Monday rambling

Well, here I am getting ready to take boy No. 2 (W) into the doctor with what I assume is strep throat. Hunter had it last week (along with an ear infection, poor kid), and now it appears it's made its way onto the next kiddo. We've gone a long time without anything major, illness-wise, so I'll just keep this in perspective. It can ALWAYS get worse.

And, in fact, life has been pretty good lately. Wilder is going through one of those periods when he seems to think the sun rises and sets upon me. He tells me he loves me about 10 times a day. He told me last night he wanted to marry me when he grows up (a little odd, I know, but I think this is a normal declaration for boys?). Yesterday, at the shoe store, he found this gigantic heart necklace that he was absolutely despondent that I wouldn't let him "buy" for me (I told him that my birthday is coming up and he and his papa would have to go shopping and he could pick me something out then). "But I love you so much, Mama ... I want you to have this big heart necklace!"

Just so darn sweet.

Not much else is going on. I'm hitting the home sites hard again looking for our future home. Discouraging. I know we'll find something, I just really want what I want this time (given that I hope we don't move again for many, many years) and am having trouble finding it. Actually, I did find the perfect house for us, but unfortunately I don't have a couple extra hundred thousand dollars lying around. Darn.

Oh well. Hard work will prevail. Seems to me it almost always does, and home-searching seems to be my second part-time job these days. So we'll see.

Gotta take the kid to the doctor. Signing off ...

Buddies ...

Here's a great picture of Hunter and his friend Peyton on the tire swing at the park yesterday.

More hiking in the snow

A link to some pictures from our latest hike.

Pretend games

Right now, as I type, the boys are playing one of their favorite games to play together. It involves gathering almost all the pillows and blankets in the house (including couch cushions, bed linens, etc. ... it'll take us quite awhile to return them to their original destinations later), and then making "beds" for themselves on the floor or elsewhere (right now, Hunter is on the floor and Wilder is on the train table).

I have no idea why this game appeals to them so much, or why it is they get along so well (mostly) whenever they play it. I guess it has to do with Wilder being happy to take the lead and play the "nurturer" who puts his little brother to bed, and Hunter being happy to be doted on by his big brother.

And I like it because they are quiet when they play it and, for the most part, they get along. Which, of course, doesn't always happen. They're pretty typical brothers in that they love each other immensely, but just can't seem to keep themselves from screwing with each other's heads most of the time.

Anyway, I just wanted to make this post so that, when they're 17 and 15 and doing whatever it is that boys that age do, I can remember that they played this little game. It's so sweet.

Brrrrrrr

Thirteen degrees outside (feels like 4 degrees with windchill) and the boys are out there romping in our snowy back yard. I have no doubt this will end with some tears, but for now, at least, they're having a ball. Oh, and Betty's out there, too. That dog loves her some snow.

UPDATE FOR PHOTOS:


Playing in the snow.


Wilder peering in the window at me.


The boys found this guy on our deck railing. I have a sneaking suspicion someone I'm married to put him out there to be found.

That's a lotta love

Wilder: "I love my Little Puppy very, very, very, very, VERY much. And I love YOU even more than that!"

Wherein I rediscover the beauty of loaned books

Here is a sight that warms my heart. It's Wilder and Hunter, totally immersed in their library books.

Now I'm embarrassed to admit this. I love words, love a well-crafted story, love illustration, love typography, love design. And I've NEVER taken my kids to the library. Well, there was that one time when Wilder was 1 and I took him to story time and he acted like a crazed psychopath on crack. But I've never taken my kids to the library to just pick out books, pour over them, hang out and smell that amazing smell that comes from having thousands of books in the same building. God I love that smell. When I walked into the library today I literally closed my eyes, smiled and inhaled as deeply as I could.

So now we live pretty much across the street from an amazing library. It's on the same campus as where the boys go to school, and it's been recommended to me by quite a few people. So today I finally decided that enough is enough -- all kids should grow up going to the library and experiencing the wonder that is checking out any book that tickles your brain fancy and taking it home for a week or two. When I was little, I remember my mom taking me and how I LOVED (like, "love" isn't even strong enough a word) to bring home a gigantic stack of books.

We had a great time, saw friends from school and left with 11 books and four movies. It's so great that you can get so many wonderful DVDs from the library now. I know, I know ... I'm late to this particular party, but my enthusiasm is nonetheless in the extreme.

So now I have my card, both the boys have their own library card and we are set up to go at least twice a week (the boys are signed up for library activities on Wednesdays and Thursdays).

Incidentally, one of the reasons they're so happily collapsed in our family room reading books right now is that I dragged them on a very long hike this afternoon. Wilder collapsed on the porch when we got home, proclaiming: "I'm EXHAUSTED!!" My job as a mother is done for the day (pretty much ... there is that part still where I have to feed them).

He loves me, loves me not

A few weeks ago, Hunter would hardly have anything to do with me. "Go away," he'd tell me when I tried to talk to him or cuddle with him. "I love Papa." Of course I hated it, but I knew it was a phase. Last week sometime he started telling me he loved me AND Papa (and sometimes he'd throw Wilder in there for good measure). And then this week, he's all about loving Mama again, sometimes even telling Jerry to go away and professing his love of me. Lately he's even been spontaneously professing his love for me out of the blue.

"Hiding" in bed under the covers. Whisper: "I love you Mama."

Coming up to lean against the computer chair as I work. "I love you, Mama."

Walking through the room I'm in. "Hey Mama ... I love you."

This morning, as Wilder is putting his coat on to go to school, Hunter asks: "I don't go to school today?" Jerry says, "Nope. It's your Mama Day." He gets this goofy grin on his face, walks over to me, sidles up between my knees and wraps himself around me.

It's pretty great.

On Monday he started in a new classroom at his school. It's bigger, with more stuff and older kids, new teacher, all that. We built it up as new toys, new friends, lots of fun, etc. And I expected that it would probably go off without a hitch. I think we're pretty lucky in that both our kids handle change well. Wilder, in fact, has been acting like he's the persecuted one because he DIDN'T get to change classrooms. So anyway, after we'd gotten Hunter settled in his new environment and I'd given him a kiss and hug, told him I loved him and would pick him up later ... all that ... Wilder and I are walking out to go to his old, boring classroom and Hunter runs toward us. "Mama!?" A look on his face that I can't place. Is it panic? Oh no ...

But no. He just wanted another kiss and hug. "I love you, Mama." And turns around, runs back into his class and finds a toy to play with.

A new year, with SNOW!

It finally snowed big here in Colorado. Yesterday we headed out to sled at a nearby park in what, with windchill, had to be temps close to zero. It quickly became clear that Hunter is a cold-weather kid, and Wilder, with the declaration that, "My EYEBALLS are cold" and a few tears, is not. Not yet at least.

Here's a picture of them before we all got so cold we high-tailed it home to lay under blankets and cuddle (well, maybe just Wilder and I ...):



Today is a bit warmer, with a high of 20ish. The boys and I bundled up and took a nice long walk in the snow in the open space behind our house. At one point, a massive bald eagle flew low right over our heads. It was AMAZING.

This afternoon we are taking the sled across the street to what is affectionately referred to in this neighborhood as "Kill Hill," a VERY steep sledding hill. The sky is a deep blue, the air is crisp and the snow is glistening. THIS is why we moved back here, in part.

Happy New Year. May much love, light and good fortune fill your lives in 2011. I'm sincerely just hoping for more sleep. ;-)

A heaping pile of ... yeah, you get the picture

It's good to know God's still got a sick sense of humor ... and also a good one, in my opinion.

So this morning, a little drama ...

Was sitting at home on the verge of tears, trying to motivate to do something fun with this day when I got a call from Wilder's school. He'd choked on his breakfast and, though breathing normally, was still complaining of something stuck in the his throat. I called Jerry while throwing mine and Hunter's coats on, and Jer told me to get him and get him to the emergency room, because if that "something" got into his airway, we'd have trouble.

I honestly was pretty calm, but as I drove a little maniacally to his school, I had a little conversation with the creator of the universe in which I actually threatened him/her. "So help me," I muttered under my breath, so Hunter couldn't hear, "if anything happens to my boy on the same day you took my mama away, I will ... well, shit, I dunno, but I will figure something out."

I got to school and quickly saw that Wilder was OK. At which point, not being as calm as I guess I thought I was, I burst into a mess of tears. Since I was about a hair's width from them all morning anyway, it didn't take me long to get all weepy and weird. I explained my overblown reaction to his teachers, who then proceeded to make me cry more with hugs and kind words.

Jeez, I'm a mess.

But back to that little threat toward the Great Beyond and the whole sick sense of humor bit? Yeah, I'm pretty sure that whoever's in charge out there had a great little chuckle over my empty threat. And he/she got me back later, as I stepped in a gigantic pile of dog crap in the back yard while playing soccer with the boys.

Message received. Got it.

Rogene Ann Scott (Kallemeyn): 9/21/43 to 12/15/2000

I remember thinking at some point, in the first months after she died, that someday she would be gone 10 years. I couldn't imagine that amount of time without her. Today is that day. I still have a hard time figuring out how I made it all this time without her guidance, but it's a testament to the kind of mother and friend she was that I've done OK.

Love you, Mama.

The fog lifts ...

OK, I admit it. I'm not a big fan of December or Christmas. I mean, I like so many things associated with the holidays, but there are so many more that I don't like, chief among them the proximity of the holiday to my mom's death. Try as I might, I can't get past it. Yes, I know she would want me to (she LOVED Christmas) and yes, I know I should for my kids' sakes. For the most part, I do. But there is a time each year when I am in an incredibly dark place, a place that I can't lift myself out of. I just have to endure it and wait for that day when I wake up and realize the fog has lifted. Every year I wonder if it will; because, honestly, some years, the fog just feels like a thousand pounds on my shoulders. I go through the motions, but it's like I'm swimming in molasses with all the color drained out of my life. This has been one of those years.

Yes, I probably need meds. Got it ...

So anyway, a few days ago, the fog lifted. I don't know if it's chemical, hormonal, or if it was just a function of a couple of very good friends who spent the day with me and helped make my world feel normal again ... the power of friendship cannot be underestimated. And, lucky for me, I have some amazingly good people in my life.

So, at any rate, I'm enjoying the holidays a little bit more now. And because of that, I wanted to share some photos here that have made me smile each time I look at them. And share one anecdote:

Today, when I picked Wilder up from school, he brought me a beautifully decorated card and brown paper bag. I opened it when we got home, and in it was an ornament for the tree that he had made. And yes, I guess I'm a big sap, but it brought tears to my eyes. It takes my little tree, that I keep jokingly and lovingly referring to as the Mexican hooker of the flora world, and makes it into something very, very personal and lovely. When it comes time to take the tree down, I will wrap this ornament in tissue paper and keep it safe for all Christmases to come. And I suspect that it will be one of those things that, in future years, makes me feel a little bit better about this time of year.

So here are the shots from the last week or so. Hope everyone is having more peace and joy than frantic and crazy this holiday season.

Hunter asleep with Jo-Jo, the reindeer his Arizona grandparents sent him.

He is in LOVE with this guy.

The other night, we made a secret reading/drawing/storytelling spot under Wilder's bed. He and Hunter insisted on sleeping in the same room this night. It didn't pan out, but they sure had fun for the couple hours it took us all to realize that no sleep would be happening as long as they were in the same room.

My friend Karen brought her girls (same ages as the boys) over the other day.

Can you tell they like each other?


The aforementioned ornament. On the left is Wilder in his Kwanzaa crown. And on the right he shows off his creation with a "Happy Hanukkah!" sticker on his forehead. I love that he's learning so much about different ways to celebrate this time of year.

LegoMaster

Wilder with his latest Lego creation. It's a "shooter house," and it can "kill a dinosaur."

Boys ... :-)

Wilder's turn ...

So a few weeks ago I wrote about Hunter's parent-teacher conference and how it made me so proud of him. Well, guess what? What a lucky mama I am ... because the same thing happened today with Wilder's conference.

I will start by saying that I am always a little more trepidacious when it comes to Wilder's conferences. I want to state adamantly (and especially for Future Wilder if/when he should ever read this) that this is not because he is any less wonderful or smart or good or anything than his brother. It is simply that Wilder and I have a more complicated relationship. We are different than each other (and yet in some very important ways the same), and sometimes I am at a loss as to how best to motivate him or encourage him.

That said, he is brilliant. Just brilliant. In so many ways. He's smart as a whip. His embrace for life is a constant source of amazement to me. I am constantly trying to figure out the multitude of ways in which his mind works. He builds things from nothing and proudly shows them to me, and his pride is never -- not even once -- misplaced. I already think he could grow up to be an amazing engineer, architect or sculptor. Or, really, anything he wants to be.

At any rate, maybe it's because I struggle to understand his particular brand of brilliance that I often wonder if his teachers will, too. But today I was so psyched to see that his teacher gets him. She told me things about the way my boy learns that I did not know, things that I will keep between our family because it's really not important or all that unique ... it just makes me understand him more and adds to my arsenal of mama-tools.

And she told me things I already knew: That he's an incredibly quick learner. That he's extra-empathetic for his age (this is something both my boys share and I cannot tell you how happy and proud it makes me to be raising two compassionate small people). That his exuberance for school is almost unrivaled by his peers.

And, Future Wilder, if you do ever read this, know this: You are one in a million, kiddo. We may butt heads more often than either of us would like, but I never, at the end of the day, fail to be impressed by the way you meet life head on, by your incredible and incredibly absorbent brain, and by your kindness. And, when it comes right down to it, you have made me a better mother and a better person. And I adore you, my little love.

I can't wait to see what future P/T conferences hold ...

A recipe you must try

Yesterday was Jer's birthday, so I was searching for a cake recipe and came across this one at allrecipes.com. It was highly rated. It called for boiling water, but I made it with hot coffee to enrich the flavor, and then made a simple chocolate glaze that I drizzled over the top.

For the record, if you make it, you MUST serve it with blackberry ice cream ... the flavors mesh so well together. It was fantastic!

Ingredients
2 cups hot coffee
1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup butter, softened
2 1/4 cups white sugar
4 eggs
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Directions
1.Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease 3 - 9 inch round cake pans. In medium bowl, pour boiling water over cocoa, and whisk until smooth. Let mixture cool. Sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt; set aside.

2.In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at time, then stir in vanilla. Add the flour mixture alternately with the cocoa mixture. Pour batter into a bundt cake pan.

3.Bake in preheated oven for 45-50 minutes. Allow to cool.

Being Debby Downer today ... (sorry)

As much as I love the holidays, this time of year is always touched by a bit of sadness for me. My mom died 10 days before Christmas in 2000, and it's generally unavoidable for me not to be thinking of that starting sometime in November. I remember the last conversations I had with her, how Jerry and I had just bought our first house and how excited she was to come see it (she never got to), and then I remember that call from my father, how I'd never heard him like that before ... how it was so clear from his voice that her illness was serious. How I went to my company Christmas party that night (I'd booked a flight out the next morning) and tried my best to put on a merry front, but failed so miserably.

Enough of that. This could quickly turn into a downward spiral.

So yesterday, a bit of this was on my mind, and a realization hit me. She's been gone almost 10 years. I'm almost 40 (well, 39 on my next birthday). That means I've lived almost a quarter of my life without her. I mean, it should have been obvious, given the simple math ... and perhaps the fact that I've gotten married, bought two (soon three) more houses since that first one, had two of her grand-kids since her death ...

But I'd never thought of it in that way. A quarter of my life. That seems like such a big chunk. A heartbreakingly big chunk.

I just miss her. All the time. But more this time of year, given the timing of her death and how much she loved the holidays herself. She'd be in her kitchen right now, cooking like crazy in her sweats and an apron, probably, if she were still alive.

Well, anyway ...

If you are spending part of your Thanksgiving holiday with your mom (dad, grandparents, anyone you love and can't imagine not having in your life anymore ...), give them a big hug. You really, truly never know when it'll be your last chance.

The making of lemon chess pie

Got our Thanksgiving pies made today, too, and BONUS! The batter made for two pies -- not one as the recipe said. Woot! BONUS PIE!!

Not sure if they taste good, but they smell and look pretty, as Hunter would say, "deewishus!!"

The fixings await ...

That handsy, sample-happy sous chef strikes again!

Ta-dahhhhh! (Now let's all pray they taste decent ...)

The chronicles of cranberry sauce

Thanksgiving has begun at my house, which, in essence, means that I have to start cooking a couple days early so that, come 4 p.m. on Thanksgiving day, I don't have to shake the flour out of my hair, crack open a bottle of bourbon and sink down to the kitchen floor in a puddle of tears and pity.

This year, much to my delight, I'm hosting my Denver-based family, which means I'll be cooking for 9. Of course my lovely siblings will be bringing side dishes (you GO Jay with your big, bad relish tray self!!), but I'm roasting the turkey and throwing in a bunch of other sides and desserts because, well ... because I'm masochistic?

No, actually, I love making a big holiday meal, even if it does usually mean a lot more stress than I bargained for. And it is particularly sweet this year since we're back where we belong. Now I'm just hoping for big, big snow on Thursday.

Anyway, back to today: My sous chef (also know as Wilder) and I made Triple Cranberry Sauce, something I've made every year for about the last seven, I think (and gratitude to my awesome mom-in-law, Teri, for the recipe). I decided to take some pictures because this is really the first year Wilder has been able to help me cook the big meal. He's an awesome sous chef ... a little liberal with the tastings, but great nonetheless.

Here are some photos:

The berries begin to pop ... my favorite part.

My sous chef, hard at work ...

Busted!

Seasonings, etc. await ...

Ready for the dumping ... and ...

There we go!

Wilder gives it a good final stirring.

And voila! The finished product.

Give me five, sous chef!

Our morning project

I'm not one of those crafty moms. But this morning something came over me. Maybe it was the knowledge that, if nothing was done, I would be asked approximately 1,726 times over the next month and a half this question: "MAMA????!! HOW MANY DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS?!!?!!?"

So, behold ...

The Scott Family Christmas 2010 Countdown Calendar:


Now I should only be asked that question 876 times, at which point I will simply point to our 3-foot-long, 18-inch deep crazy creation and say: "Count."

But, in all seriousness, it's cute, no? Construction paper just my be my medium of choice from now on ...

Proud mama

Just got home from having a parent-teacher conference with Hunter's teacher. Yes, he's 2. No, it makes no sense. And honestly, as I was sitting there waiting, still somewhat sick, wishing I was at home on the couch in my robe and fleece pants, I was thinking what a total waste of time it was going to be.

And, pretty much, it was. She handed me a folder of his artwork and a checklist of his skills and a few anecdotal incidents of him being sweet to his fellow students. And I didn't learn anything I don't already know. Which makes sense, of course: He's my kid.

But I did leave there pretty proud of him. Miss Naoko, his teacher, told me again and again how wonderful his social skills are, particuarly his ability to feel empathy for his friends and fellow classmates. "We don't see this level of social interaction in 2-year-olds, hardly ever." she said. Sometimes it takes someone else's angle on your own kid to remind you that there is something special there. I mean, I know Hunter is an exceptionally sweet boy, but I don't walk around all day thinking about it.

She asked me at the end of our meeting, half joking: "Maybe you can share with us how you raise him?" And I told her what I genuinely believe: That kid came out of the womb like that. It's not that I don't think I'm a good mom (sometimes), but I think those who know Hunter best, like me, will agree that he was just born that way. He's got a certain way of looking at life that involves equal parts mellowness, kindness and humor.

So that's all I wanted to say: Hunter is pretty damn great. (And Wilder is, too, but his p-t conference isn't for another couple weeks, so I'll brag on him then.)

/bragging