray pointed out where Craig works and the following discussion ensued:

Murray:     "Mama, Dad not at work?"
Me:        "No, Dad got hurt, remember?"
Murray:    "Oh, he fall off roof. He can't go to work 'cause he no shirt to put on." (insert silent laughter here).
Me:          "Why doesn't daddy have a shirt?"
Murray:    "Because he fell off the roof, MOM!"

After a lengthy discussion about getting hurt and getting dressed, we walked in the door and Murray cried, "DAD, you don't have a shirt but you can do dishes!" Oh, be still my heart. My son gets it.

I do my best to make sure that my husband is clothed, but he gets extremely hot while wearing his brace, so he wears a cotton tank underneath that the prosthetics company provided, and nothing over the brace.

For Heaven's sake. The boy is three years old. Where does he come up with his chatter? Peace Garden Mama has precious stories about her son's hysterical dialog and points out that we will miss these words and ideas before we know it.

Embrace the innocence!
P.S. Craig biggest concern is that he can't take Murray to open skate, as he starts MYH Tots in January. Volunteers needed! I'll be on the ice too, but I'm afraid my figure skating isn't up to teaching a three-year-old.

"They Keep Moving the Cheese"

2010-12-06T21:47:00.000-06:00

I'd like to begin by stating our utmost love and respect for the "F" family, you know that you are and will continue to be in our prayers. We're with you all the way.

The title to this post is taken from a an excerpt in the book, "Who Moved My Cheese?", an inspirational and phenomenal look at change in the workplace.

Today was my first day at the Foundation. Kim (whose job I will assume) is an amazing woman and an excellent trainer. I met some of the students that I will be supervising and am looking forward to meeting the others on Wednesday evening. I spoke with my soon-to-be boss today, and she and I will work on my job description as the month progresses. My initial responsibilities include coordinating the annual Phone-A-Thon and the Campus Campaign. Event planning is in the near future and I'm thrilled already at my new position. The staff at the Foundation is fantastic and I'm thrilled to be a part of the team. That said, I will miss my bosses and supervisors in the President's Office, but this is an amazing opportunity. The chips landed in such a way that I just know that God is with me (not to mention all of those who went to bat for me).

Craig had his first outing today. I drove Miss Daisy to his office and to Human Resources to complete some paperwork. I think he had fun getting out, but I know he was pretty sore and tired when I deposited him back at home. I feel so helpless; I'd rather it was me than him.

I didn't get to spend more than ten minutes with Murray tonight, but every second was precious. When I walked in the door tonight, he shouted, "Mama, you came back! You done with work? I missed you!" Words can't describe how my heart swelled. I am an incredibly lucky woman.

Thanks to Jon and Troy for providing food and company for Murray and Craig tonight while I was away. Everyone who has volunteered to help us out means a great deal, and don't be surprised if we take you up on your offers. The meals and help with Murray are a real blessing, especially with my work transition.

Many, many thanks to all.
Blessings,
M
P.S. Did you know that I despise, detest, and loathe winter?

Progress

2010-12-05T13:39:00.001-06:00

It's Sunday afternoon, and Craig and I are watching the Vikings; finally a fun game to watch.

Craig is hanging in there, but I fear what boredom will do to him. Last night he couldn't sleep, so he sent me to the couch. It apparently didn't help, because he's tired today. He's also getting a tad ornery, but I can't blame him. It must be terrible to be stuck on the couch or in bed all day for this long (and he still has at least another week). He told me today that his goal was to have his brace off by January 9th, because that's when Murray's first hockey season begins. I wanted to tell him that even if his brace is off by then, he won't be taking to the ice any time soon. I just didn't want to dash his hopes; anything is possible.

In the mean time, I'm attempting to keep up with the housework, but hit I a road bump on Thursday night. For some reason strange reason, my right calf spasmed and I could hardly walk for two days. It's better now, though a little sore, but at least I'm functional again. I'm thinking it was probably nerves. So it seems that with every step forward, I take two back. My sister walked in the door yesterday and said, "What happened to your house? You write about cleaning all the time!" I've gotten to the point of realizing that our home isn't going to be perfect any time soon, or maybe ever. It's sanitary, but there is just "stuff" everywhere. So, if you come over for a visit, I'm apologizing in advance now.

Anyway, we're going to finish watching the Vikings and then it's off to a family dinner, which I'm looking forward to. Craig hasn't been out of the house since the accident, and though he would love to join us, he's home bound. Thanks to the H family in advance for bringing dinner tonight.

Tomorrow is my first day of training at what will become my new job in January. I'm very excited!

Happy Sunday, Monday will be here before we know it.

Downs and Ups

2010-12-04T18:44:00.001-06:00

PLEASE NOTE: THIS POST WAS WRITTEN ON WEDNESDAY I APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY.

Have you had a day when you just know, without a doubt, that God is with you?

I spent the morning at home with Craig to observe his independence level.  Craig isn't allowed to shower without an adult in the house because it's one of the two instances that he can remove his brace. This scares me silly. Clark G. (a.k.a. Craig) requested a BLT for lunch, so this morning I cooked the bacon and then realized that I needed to move the remaining ingredients to the top shelf of the fridge. He can't bend, so I have to think ahead, but I'm working on making life a bit easier. Today, his first day alone without nurses or me, he managed pretty well.

This is where it gets crazy.

Last Tuesday, I was gently (and tearfully) informed by President Edna that due to the economy, my temporary job would end on January 4th, 2010. She offered references, help finding a job, and letters of recommendation.  What a compliment! I was devastated, but I do understand what the budget crisis in Minnesota is doing to the MnSCU institutions.
I hesitated to say anything to anyone. I needed to process and think things through. I completely forgot about the situation when Craig got hurt; obviously, work was the least of my concern.

I walked into work at 11:30 a.m today and was greeted with smiles, welcome backs, and many "how is Craig?" It was so worth it; beautiful to realize how much human nature is kind, compassionate and caring.

About 30 minutes later, I was asked  to see the VP for the Alumni Foundation. After she closed the door, she explained that one of her best employees was leaving, and asked if I would be interested in taking a modge podge of responsibilities. I accepted.   I will be mainly handling events and some fund raising (the Phone-A-Thon) and whatever else they send my way. I'm thrilled, excited and eager to learn. I will do what is needed and beyond; I'm tickled!.

It's been a roller coaster of a week. My goal for the weekend is to finish the housework (I did get the floors scrubbed, dusted, and the cleaned the bathroom, but the bedrooms are another story). I also hope to make several dishes that can be frozen into small portions for Craig (and me for work). Recipes welcome!

Craig is healing slowly, but surely adapting. He is bored to tears, and I can't blame him. When he looks forward to laundry, I know without a doubt that I have to get creative.

Miracles DO happen

2010-12-02T22:11:00.000-06:00

I'm not quite ready to share my news, but when I am you'll find it here,

Until then,
M

Home Sweet Home

2010-11-30T16:45:00.000-06:00

I just got Craig settled on the couch, although he won't sit still. Imagine that. He's thrilled to be home and thinks he should go blow snow. The doctor made it very clear that he is under no circumstances to work, drive or lift. He can take his brace off at night or for a quick shower but that's it. He is to be on his back and taking frequent but brief walks.

The plan is to see Dr. Eichler again in two weeks for another C.A.T. scan and follow-up check. This should determine if the brace is working or if surgery will be required. He also hopes to return to work in the physical form at that time. Either way, he will have 4-6 weeks of physical therapy after the brace is off and/or surgery (pray no surgery).

In the mean time, I am gong to finish housework so he can move around when he needs to without tripping on anything, and so that I can pull the extra weight while he's on bed rest. I'm sure that Craig agrees with me that pain meds are a gift; the combination of the three help immensly.

I can't send enough thank you's to everyone who has visited, called, emailed, texted, taken care of Murray, and everything else I can't remember at the moment. I know that God, friends and family will get us through. Besides, Craig never lets me take care of him when he's sick, but now he has no choice. Think "Misery"; insert evil cackle here.
Thanks again and blessings.
Craig, Marie and Murray

Clark Griswold - An Update

2010-11-29T12:12:00.000-06:00

First of all, a HUGE thank you to our friends and family for the support. Your thoughts and prayers mean the world.

I arrived at the hospital this morning to find a weary Craig and the news that he would not be released today. We hope for tomorrow, but it could be Wednesday. The L1 vertebrae is broken, and 30% compressed on one side (he shrunk). This means that he'll wear a brace for 4-6 weeks; hopefully avoiding any surgery. He was measured by the nice man from Hangar, and are praying that the that the brace will arrive tomorrow. When we get home, he will need to be flat on his back for two weeks, after which time he hopes to back to work. He will only be allowed to sit up for 45 minutes at a time, and then will either stand up or lie down (flat again). I think I'll get him a cot for his office for Christmas.

I left him in the good hands of the Fink's and hope to get some housework done so that I will be organized for his homecoming. He was in good spirits (laughter, hydrocodone and strong muscle relaxers did the trick) when I left and now I hope he'll nap for awhile.

In all of the hoopla last night, Troy took Murray home so I could be with Craig. Stef had us in fits of laughter recalling the events of the evening. Apparently, he walked in the door, took his coat off, looked at Stef with a deadpan expression and said, "My Dad fell off the roof. They might shoot him." Stef changed the subject and they did the laundry. Apparently we need to have some discussion about guns. We hope to have him visit the hospital this evening, depending on how the day goes.

Again, thank you to everyone for offers of help and support. I'm as calm as I am because his injuries could have been so much worse, and I'm thankful that he will prevail.

Slippery Slopes

2010-11-28T20:46:00.000-06:00

Please note: If this post sounds a bit hysterical, it's because I am. Humor me, please.

Last weekend, before the snow hit, Craig and I hung the Christmas lights on the house. All went pretty well, except that when he got to the peak of the roof, he slipped and was hanging from the gutter. Luckily, I was able to brace us both and helped him down before we both hit payment. After the scare, I proclaimed that there would not be lights this year. He agreed.

We had a very nice holiday, though we missed my family members. I even went black Friday shopping and survived with only a scuffle and a bruised shin.

Murray has been asking to build a snowman ever since the first dusting of the hateful white stuff. Today, it was finally sticky enough to go out and build the best snowman on the block. The three of us were rolling snow into different sized balls, when Craig asked me if he should finish the lights. I said no, but Murray replied with an enthusiastic yay! So Craig climbed the ladder and not 2 minutes later, I heard an expletive and looked over to watch him twisting in the air from twelve feet above, and landing in a heap. As terrified as I was, I assumed he had the wind knocked out of him and would be fine when he caught his breath. Three minutes later, that was clearly not the case. He refused medical attention and Craig being Craig, insisted we finish the damn snowman while he laid in the snow in agony. I finally coaxed him out of the heap and into the house, when he promptly asked for pain meds(the man won't even take an aspirin). That was when I decided this was extremely serious and called Troy and Stef, followed by 911. The ambulance was here in less time than it took me to call them, and off he went on a stretcher, away from his hysterical wife and in enormous pain. The entire time, I was a hot mess and Murray was asking Troy if the Paramedics were going to shoot him (too much tv, I say).

Craig spiked a fever at the hospital, and after X-rays and a C.A.T. Scan were performed, it was determined that indeed, his back was broken. The L7 was the vertebrae in trouble. Our hopes are that he will be in a brace for 3-4 months, but surgery could still be required. We'll know more in the morning when the specialist arrives.

In the mean time, he's whacked on pain meds and going to be knocked out most of the night (the doctor said the pain would get worse). I am home with the dogs, and Murray is with family so that I am free to head to the hospital again after a few hours sleep.

Please pray for him, or if you aren't the praying type, positive vibes sent our way would be appreciated. I'll update tomorrow. Have I told you that I hate snow?

Love you honey - see you soon.

Conversations with Angels

2010-11-24T09:59:00.005-06:00

We speak candidly and often to Murray about my late mom, Grandma Kathy. He can recognize her in pictures, knows details about her life, and he knows that she is in Heaven. A recent conversation went something like this (I actually had to write it down so that I wouldn't forget):

Murray: "Look, mama, it's you and Grandma Kathy!"

Me: "Yes, that is Grandma Kathy and mama."

Murray: "Grandma Kathy died? She in Heaven?"

Me: "Yes, Grandma Kathy is in Heaven. Even though we can't see her or talk to her, she

is with God watching over us" (tears well, I start to sniffle).

Murray: "Mama, she an angel. She say it's OK, she told me" (bursts into "Twinkle Twinkle",

which he sings to anyone who is sad).

Me: Speechless, now my tears are flowing freely.

This three-year-old wisdom astounds me. I don't really know if he gets it, but his thoughts and actions are such a comfort to me. I love that he's growing up to be such a gentle, sensitive, caring boy; the angels get all the credit.

I'll leave you with a picture from the first snowfall of the season; a whopping 12.5 inches in less than 24 hours.

Bath Time

2010-11-15T14:20:00.001-06:00

L.O.V.E

2010-11-12T14:19:00.004-06:00

Last night when you arrived home, you sat down next to me and made me feel better. We bundled up and watched the stars while you held your hand in mine.

You snuggled up to me in the wee hours of the morning and held me tight, just when I need you most.

Before I went to work today, you gave me a kiss and a smile and said, "have a good day."

When I see you again, it will be the very best part of my day.

This is motherhood. This is pure love.

Every Prince Should Have a Castle to Call Home

2010-11-10T15:02:00.003-06:00

It's always interesting when Craig decides to go shopping. You never know if he'll come home with a new laptop, dog toys, or some crazy scheme to improve "life as we know it." So when he came home on Saturday from a trip to Fargo (he actually crossed the river), I wasn't a bit surprised with his purchases. As you can see, he bought a "castle" for Murray, complete with the plastic balls and tunnels to crawl through. The look on Murray's face was priceless. We ended up squeezing the contraption into his bedroom and it's now his favorite hang-out/play/sleep spot. He even likes to have his snacks and read books in his "castle".

Murray has been wielding the camera again (JP #3, Stef?). Samples of his work:

Boot Camp

2010-11-08T10:05:00.004-06:00

5:00 a.m.
Murray: "Mama, I sleep in your bed?"
Craig and I simultaneously: "No, go back to your own bed until it's wake time."
Murray: "WHAAAAA! I sleep in your bed!"
Craig: "We said no, and when it's wake time we'll come and get you".
Murray: Sounds of stomping back to his room, crying the entire time. He goes back to
bed. . . until. . .

6:00 a.m.
Murray: "It's wake time! Can I have cookies?"
Me: "Not for breakfast, let's find something else to eat before cookies".
Murray: "I WANT COOKIES, MAMA!"
Melt down ensues. Cookies not granted.

This is just a sample of what the weekend was like. We are dumbfounded; what happened to our normally thoughtful, polite child? He was bossy, his manners non-existent, and whiny. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Murray is a very stubborn little boy. Even when we've made it clear that the discussion is closed, he doesn't give up. He'll sit in time out and yell at us as we pretend to ignore him. We thought we were strict, but Murray's behavior of late is proves that we haven't been strict enough. Therefore, 2-year-old boot camp has commenced. We can, and will, take away his birthday party if we have to. Sound harsh? Maybe, but as parents, we are responsible for raising a good, kind, human being. If a strong(er) hand is what it takes, so be it.

Three Years Ago Today - Gone From My Site

2010-11-03T09:17:00.003-05:00

I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship, at my side, spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strenghth.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white coud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone".

Gone where?

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast, hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her dimished size is in me - not in her.
And, just at he moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"there are other eyes watching her coming and other voice ready to take up the glad shout,

"Here she comes!"

And that is dying. . .

Death come in its own time, in its own way.
Death is as unique as the individual experiencing it.

---Anonymous

God Bless you, Mom. We miss you.

Mish Mash

2010-11-02T12:26:00.003-05:00

This was taken at the end of the night at my Aunt and Uncle's house. Doesn't he look cozy? I love the way his ankels are crossed. Milk in a fancy glass, a bowls of cheetos, a comfy chair and a great tv show. Who could ask for more? Scooby and M trying to soothe an angry lion:

Scooby, lion and M:

Scooby Doo and M, ready to go:

Not sure what exactly is happening here. . .

On another note, Stefanie started a blog to update everyone on Miss Ava. Check out this beautiful addition to the Fink family by clicking here. Congratulations!

Grandma Kate and the M&M

2010-10-28T10:53:00.009-05:00

When I was growing up, store-bought costumes were unheard of. Mom would spend evenings and free time sewing everything from Minnie Mouse to a very professional looking Nurse costume. Sometimes, she would get stuck, or run out of time. Though we lived 10 hours away, Grandma Kate would always come to the rescue; whipping up the last piece for the perfect costume and popping it in the mail.

The first two years of Murray's life, we didn't go trick-or-treating, instead choosing to stay home and pass out candy to the neigborhood kids. Last year, I gave in and purchased a pretty cute Candy Corn costume. This year, though, I just couldn't bear the thought of him wearing a store-bought costume (after all, it's tradition in my family to wear homemade). I did some research, picked out an idea, purchased my materials, called my Grandma for instruction, took a deep breath, and sat down to begin my project. After approximately 30 seconds of staring at the copious amount of fabric I'd purchased, I picked up the phone and and invited myself to Grandma's house so that she could "help" me.

I should preface this with the fact the my Grandmother is a brilliant seamstress (and multi-talented too). She can create clothing that would make Ralph Lauren weep with envy. I arrived on her doorstep with all of the materials I thought we'd need, but without a pattern. She quickly fashioned one out of newspaper, we pinned it on my fabric, and I (sloppily) cut it out. Then I basted the seams (kind of), and that is where I stopped working and started watching. In no time at all, Grandma had created this:

This is not a great picture, because of the way Murray is standing (it looks like he has wings). In reality, he's dressed in white pants, a white turtleneck (the white hat and gloves will come later). On top of all that, is a perfectly round, red M&M in soft fleece (did I mention she free-handed the "M"?). I hope to get some better pictures on the big day. Here we are heading out the door:

Murray acting the part of photographer:

When all is said and done, I can thread a needle, but the buck stops there. Thank goodness for Grandma Kate; Murray probably would be at home passing out candy to the other kids had she not saved my behind. I guess sewing isn't like riding a bike; it's been too long since seventh-grade home economics class. I better get started on next year's costume. . .

Rename That Blog

2010-10-19T15:47:00.003-05:00

I just checked my blog to see if I had any comments to post (sadly, none) when I realized that it's time to change my subtitle. You see, as of mid-June, I officially entered my thirties, which means that I'm no longer a "20-something new mom". But even though I'm not in my twenties anymore, I still consider myself a new mom. After all, every day brings new parenting challenges, and besides, Murray is only our first in what we hope will become a brood.

Any ideas? Throw me a bone. . .I could use some creative assistance.

Dragon Pride

2010-10-18T16:02:00.004-05:00

We celebrated Dragon Home Coming last week. I decided that we should enter the office decorating contest.

In case you are wondering, the photo to the left means: The Dragons will Dam the Beavers. I thought it was very clever, but apparently the committee didn't.

Below: Student helper's desk

To the left is the volleyball team, surrounding a photo of our four living presidents. Below is the football team.

Left: From my desk looking out.

Can you belive we didn't win?

Duwoof

2010-10-11T16:13:00.011-05:00

Last weekend, Craig had a conference in Duluth, MN. Duluth being one of my top five favorite cities, Murray and I decided to tag along. Following is a synopsis of our "adventure in Dulwoof" (Murray's words)

Day One:
Hop out of bed and hit the pool. Murray was out the door wearing only (yes, only) tennis shoes before I could fully open my eyes. After reigning him in and getting dressed, we swam for a good couple of hours, played in the arcade, and then it was back up to the room to dress for lunch.

We treated ourselves to a delicious lunch and breath-taking view at the JJ Astor, the hotel's roof-top revolving restaurant. After that, it was off for a long nap.

After nap, we had time before Craig was finished with meetings for the day, so we decided to visit the aquarium. Although I've grown up with fresh water fish, there were many exciting species that were new, and besides, every thing about the aquarium thrilled Murray.

Craig met us after our aquarium adventure for a walk on the beach; stopping along the way to watch the bridge rise and let the ships go under. We had a fantastic Italian dinner at down-town Bellisio's. We all fell into bed; all five senses having been stimulated to the max.

Day Two:
Murray and I were exhausted, so we slept in, ate a late breakfast and walked a block south to board the Northshore Scenic Railroad, which took us to the edge of the city and back. One of Murray's greatest loves are trains, so you can only imagine his delight at the prospect of riding on a real train. His eyes were round as saucers, and when the whistle blew, he joined in with a merry "WOO WOO"!

One of the advantages of having a two-year-old is that they still need naps. So after our train excursion, we headed back to our cozy room for a long rest.

Craig finished his convention shortly after we woke, so we met some friends for dinner, and took another walk to watch the ships come and go at night. Beautiful!

Day Three:

Finally, family day. We decided to drive north. I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story (unfortunately, we forgot the camera in the car when we were at Lutsen).

When it was time to leave on Monday morning, Murray and I both had tears when we drove away from Duluth. At one point, our little traveler even tearfully exclaimed, "I want to go b-back to Duwoof!" Me, too, Murray, me too.

Murrayisms-Update

2010-10-05T16:17:00.008-05:00

Murray's latest vocabulary:

"Oh man!" (when something is just unbelievable)

"Oh DARN IT!" (if he has made a mess)

"Daddy, light is green, you can go." (pretty obvious)

"Stupid Daddy!" (he said it once and I guarantee, he'll never say it again)

"Don't forget the M&M's, Mama." (very nonchalantly while Craig and I were making a grocery list and we assumed he wasn't paying attention)

"I wanna go back to Duwuth, pwease?" (big crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks while driving away from the big "yake")

"I'm going swimming!" (this, at 7am; Murray walking out the hotel room door wearing only underwear and shoes; Craig and I still in bed)

"Hey, what's that?" (every five seconds)

"Nawa, kenn up!" (asking Nala to stop barking "kennel up" is her command to stop, but it rarely works)

"Mama, sing garage song, pwease? "(he is referring to Bed of Roses by Bon Jovi; yes, I do sing rock, country, classics as well as nursery rhymes, i.e. Winken, Blinken and Nod - I like to mix it up, even though every one I know other than Murray begs me to sing "SoLo")

We hear so many new words, phrases, and confusing sentences from Murray every day that we are amazed at the ability of a soon-to-be three to think, act and speak as we do. Of course, we think he's a genius, but when all is said and done, we know how completely conceited we are.

Here's to celebrating children. What better gift could God bless us with?

The Noisiest Birds On the Block

2010-09-22T13:28:00.003-05:00

Lately, every morning, just before dawn, we are greeted by the very noisy call of some obnoxious birds. In fact, these so-called feathered friends are so loud that one day Murray woke up, climbed on his bed to look out the window and cried, "What's going on out there?!" This rude awakening prompted me to do some Googling. Here's what I found:

The bird in question is known as the Common Grackle. They are longer than a blackbird and smaller than the American Crow. They eat anything and love to congregate in trees and make people's lives miserable with their early morning parties.

After several crack-of-dawn observations, I've come to the conclusion that the Grackles are holding a sort of religious ceremony. The leader begins with a long, solo, cackle which includes variation in tone, pitch and timbre. When he/she is finished, hundreds of others reply by screeching as loud as they can; each seem to have a different call. If the leader goes on too long, his/her "congregation" cuts him/her off, only to cause a cacophony of very angered birds. I've noticed that they'll retreat only when you've finally managed to fall asleep again and just a few seconds before the alarm goes off.

Sheesh, and I thought the cat was annoying in the morning.

Has anyone else experienced the attack of the Grackles?

Dear Mom, It's Me, Marie

2010-09-02T09:46:00.008-05:00

Warning: This is a pretty maudlin post, so if you aren't in the mood to feel down or cry, don't read it. Some may say that it's inappropriate, but it's my blog, and my blog is my therapy, so I'm posting it anyway.

Dear Mom, it's me, Ree,

I woke up this morning thinking of you; wishing that I could feel your arms around me just one more time. Oh, how I would give anything for a hug and a conversation. Since I couldn't speak to you, I did what you've always told us to do when we're far apart: I wrapped my arms around myself and pretended it was you. And then I pondered how things would be different if you were still here. If Heaven had an airline, I would be on the next flight. I pose the following questions knowing that you can't answer me in person, but with the faith that you are answering in spirit.

What would you have done when Murray woke up at 5:30am this morning demanding to watch a movie? (we said no)

How would you have reacted when he threw an enormous temper tantrum when I said "no"? Lord knows, you've dealt with more than your fair share of tantrums when Maggie was Murray's age and when I was Maggie's (current) age. Ha! (we took the dvd player away and let him cry it out)

What would you say if I asked you how to make french dips for the millionth time? We're craving them and although you wrote the recipe for me, it would be so much easier just to call you. (You'd laugh and patiently explain every step and detail)

Did you know that our phone bill has decreased by 50% since November 3, 2007? I miss our multiple daily chats more than I could ever have imagined. (although Craig used to complain, even he wishes our phone bill was high again)

What would you tell me to do if I called and said that I'm sad? (you would probably tell me to look around and find something, anything, to be happy about, even if it's the dead of winter)

What would you say to Murray if you could speak to him? (my guess is that you would tell him how much you love him and you would teach him things that only Grandma's can)

What would you say to Craig if you could speak to him? (I think you'd tell him that he's doing a fine job as a husband and father and that you are proud of him)

What would you say if you could speak to Mags? (OH, so many things, but mostly how proud of her you are and that she's turned into a fabulous woman)

Do you visit us in our dreams? (I think so)

What's Heaven like? How's God? How's Mary? (I don't have an answer for this one, but my guess is that everyone up there is watching out for you, for us, for our loved ones)

I have so many more questions, but I think you get the idea, Mom. How would we all be different if you hadn't gotten sick? I heard a quote the other day: "God makes no mistakes." It struck me dumb because even though I'm horrified that you're gone, I have to keep reminding myself that you really aren't gone, that you are with Him.

In a conversation with Grandma Kate while I was in labor with Murray, I started to cry and asked how I could possibly be a good mom without your help. Her answer was simple. She said, "Marie, she's already taught you to be a mom; by raising you!" So though your life was infinitely too short, I am so blessed to have had you for the time that I did. We all are.

I love you mom.