Growing up in Minnesota

Who needs a bed?

While preparing one's home to put on the market, how do you make a bedroom appear less cluttered? Well, if it's our sons' room, which has a bunk bed, a race car bed and a crib in it, the answer is simple. You put a bed in storage.

We are in luck! Ever since the cousins came to visit and slept in sleeping bags on the floor, the boys have decided the floor is SO COOL. What a lovely coincidence!

So, my boys, there are now only 2 beds for the 3 of you until May. Let's hope this stays cool... 

What have we done!

Uhm... remember that post about not getting that house.

Well, we got that house.

Holy Crap! What have we done! Now I have to sell this house! Now I have to find a home for the 1839482 pieces of junk that lurk in the corners, beneath the table and in the kids pockets. I have to clean that red spot on the door that is actually a spaghetti sauce stain from 3 weeks ago when I fell down the stairs with dinner and a baby in hand (we all survived...). There is painting, cleaning, organizing, windexing... We will have to buy a new ceiling fan to replace the one that had the glass shattered during a pillow fight 3 years ago, a new bathroom door for the one that got wet long ago and is a bit rotted, a new closet door to replace the one we are going to keep forever with all the tick marks of the kids heights.... Shall I go on?

I also hear showing a home with 4 kids and a dog is really easy and fun...

The good news? I am SOOOOOOOOooooooo excited!

Yummiest Christmas treat

Ah, Christmas. Though this is my favorite of the holidays, I think we can all muster a warm fuzzy feeling for the childhood holiday that brings you the most joy. For my friend Kristen, it's 4th of July, given the big whoop-de-doo it was for her entire childhood town. For me, Christmas morning still makes me all excited and giddy. Sure, it's not the same at 36, but now, seeing it through kid-eyes makes it fun all over again. I get inspired to make Grandma's pecan rolls, stir up some penuche (which Omar can't begin to understand... what's not to understand about butter and brown sugar... who cares if it makes your teeth hurt?), and gleefully place an orange in the toe of each stocking. Why? Because THAT'S WHAT YOU DO. 

It wasn't until I lived with my dear friends Cat and Jules after college that I was dumbfounded to learn not EVERYONE did these things. We almost came to blows while decorating our first Christmas tree together. Everyone knows that small white lights are the only lights that belong on an indoor tree. Cat, bless her, in her woefully misguided way, wanted small multicolored lights. Ok, ok... I guess we had done that one year... I can live with it... But Jules. Oh My... Multicolored, large bulbs. No, I swear I'm not making this horror of a Christmas tree up... Shocking, I know.

Now, you don't have to agree with roommates on Christmas traditions, but when it comes to marriage, you gotta work these things out. Thankfully, Omar is fine with small white lights (could have been a deal breaker otherwise), and he introduced me to the fun tradition of getting a new ornament each year that represents something important from that year. It was a sparse tree those first few years, but we are getting respectable now. Of course, 4 of every 5 ornaments have something to do with babies, being the fertile Mertyl that I am... but I digress..

The other wonderful tradition I have learned is the steady staple of Advent calendars for the kids. God bless the Germans for this great tradition. And God bless Omar's mom for swinging over to Germany at the beginning of December. I was a little shocked when Max's turned out to be Sponge Bob themed, but beggers can't be choosers when you are trying to buy these things on December 10th. 

Usually, our alarm clock is three boys leaping onto our bed, followed by the unhappy elbowing of the twins jockeying for the position between mom and dad. But not since December 12th. It is now the yelling of "Advent Calendars!!!!" as they race to the kitchen. They then realize they don't know the date, come asking, then shriek back to the kitchen.

This morning, Max couldn't get 21 out of it's little pocket. He brought the calendar into our bed and asked me, in the dark, to get it out. I clicked on the bedside lamp, fumbled around with it 1 inch from my face looking for the 21 flap without my contacts. Having found the spot, I open it to find it empty. "Uhm... Max, the 21 is gone. Are you sure you opened the right one?" 

He begins the search in the bed, in the hall, by the back door (he lets the dog out each day), in the kitchen. Nothing. I assume the dog is testing that whole "chocolate kills canines" theory as we speak, hoping to not have to deal with the mourning of the family pet on Christmas morning. 

Omar and I finally drag ourselves out of bed, squish the two of us into one of the tiniest master bathrooms to prepare for the day. I notice a huge scab on Omar's elbow and inquire what new bump, bruise, crush, scrape or abrasion he has yet again incurred at the brewery. He is confused. He offers his elbow to me with a quizzical look of "Whadaya mean?"

Mmmmmm.... elbow chocolate. Warm, mostly melted German elbow chocolate. Delicious.

Now that's a Christmas tradition I could get used to...

Dis-a-POINT-ed

You know how sometimes you tell yourself, "Well, I'm not REALLY looking for a new house."

Ok, maybe it's just me.

I'm not REALLY looking... so therefore, I shouldn't get REALLY excited when I happened to find out the owner of a big house in our neighborhood would entertain an offer. And if I'm not looking, it would be REALLY stupid to fall in love with the place and start redesigning the home in my head. And I shouldn't REALLY be surprised to find out this wealthy man doesn't REALLY need our offer. And he REALLY didn't like our offer. 

So why am I REALLY sad...

And the tree is up!

Max taking the shots

A man and his boys

Feel all the brotherly love

I hate Snapper

Let me tell you one thing you never want to do. Don't lose the key to your snowblower. Now, I could do an entire post on why one would ever have the key anywhere OTHER than in the snowblower, but I digress...

We had a good 6 inches of snow this week, and Omar, with the eager assistance of 6-year-old Max, shoveled our entire driveway given that the sparkling new snowblower is little more than a very big paper weight until we get this situation figured out. So, yesterday, on my day off, I decided to be the best wife in the world and find a new key, or die trying. It was closer to the latter.

I started by calling Home Depot. They basically giggled at me and told me to call Snapper. Go ahead and visit snapper.com, and see if YOU can find a phone number anywhere. The only thing on the "contact us" link is a place to send an email off into cyberspace hoping to get a reply before March. I opted to skip that.

So, I looked at the 'dealers' link. Sears. Great. Sears will help me out, right? Well, not the first one I called, because they don't have Parts and Services. The second one I called needed the model number, which I had not been able to find. So, I tromp outside after leaving a crying baby inside (exacerbated by the barking dog that scared the poo out of him, literally), follow his instructions for where I need to look, and tell him the model. I then take my cold fanny back inside. "How about a serial number?" Repeat the baby, the crying, the barking. Back inside. "What was the model number again?" Seriously? Repeat again.

He informs me he can see what kind of snowthrower (not 'blower,' you Oklahoma rube) I have, but his computer is telling him nothing about the engine or what kind of key I need. "So, what do I do now?" I ask the man. "Don't know" is his incredibly helpful reply.

He gives me the only number he has for Snapper, which is their Manuals department. It's worth a try, right?... other than the fact it is disconnected.

Thank you Sears. So, next I move to the local hardware guys that sell Snappers. I tell the man who answers the phone my sad tale, and ask him what I should do next. He says "Well, what you should do is come down here and buy one!" "Really? You have one... you don't need to know the model, the serial number, any of that???" Nope. He informs me they are quite generic and I should head his way. Yippee! I'm in the car...

Now, for any of you that know Minneapolis, a journey to Penn and 31st North is an adventure in and of itself. I talk to someone other than the man who I spoke to on the phone, and he heads to the back to get the key. He returns. "Ma'am, we are out of those..."

[picture woman holding a baby in a car seat, head exploding]

The good news is that the man I spoke to on the phone overhears this. He says "Oh, no. You hang tight [insert 'little lady' here, even though he didn't actually say it], I'll find you one." He reappears in 10 minutes with an oily, tired lookin' red key. He sells it to me for $1.50, and I'm not entirely sure he didn't just steal it from the house down the block. But at this point, I don't really care. The reports of 6 more inches of snow for the weekend have minimized my guilt of buying a possibly hot piece of plastic.

I am finally home, ready to proudly display the fruits of my labor to my adoring and appreciative husband. Yeah... it doesn't fit.

So, I spent much of my day off doing this. I am no closer to having a working snowTHROWER than I was before all of this... but later that night I thought I would at least get some sympathy from the hubby for my troubles. I start to tell him the tale.

He turns to me with a semi-horrified look on his face as I begin. "Hon... I found the key this morning before I left for work."

I can't stand it...

Reality check

If there is one thing my job is very good at, it's keeping my life in perspective. Yes, yesterday I got up early to nurse then helped get Omar and the twins get out the door, while also keeping Max heading in the right direction to not miss the bus. Then it was nurse again before handing the littlest man over to the nanny and head to work at 9:30 wondering if a cup of coffee is considered an adequate balanced breakfast. I already feel like I am seeing my husband dramatically less than when I was on leave, even though, in reality, it hasn't been that much less. I am still getting into the swing of it, which means I feel bone tired after doing a work day in addition to everything else...

... but yesterday I had to tell an entire family that their beloved, active, elderly mother, the glue of their family, had died in a car accident. We did all we could do, but the accident had just been too severe. The family came in waves, and they asked that I be the one to tell each person, so I told the news a total of 4 times, each time dropping members of the family to the floor sobbing.

 

So, this holiday season, I want to tell each one of you wonderful people who care enough about me to read this blog that I am so blessed. I have you all in my life, I have an incredible family, and I have a level of insanity in my life that leaves me pleasantly razzed at all times. How very lucky I am. How very very lucky. 

Before school

So, we live on a hill that normally drives us wild. Mowing is a bear, but it's nothing like the nightmare of winter. Our curved, sloped driveway becomes a booby trap. Trying to back out is a daily adventure. If we don't slide right through the yard, we usually end up spinning 90 degrees as we go down trying to make the curve, ending up like something from Austin Powers, parallel to the road but still in the driveway with yard both in front of the car and behind it.

But, the joy of the hill has now been fully realized. This is Max this morning for the full hour he had before the bus came:

Good Dog

I'm a workin stiff

It's official. I'm back at work. I certainly felt like I was off my game as far as the whole "work flow" aspect of things, but the good news is that I do remember how to be a doctor. The snow storm also worked in my favor, because the place wasn't too busy. 

After getting up at 5:15, showering, pumping, grabbing a cup of joe, working for 8hr, coming home to take over on Leo, meeting Max off the bus, then packin' everyone in the car to get Calvin and Spencer, I am now cooking dinner, awaiting my husbands valiant return to the home front.

This is gonna be crazy.

Max and mom get goofy

And the answer to yesterday's quiz is Leo, Max, Leo, Leo, Max, Max

Two sets of twins

It's a fun little game called find Leo. 3 pictures are Leo, 3 are Max at the same age... Spooky...

Leo thinks he's cute

The Party is over

I am very very good at compartmentalizing my life. I live from one event to the next, and I don't really deal with the next chapter until it is looming.

Well, Thanksgiving is over, and thus, I have 5 days left in my maternity leave.

(Heave sob)

Given that this child has been such a wonderful little dude, I have basically had time off to get used to the idea of independent wealth. Now, granted, I couldn't do this forever - I would lose my mind eventually - but I could certainly stand another month or two.

This being said, I still have scads of things to accomplish - things I have put off for 3 months, thinking I could always tackle them 'tomorrow'. This would include learning the new electronic medical record system that has taken over my ER since I left. Thank You cards are now scattered everywhere. The mountains of baby clothes (recall: there were twins to dress last time around) to go to Arc are becoming large enough to cause bodily harm to the kids should an avalanche occur. My To Do list is massive, and 5 days just ain't gonna cut it. Thus, my stress level has shot to new heights, added to the fun that always comes with the idea of decorating a house, getting a tree, buying dozens of gifts that have yet to even identify themselves in my mind, and facing the snow that has just begun to cover the world. 

...and don't even get me started on the level of froth induced during the process of donning two 3-year olds in ski pants, mittens, boots and coats multiple times a day. Sweet mercy.

In other words, welcome to the first day of the rest of my life....