score

It was a great weekend.

rake jump rake jump rake jump repeat

St. Vinnie's score, hand-me-down treasure, and long underwear with a cape and boots

"Nurse me in the penguin."

And now I discipline myself to refrain from raiding the plastic pumpkins that sit atop the fridge.

(I sense a fall-themed photo-heavy post coming soon to a blog near you. As in, this one. Just so you know.)

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found me

I've been acting like a silly girl all week

when people tell me

peek...

you're much less stressed

I can feel it in your energy

and I think

(with a pout)

so you're saying I've been a crab?

a...

I think from now on I'll just smile and say

Thank you.

boo!

:::

By the way, I've only got one more month with a one-year old in the house. Although Mr. Axel Levi has been telling us he's two for months. Thankfully, the older boys and I are in cahoots to keep him a baby forever.

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(you're welcome)

There is only one me, I am it.

for my boys. and myself.

(and you.)

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where I've been

I feel like an evergreen amid the maples, I told her. While it seemed everyone around me was heading into new seasons and blazing brilliant yellows and reds, I felt a steadfast and sturdy green. All my creative energy has been honed in sure and steady on one focal point for months, and certainly weeks, so that at the end of the workday when I'd sit with notebook or laptop open, I came up empty.

What a difference [the meeting of] a deadline can make.

:::

There is a grey leather captain's chair in the corner of my livingroom. It's been there for a month. (In related news, my dog has been riding in the cabin of the minivan.) Finally, last week when my family was visiting, I opened it up and we started using it as additional seating. We don't have a garage, and it hasn't made it's way to the basement, but it may now have a new home.

Today I put away the laundry and suitcases that have been stacked in the back of the hall since...I honestly can't remember when. Months. (That's plural.) An hour later, Eli walked past and did a double take: "Mama, why does the back of the hall look funny?"

I cooked dinner last night - from scratch. I used to cook most nights of the week. But since June? I could probably lob off a finger or two and still count on two hands the number of evenings I've broken out the cutting board and chopping knives. It was good - my famous 'Blast Your Head Off' Mexican Casserole. It's not really a casserole, but I don't know what else to call it.

Owen in October

:::

I turned it in. 250 pages+ over to the copy editor and graphic designer. I cannot believe how many words I have read, written, and edited over the last several months. How many checks and double checks and revisions and new sidebars and case studies I have pulled together. But last week Tuesday I pulled a deep, wide breath through my lungs and when I let it out the weight of the world rose off my shoulders and blew off into the wind. I'll be working minimally - consulting with the designer until this baby is released in a few months, but for the most part - my work on the project is complete. I am tired, I am proud, I am glad I've made it through.

I'm thrilled to have landed a new gig - 60% time at the university managing a really sweet program called the Climate Leadership Challenge. If you're interested in green or sustainable innovation, check it out. I even have an office with a door! I like to leave it open.

Black-eyed Baddass

:::

Can I tell you how lovely it is to leave work at work? To put the kids to bed at night and snuggle up with my husband and a movie? We've been loving our Netflix 'watch instantly' feature, and I know I haven't been around lately, but my husband is a hell of lot sexier than this laptop.

Today felt like a down comforter. I spent the morning with my oldest - he came with me to teach the kids program at church (while daddio stayed home with the snot-machines) and then we grabbed lunch, just the two of us. We popped into the Co-op, and he requested sushi and a bubble water (raspberry klarbrunn, to be precise) and I had a coffee. He let me have all the wasabi. We sat at the counter looking out the windows at the rain and topped off our date by sharing the mint fudge brownie.

I sidled up to Eli in the giant corduroy beanbag to watch Cars. Just the two of us. I squeezed and smooched him the entire hour and a half. I love that movie. I cry every time I see King flip and crash and McQueen stop short and go back to push him across the finish line. Every time. I absolutely revel in having the time to waste away an hour or two with a spontaneous afternoon movie. Eli's getting a little cold, and he watched the whole thing with his head on my chest and his legs draped over my lap. That bean bag has got to be the best furniture investment we've made.

I took a break from putting away all of the laundry (from the hallway) to play hide and seek and pretend sleep with Axel. He's such a chatterbox. All of my boys have spoken early and often, but Axel is speaking in paragraphs, with near perfect grammar and proper pronoun usage. It bowls us over. He continues to be a dreamy little delight of a child. And the kid can wield a light saber with incredible balance and precision. He'll be two in one month and four days. My baby.

Axel in the afternoon

:::

I have several friends who had their first babies when I had my third. And surprise surprise - they're announcing pregnancies left and right. I get a bowling ball drop-to-the-gut on a monthly basis (hello hormones!) as it hits me that we're [probably] done. (See how I qualified that?) I cannot see a baby boy without my heart simultaneously rising to my throat and plunging into my belly. But today (shhh...don't tell my husband) as I watched Cars with Eli, the animated landscape of the southwest reminded me of all the amazing camping trips and mountain biking trails John and I took on before kids. And it hit me how fun it will be to get our boys out there on more strenuous trails and harder-core camping trips than the in-state, car-camping excursions we take now. I saw us. The five of us, and it made me smile. We are full, so so full. I would welcome another in a heartbeat, but if I don't, I will still be full.

:::

During my little laptop hiatus, my hubby and I have been doing a little plotting. Now I just made it pretty clear there won't be a pregnancy announcement coming from me, but we may be working on birthing something else in a couple of months. Let's just say I am now calling him my creative co-conspirator and business partner. We've taken some first steps and I can't wait to be able to tell you more. (how's that for a teaser?) So stay tuned.

Good stuff, people. Real-life in this incredible physical world I'm living is full of good, good stuff. I hope yours is, too.

(p.s. I'm honored to have one of my essays featured on Story Bleed. They have recently made-over their look and brand [formerly Blog Nosh] and will be putting out a quarterly print version of their magazine, too. Check them out and dig through the archives for some of the best writing you can find online.)

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part of us

The big picture is always more than we can share in these spaces,

and so what we reveal instead

is just a tiny little part of us.

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Army of Women - for Shirley

On July 22, 2008 my Aunt Shirley died of breast cancer. She was my mother's older sister. She was a very gifted artist, watercolors were her specialty. Not only was she gifted with this talent, she had the spunk and sense of humor to teach middle schoolers how to paint and draw and create all sorts of art themselves. Aunt Shirley had a fabulous sense of humor, with a knack for reducing anyone in her presence to belly laughter, complete with tears streaming down their faces. She particularly had this effect on her sisters, her mother, and her daughters.

She loved her native Rocky Mountains, and was treasured by her husband - Uncle Roger; her daughters Ali, Kris and Katie; her sisters - Renie and Susie; and her mom, my Grandma Flo. (Not to mention a pile of nieces, nephews, extended family and friends.) Her father, my Grandpa George passed a decade before her, and the rest of us all are still missing both of them today.

Shirley's passing inspired my mom -- her sister -- to move beyond the symbolic support of pinning a pink ribbon to her coat and actually do something to contribute to the fight against breast cancer. My mother - Lorene - signed up with the Army of Women to participate in a study, and she shares her experience with us here, as an encouragement to all of you reading to SIGN UP TODAY to help make a difference in this fight for a cure, the fight for prevention.

:::

Lorene's story:

After my sister died of cancer, I happened to be watching TV and saw an interview with Dr. Susan Love. She was asking for volunteers for certain studies to help conquer breast cancer. I went online and applied to take the "sister study". They have several studies going, but I qualified for this one since I was healthy and had a sister who died from breast cancer.

They sent me several forms to fill out and instructions on what would be done. Many of these questions had to do with my environment while I was growing up. This of course would have been the same as my sister. I had to take dust samples from various places in my current house and a few other chores. Nothing was hard to do. When a nurse came to the house, she took a blood sample, and did a few other tests. They sent some followup questions, and once a year I get a questionaire to fill out about my health.

It was easy, and hopefully helpful.

:::

Please head over to Army of Women and check out their current projects, make a donation, or sign up to participate in their studies. From their site:

"There are many different types of studies. Some might require you to complete a questionnaire, while others might need a sample of blood, urine, saliva, breast fluid, or breast tissue. Some studies might be clinical trials testing a new detection marker or drug. You decide which studies you want to take part in."

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carry [on]

There are times we may look big and strong and tough

[at least big and strong and tough enough]

to handle life on our own two feet.

But some days are harder than others.

And I don't think

that we ever get so big

that it doesn't feel good

to be

picked up

and held close

and carried for as long as it takes

to feel right again.

me & my big lug 3.5 year old

(mei tai by babyhawk)

:::

Although this post is about much more than actual babywearing, I'm reposting (from 2-1-10) in honor of Steph's call to action in response to the recalls by the CPSC and subsequent spread of misinformation about baby carriers. I've worn all my babies well into kid-hood, and I'm happy to do my part to help other new moms choose safe, comfortable (and cute!) carriers to enrich their days/weeks/months/years of raising babies. I've used slings, pouches, wraps, mei tais, and soft-structured carriers, so feel free to pose any babywearing-related questions in comments and I'll get back to you if I can. Steph is also a good go-to. Just click over and poke around her site to find answers to the questions you have. She's hosting a link-up for people to post their favorite photos or stories about babywearing. These are some photos that came to mind immediately.

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#WritePink

Gramma Tuts

It's my only memory of her, and she's lying on the couch. I walk up and stand as high as the armrest. A short time later (days? weeks? months?), I walk into our family kitchen and see my dad, her son, sitting at the table. It's the first time I see him cry.

Aunt Shirley

I have her watercolors hanging in my livingroom. My mother's sister. Her contagious laugh, her quirky sense of humor, her kind heart and her artistic gifts. She fought, won, fought again, and we lost her. Survived by daughters, sisters, mother, and many more.

Aunt Mary

She always wore the greatest lipstick, and taught her daughters to do the same. My father's sister, lost decades after his mother. Her poems touched us all with humor and reflection through weddings and funerals alike. I can still hear her laugh if I close my eyes and listen.

Cousin Amy

A life lived far too briefly. Fight battle rest battle rest battle fight battle. Rest eternal, sweet cousin. Beautiful inside and out. A wife, a mother three times over. She was far too young.

***

I wanted to pour so much into this post, but I'm at a loss for words tonight. I've committed this month to Write Pink - I'm joining a host of bloggers today and many more over the course of the month in writing about breast cancer and how we can each play a role in preventing it and finding a cure.

I've signed up with Army of Women - a collaboration between the Dr. Susan Love Research Foundation and the Avon Army of Women - to help recruit ONE MILLION HEALTHY WOMEN to participate in research studies aimed to prevent breast cancer and to find a cure.

Signing up does not commit you to participate in any specific study -- instead you will receive information about studies for which you may be eligible. I urge you to sign up. Together, we improve breast cancer prevention and work towards finding a cure for this disease that touches far too many women.

I'm honored to be a part of the Write Pink campaign, and I'll be linking up with the ladies at Bigger Picture Blogs a few more times this month to spread the word about the Army of Women initiative.

Please do your part - sign up or spread the word.

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