Things I Never Knew

This morning Munchkin was playing on our piano, and shared a discovery I had never thought about much.

Munchkin: Mommy, these notes are the mad notes (as she pounds low on the keyboard)

Me: OK, that makes sense.

Munchkin: And these are the happy notes (here she hits some really high keys)

Me: Of course.

Munchkin: I'm mad Mommy.

And she procedes to spend the next 5 minutes pounding low keys.

I love my daughter.

People I Love

OOOH! Look at Munchkin's cheeks! I could just die I love them so much!

This picture is a couple years old. My kids look nothing like this now. But it's still one of my favorites of them with my sister. They adore Aunt Melissa, and I have to agree. My sister is one of the people I most admire in my life. I wish I had her drive and her ability to see exactly what she wants. I've never seen her let anything get in the way of achieving her goals once she has them set. It's quite impressive to watch. If one way doesn't work, she'll find her own path, thank you very much.

And to see her with my kids (or anyone's kids) is so much fun. Her flair for drama and laughter are just perfect. No one is better at getting a smile out of grumpy-just woke up-hate the world-Munchkin than Aunt Melissa. She understands these things.

Plus, she knows exactly what I mean when I say I'm both terrified and relieved to know I'm destined to become my mother.

Melissa, I love you! I'm so proud of you for making this big move to graduate school!

Just one last thing: Straight up, now tell me is it gonna be you and me forever?

Peas, Potatoes, and Memories

For my birthday this weekend, I had Mom make creamed peas and potatoes. It's a dish I have consistently adored my entire life. I still adore it. But I have to admit that I'm hesitant to make it. The last time I did was more than 6 years ago.

Z-man and I were living in Grandpa Thompson's house. I was pregnant with Zippy and Grandpa was in very poor health. Along with various other ailments, he rarely ate much of anything. A side effect from some of his medications. The day after I made a batch of peas and potatoes (with new potatoes and peas from Grandpa's garden), I came home from work to find Grandpa on the floor of the bathroom. He'd had a heart attack, and had probably been lying there all day.

What a horrible evening that was.

John got home shortly thereafter. We got him up and John helped him get dressed and cleaned up. He was too stubborn to let me take him to the hospital, so we called my parents. While we waited for them, Grandpa ate a great big bowl of creamed peas and potatoes that I warmed up for him. It had been many months since I had seen him eat so much. And his casual comment that they tasted good nearly broke me.

They admitted him to the hospital, and he passed away not even 2 days later. My peas and potatoes, a dish Grandma had made him countless times over the years, was the last thing he at at home.

Maybe I should make them again as a celebration. Maybe I should--but I can't yet. I can eat them with only sweet memories. But making them myself seems somehow beyond me. Even though I know he'd shake his head and think I was being remarkably silly. And he's right. I am being silly, ridiculously silly. Maybe this year when my potatoes come in--maybe when I harvest from my yard just like he loved to do--maybe for the first time in my children's lives I can make them this dish. This food that has such deep roots in my soul of love and family.

Updates

I've been spending a lot of time trying to dig myself out of this house. It is not going quickly.

However, I have made significant progress in one area: my closet. With help from Kimmy and Christy, I managed to do this:

Yes, everyone, that is a clean and clear floor. In fact, that is what Z-man commented on first. Before he noticed I'd moved him out of the closet and into the dresser. LOL

Mmmm. Doesn't that look nice and organized. I'll eventually replace the boxes with bins in colors I like--but boxes are easier on the budget. As in free. I've gone in there just to stand and look and feel good. My closet may very well be my favorite room in the house now. And no, I don't have any before pictures. No one wants to see that--trust me. We cleared out more than would fit in a lawn-and-leaf garbage bag.

My most favorite part, though, isn't the organized clothes. Or the clear floor. Or knowing where everything is and being able to see it all. No, my favorite part is the enthusiasm with which Christy labeled my clothes:

He he he. This makes me giggle all the time. I don't just have socks. I have Socks!! And Layering Shirts!! I just love it. Now if I could just finish the downstairs bathroom. . . .

Do It Myself?!?

Ugh. It's been way too long since I posted on here. And really, I have no good excuse--well, except that I'm still trying to dig my way out of the house after being pregnant for a year and dealing with a baby and a 3-year-old and a 6-year-old at the same time. Anyone who says they get bored being a stay-at-home mom is crazy!!!

But just lately, I've been getting a lot done. I've been purging shelves and closets; donating or selling tons of stuff; and making a GINORMOUS list of projects I want to have done around the house. Then I realized something--I hate waiting. We've been in this house since Zippy was born, and now he's six. That's six years, folks. Six years that I've been waiting to do certain projects until I had time, or help, or could get Z-man to do it for me. Well, I'm done with that! I'm slightly obsessed with getting projects done right now. And I'm tired of looking around my house and thinking about all the things I want to do, but not doing them. So, I'm going to start doing them.

That's right. I'm going to decorate/renovate/finish my house. All by myself if need be. I AM WOMAN HEAR ME DRILL!! He he he. Well, OK, I'll still have to rely on Z-Man to do any electrical work, plumbing, fixing drywall, etc. Cause I'm not THAT crazy. But if I want something painted, I'll paint it. If I want something small built (or even big if I find I'm good at it), I'll build it. If I want something decorated I'll make something or buy something and then actually put it up. Enough with half-done rooms.

It may take me quite a while, but I'm going to do it. I'll try to post results here often--both big projects and little ones. Wish me luck!

Laugh or Cry

Mom often said, "You can laugh or you can cry." As a teenager, I always resented it when she said it. I thought she was telling me I should be able to control my emotions with cool efficiency. Of course I also spent a lot of my time crying.

Now that I'm, well, maybe not grown up, but certainly older, I can hear Mom saying it in my head. "You can laugh or you can cry." I realize now that she never meant I shouldn't ever cry. Sometimes that systemic purge is exactly what's called for. Mom just meant that, if you can back away enough to find humor, situations lose their power to derail you.

Last night I found myself close to tears, and I heard Mom. I decided I needed help, so I call AmyO. Our conversation started like this:

Me: I need you to remind me I'm not a loser even though I'm here at WalMart at 9 at night buying diapers and butter.

Amy: surprised silence. . . .then loud laughter

It was just what I needed. I needed to see that Little Man at home naked (I was out of diapers after all) and probably trying to pee on Z-Man was funny, not tragic. And that me walking through Walmart carrying butter and diapers, wearing no makeup, and sporting unshaved legs was something to giggle over.

So thanks, Mom, for the advice I'm finally trying to take. And thanks, Amy, for helping me laugh.

Passion

I've been thinking about this post for a couple weeks now. I first had thoughts banging around in my head--quite loudly, really--but no time to put them down on paper. And then, when I did put them into words, they didn't sound right. I've been thinking and worrying and just plain procrastinating writing about this because it makes me uncomfortable. Both because I worry it will come off as self-righteous or pompous. And also because I'm not sure I truly do have the right words. But, I'm tired of worrying about it. And, really, I can only take so much thought-banging before I completely lose it. So, I'm going to be brave and write.



I've been told I should use my blog to share my passion. This poses a significant problem for me. Not the idea of being passionate--that's not a problem at all. But the idea of choosing one passion and limit myself to that is beyond me.

I tried listing what I'm passionate about to see if there was something I could focus on, and here's what I came up with:

Z-man--you really don't want to read this every day

my family--even I can't read about my own kids every single day

the happiness of my friends--but these are their stories to tell

reading--but no particular genre and my favorite book is always the one in my hand

music--again the genre always changes

hobbies--never the same one for long

cooking--but only when my kitchen is clean

grammar--and yes, I realize this makes me odd--it's why you love me

Do you see what I'm up against?

I consider myself to be a very passionate person, but rarely are those passions long-lived. I love to start new hobbies and projects. Finishing them, is a different story. I was passionate about Twilight for nearly 2 years. But now I'm much more interested in the friends I've made because of the experience than the books themselves. In fact, I've considered changing the name of my blog to better reflect my current passions. This is more a reflection of my perfectionism than a true need, however. I want everything to be just right all the time. I wanted to change the name to something that would perfectly reflect me and my life. Because that's not too much to ask of a few simple words at the top of a website, is it? LOL

So, as a solution that will both meet my need for things to be accurate and to force myself to make the best of what I have, the blog is staying with the original name. That, and I'm too lazy/busy to figure out how to change the name of a blog and would be much more likely to just start a new one. And I really don't want to have to do that.

For me, Forks is no longer associated with just Twilight, or vampires, or even Edward (sigh). For me, Forks now represents everything good and beautiful and meaningful in my life. Forks is the sense of self that I rediscovered through Twilight and TwilightMOMS and which I still struggle to maintain. Forks is all the people I love, the people who make me laugh, the people who affect the direction my life takes. Forks is my current passion--whatever it is I look forward to. Whatever currently makes it worth surviving the day. Forks, for me, is a place I can simply be who I am. Or where I can pretend to be who I want to be.

So that is what this blog is for me. An excuse to indulge myself; a place to laugh at myself; a reminder that I'm not alone unless I want to be. You're welcome to join me as often as you want. I can't promise regular updates--or interesting ones when I do write. But they will always be passionate.