tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64996572294936855082024-03-13T23:18:42.185-07:00SurlyCrewThe story of one woman, her five men and 2 dogsMrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.comBlogger353125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-45314816917792400582019-05-31T07:32:00.000-07:002019-05-31T07:32:11.209-07:00WE'RE BAAAAAAACK!Well, hello again! I know full well that I am currently typing this to absolutely no one, since I haven't really used this blog in years. BUT, this will be the home for updates of the European Ansari Journey, starting June 9th.<br />
<br />
We are currently packing madly, but Iceland awaits very soon. See you there soon :)Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-51053048475976731432015-02-02T11:19:00.001-08:002015-02-02T11:19:30.150-08:00NaseemOn January 13th, Omar's father passed away after a brief illness. We just completed all the things that come after: the obituary, the phone calls, the planning, the funeral and a celebration of his life with stories, memories and photos that spanned his life. I spoke at the celebration. Here is a copy:<br />
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When you sit down to try to write something deep and
profound, something to encompass the breadth and enormity of who Naseem was and
what he accomplished in his 82 years with us, words tend to disappear from you
head. The thoughts that flow in and out when you are falling asleep or waking
up seem to dissolve, to seize up, when you stare at that terribly frightening
and powerful blank white page. But the words that kept rattling around in my
head were the few that Omar said to me in those first, paralyzed 24 hours after
Naseem died. He said “Becca, how great that there was nothing left unsaid.” And
he was so right. Though Naseem is gone from us much sooner than any of us
thought he would, we don’t feel like we missed our chance. We aren’t saying
“Oh, if I only had one more day to tell him…” And I realized that deep and
profound words aren’t the one’s that need to be shared today, but instead, it’s
the most basic of words, the ones we said to each other all the time.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I love you.</div>
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<br /></div>
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In the crazy of our lives – the kids, the dog, the noise and
the bustle, the homework, the sports, the sleepovers – what we said as we
shuffled out the door as cold air wrapped it’s unwelcome and uncomfortable
fingers around Naseem, was “Love you, Pop,” and he would wave and said, “Okay,
guys. Love you, too.” And it was sometimes muffled, sometimes shouted, and
other times lost in the chatter of so many little voices. But, we are so
unbelievably fortunate that we didn’t need to say more than that. We didn’t
need more words, or grander words, because we knew – he knew – the enormity of
what those few little words held. </div>
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<br /></div>
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When Omar said, “Love you, pop,” Naseem knew what Omar
meant. He meant:</div>
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<br /></div>
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Thank you for believing in me, even I don’t even believe in
myself.</div>
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Thank you, dad, supporting my dream, my family, my mom, no
matter what.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He meant, You are my example and my hero, in business, in
family and in just the decent way you treat every person that enters your life.
</div>
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He meant “Dad, I will always put up with 100 of your
suggestions, because 3 or 4 of them turn out okay.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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And when Naseem said “I love you, biddy,” to Omar, we knew
what he was saying. He was saying:
</div>
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<br /></div>
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I’m so proud of you.</div>
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Thank you for continuing this crazy American Dream journey
with me.</div>
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Omar, You bring me joy</div>
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I wish you were better at Engineering, but that’s okay. I’m
over it.</div>
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</div>
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And when I said, “Love you, Naseem,” he knew I meant:</div>
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Thank you for raising my knight in shining armor.</div>
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For being a roll model of a life lived with grace,
forgiveness and kindness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He knew I meant "Thank you for fiercely loving your wife, a
domino effect of love that I benefit from every single day."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And he knew I meant "I will teach the boys how to mow
the grass at the cabin in perfectly straight lines, just the way you showed me."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
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And when my kids roll down their windows as we drive away
from their home and screech “BYE OMI! BYE BABA!!!” he knew they’re saying:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We know we are always welcome here.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We know we are safe and loved inside of your four walls.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He knew they were saying "Thank you for making us Boston tea
and toast with jam that never tastes as good in any other kitchen."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks for your amazing BlueRay, 9000 inch TV screen that
Omi can’t turn on. (Truly, he might as well have taken it with him)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And as he waved out the door to our boys, he didn’t need to
say anything. We all knew his thoughts to our kiddos. He was thinking:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Keep going.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Study hard, work hard and make your own dreams come true.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Carry me forward. Take me on your own journeys, wherever
they may take you.</div>
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Because I will always be there, in your heart, wherever you
go.</div>
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<br /></div>
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There is no better sign of a life well lived that this room
full of tears and laughter. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Naseem, We loved your easy laugh. We loved your beautiful smile.
We loved your ability to see the good in anything and anyone. And we mean all
of that, every time we say</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We love you, pop.</div>
Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-51574720844795711932014-02-25T13:11:00.000-08:002014-02-25T13:11:18.853-08:00The Job of WritingThis past weekend I attended my first writer's conference. Janna and I packed our bags, and after a woefully prolonged journey to NYC, we arrived to our hotel 13 hours late before collapsing into our beds. At 7AM, we picked up our Society for Children's Book Writers and Illustrators name badges and hit the first of a series of lectures and break-out sessions.<br />
<br />
There were a few things that I heard for the first time, but much of it was information I already knew. Story structure, plotting, the importance of characters over plot to carry a story, the fact that we all "fail" many, many times in the process of producing successful work. But for some reason, there were many things in this list that felt refreshingly new to my mind. Maybe it was just the enthusiasm of the speakers, or the vibe of being surrounded by people who are chasing (and catching!) this same dream. Maybe it was the fact that sometimes you just have to listen to something over and over again to hear it for the first time. Whatever it was, I feel like this process now has a brighter outlook and a bit of a new beginning.<br />
<br />
This thing "Writing" is a job and an art. It takes time, patience and crafting. I need to give it the full dedication any job deserves - preserved, scheduled and uninterrupted time. My calendar will now reflect this. No more writing whenever I can fit it in. My Writer's Habit starts today, and that alone fills me with excitement. I will also cut myself slack, knowing that many days I will produce text that will never be seen by anyone but me. There will be garbage. There will be total junk. But there will be good stuff. Hopefully really good stuff. Stephen King says you have to unearth a story like an archeological dig. Kate Messner says you have to throw a lot of pots to learn how to make one good one.<br />
<br />
Let's get to work...Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-49216824073538466322014-01-22T13:04:00.000-08:002014-01-22T13:04:00.448-08:00ShotgunI have frequently been surprised at how hard it is to place people when you run into them in an unfamiliar setting. When I am rummaging through my mental Roladex, I am also trying to place a person in the right physical space: are you college, med school, residency, North Memorial, Meadowbrook, Breck, Surly, or the dreaded no-man's-land of "other"....? Given that I am not the best at remembering people to start with, taking someone out of their normal context can completely flummox me. A place for each person, and each person in their place. <br />
<br />
Context and place have importance. I want to know which "me" do you know. Was I your doctor, your peer, your friend, your teacher, or the woman running your kid's play date? Not that I am a radically different person for these scenarios, but I can't say I'm completely the same either. <br />
<br />
Last night, it became clear to me that place <i>itself</i> holds power. Up to this point in life, the passenger seat of my car has been occupied exclusively by adults. Those over 18 have ventured back to the Chex-Mix, water bottle and Big Nate strewn booster seats of my minivan, at their own peril, but the boys have never ventured forth. The front seat is, by definition, an adult space.<br />
<br />
Until now.<br />
<br />
Mr. Max, being a somewhat freakishly tall 11-year-old, is officially tall enough to take that long-yearned-for shotgun seat, morphing us from chauffeur position to buddy position. Road trip position. Long hours of chatting position. And I found it morphed not only our physical space, but our mental space as well. We talked differently. I wasn't lobbing questions to the bowels of the back over the din of pop radio and 4-boy chatter. Instead, we were just talking, not only about his day, but mine as well. Talking more fluidly and at ease. Talking equally.<br />
<br />
When we hit the house, not surprisingly, it was back to business as usual. Back to the loud banter of our lives and our home. I was the one barking about the need for PJ's and tooth brushing, asking again if anyone was ever going to feed the fish, wondering how so many clothes could be on the floor in one 24-hour period. Back to being Mom. Max back to being Kid. Because that is what we do in that place. Those are our roles on that stage.<br />
<br />
But it makes me want to drive a little slower and take the side roads next time he's in the car. Turn down the radio, and eventually roll down the windows. Though I yearn for him to stay a child, this window into the young man he is becoming is even more enticing. This new place, with it's different rules, is a place in which I look forward to many hours together. Road tripping, right here in town.Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-32096795668174630812013-12-06T07:33:00.003-08:002013-12-06T07:33:42.327-08:00My time nowAs may of you know, I left my job in June. I haven't really said much about it here, on twitter or on Facebook. I have kept a pretty low profile about the whole
thing - despite it being an unavoidable topic of conversation - largely because of the
decadence of it all. It's announcing to the whole world that I walked
away not only from years of training but also a doctor's salary. Surly's success has
allowed this reality, but it still feels weird to display something that
is usually considered private in such a public way. Friends here in Mpls ask me "How's <i>retirement</i>?" and it feels very odd if not downright embarrassing. Who <i>retires</i> when they are 41? I'm not <i>retired</i>.<br />
<br />
But I am also not going to work.<br />
<br />
I'm writing. I'm cooking. I'm spending time with my parents. I'm seeing friends more. I'm getting kids on and off the bus. I'm trying to take care of my body. I'm sleeping like a normal person. I'm taking trips with my family on weekends. I'm helping with homework. I'm present.<br />
<br />
Decadent indeed. <br />
<br />
There are the many colleagues who were deeply worried about my identity. How could I wake up each morning knowing I wasn't heading to the hospital? Well, I am here to let all of the worriers know that my identity is doing just fine! In fact, I'm surprised by how little I miss my doctor life. Sure, I miss the great saves and the mystery illnesses whose diagnosis unfurls themselves with a little work. That's why I went into the job in the first place. But let's be honest. That was a pretty small percentage of what I did day in and day out. I do miss the comradery of my many lovely partners, but I find dinner and lunch dates make up for that quite well.<br />
<br />
Most importantly, the time I have with the boys (though maddening at times) is, without question, the best gift I have ever received. Max was chosen to perform in front of the whole 5th grade last month, and <i>I was there</i>. I didn't have to explain to him why mom couldn't see him. I am reading to Spencer's class today, and still have a chance to write, exercise and meet friends for dinner. <br />
<br />
Were things different, I would still report to the hospital for every shift, smile on my face, ready to ride that horse into the <i>real</i> retirement sunset. That is the life I happily signed up for. But, I am the incredibly lucky gal who gets to see what else life has in store for me. And I'm pretty excited to see where that horse takes me.Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-25785688501260824432013-11-08T09:23:00.000-08:002013-12-06T06:54:09.350-08:00First BornMy eldest might be the most earnest person I have ever met. His genuine concern for the well-being of others, specifically his brothers (when he isn't telling them to kindly go away), goes beyond his years. I am pretty sure I don't care that much about people... actually, I'm quite certain of it. This is a quality that is deeply IN him, not learned. He once told me I wasn't greeting the dog in a kind enough tone.<br />
<br />
So, this morning, he asks if we can talk, "alone." This is also part of his earnestness. Someone, someday, will love having found a boy that actually <i>likes</i> the phrase "We need to talk." It turns out he is pretty worried about Leo. Apparently, in a story Max was reading to said 5-year-old yesterday, somehow someone asserted one of the silly characters was drunk. (No, I don't know what children's book they were reading, but I clearly should find out). Leo, always happy to jump into whatever his brothers are doing or saying, comprehending or not, then said "They are all drunk!" I am sure this was followed by him looking from brother to brother to see if he had made them chuckle.<br />
<br />
Max is very worried about this. He feels it isn't appropriate that a 5-year-old is making jokes about such a serious matter. It should be said, with our family's unavoidable steeping in the beer culture, I have tried to be very straight forward about the goods and bads of alcohol - the moderation vs excess concept. In doing so, I have somehow mistakenly given Max the impression that drunk people are to be deeply feared and avoided. I think any mother would argue this isn't a terrible misunderstanding, one that could actually work in our favor, but it is a little over the top.<br />
<br />
I tried to explain to Max that Leo really has no idea what he is talking about. He was saying a joke thinking it would make his brothers laugh. He wasn't buying it. He said he's concerned that Leo is going to grow up faster than he should, being the youngest, and that he and the twins are to blame.<br />
<br />
I mean, really? What 11-year-old says such things? I assuaged him as best I could, but he went to school still concerned.<br />
<br />
I guess I should cross "Buy Leo cigarettes" off of my To Do list...<br />
<br />
<br />Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-1767475082544328822013-10-15T10:26:00.006-07:002013-10-15T10:26:51.746-07:00Taking turnsIt seems, of late, that the children have a well orchestrated schedule worked out. They fake not knowing the time, the date or the flow of a day because the <i>clearly</i> know how to tag-team pushing me to my limits these days with swiss-watch-like precision.<br />
<br />
It goes from whining to not finishing homework, to starting eating without sitting down, to standing up during every meal, to leaving a needed book at school, to forgetting the math on the table, to interrupting every word that comes out of my mouth, to glad-handling your brother's body because he won't give you some worthless piece of plastic that you've had NO interest in for the past 4 years, to refusing to take the time to poop properly, to peppering me with the never ending Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom, to leaving the door open (again), to leaving your new game where the dog chomps it to bits, to not drinking your milk (again), to leaving clothes all over the damn place, to having no idea where your sports gear is, to leaving that sports gear all over the greater Minneapolis area, to intentionally bugging your brother, to leaving your dishes at the table (again), and for the curtain call, acting like a victim of child abuse when I get upset about ANY of the above.<br />
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It's been a bit of a rough week.Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-20720881804040968122013-10-09T08:06:00.001-07:002013-10-09T08:06:13.878-07:00AnswersMuch to my husbands frequent chagrin, there are very few questions posed by my kids that I will not answer. I figure it's better they get the straight dope from me that some awkward 8-11year old version elsewhere.<br />
<br />
While single-parenting last night, the kids asked if I would read them from "The Book of Lists," their new favorite way to pass time. This book has a wide variety of lists, from Top Ten Unsolved Murders to Top Ten Unusual Uses for Beer, and everything in between. They chose Top Ten Frivolous Lawsuits as our first list last night.<br />
<br />
One of the lawsuits involved a woman suing Victoria's Secret (explain what that is) for injury to her eye when the thong she was trying on snapped. This, of course, required explaining what a thong is. Now, if Omar was in this situation, he would simply say it's a pair of underwear. 'Nuf said. But, we all know, that's not really answering their question.<br />
<br />
The looks on their faces when I described the construction and positioning of a thong was <i>completely</i> worth the effort I put into it. Horror and frank disbelief. "Why would <i>anyone</i> do that???" This inevitably led to a discussion of what a panty line is. Again, horror, embarrassment and copious giggling. <br />
<br />
They are now pretty sure Victoria's Secret is a purveyor of disgusting, bizarre, undesirable items.<br />
<br />
Mission accomplished. Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-10040514950621878472013-09-10T08:03:00.003-07:002013-09-10T08:03:57.370-07:00A 5 year history of Sept 9th!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CB5JQbBNP6M/Ui8yvXtP2pI/AAAAAAAABTg/nmEE2OXm64U/s1600/DSC_2519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CB5JQbBNP6M/Ui8yvXtP2pI/AAAAAAAABTg/nmEE2OXm64U/s400/DSC_2519.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BIRTHDAY</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One year old</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2 years old</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WQnD2jttkTQ/Ui8yNkl4orI/AAAAAAAABTI/AECanNqvRK4/s1600/DSC_0531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WQnD2jttkTQ/Ui8yNkl4orI/AAAAAAAABTI/AECanNqvRK4/s400/DSC_0531.JPG" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning the business at 3</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 years</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yesterday, rockin the hat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It is hard to belief 5 years has passed since this little monkey joined our crew. Omar was pretty sure our family was complete with the 3 we had (all under the age of 4) when I convinced him otherwise. And now, we can't imagine our world without you, my little Leo man. You are the giggles, smiles, smirks and silliness that helps keep this ship afloat. We love you so much and are so glad you completed this family with a POW!<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday, my small fry.<br />
<br />Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-57103343167068469052013-08-11T08:16:00.000-07:002013-08-12T13:21:50.405-07:00Down to OneIt has been 8 years since I have been the mother to only one child. But as of this morning, I am again only caring for one for the entire week. Max has been gone already a week to Y camp, and Cal & Spence just got on the bus for their first one week camp experience this morning.<br />
<br />
It feels super weird.<br />
<br />
The quiet alone is disruptive. I am not being pulled in 4 different directions by 4 different pitches of "Mom, Mom, Mom..." Leo is at a play date right now, and Omar is out of town, which means I HAVE NOTHING TO DO. Now, of course, there is always <i>something</i> to do, but I have the freedom to browse through that list at a leisurely brunch-style-menu fashion. I think I will go for a run. This will be followed by a long hot shower.<br />
<br />
I could then tend to the laundry, but you know what. I ain't gonna. Not gonna do it. I think I will, instead, either read or go to a coffeehouse and write.<br />
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And I'll miss by boys a little bit...Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-48435601520776442702013-08-09T07:47:00.000-07:002013-08-09T07:56:59.002-07:00The Beauty of SadnessWhen our friends, the Eklund's, let us all know they were moving, my first reaction was to turn my gaze away while silently saying "Why? Why? Why would they do that?" in my head. "Why would you ever want to leave us?" I kept a straight face, saying outwardly "Wow! That is really exciting for you guys!" and probed for further details as I tried to not let my own sadness overcome their news. It was like the "amicable" breakup in college where you are telling yourself "Yeah, you are right. This isn't working out. It's better this way. I'm <i>totally</i> cool with it" when you are TOTALLY NOT COOL WITH IT. The blow was softened by the qualifier that they were moving out of state, not just to a different neighborhood (which may sound odd, but the fact that it was for work and not just a new house felt better somehow). It was also softened significantly by the news that this move was (probably) temporary - New York City for 2 years. <br />
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There are so many different flavors of friendship. Acquaintances, casual drink friends, frequent dinner friends, work friends, tell-all friends, distance friends, used-to-have-a-lot-in-common friends, college buds, grad school pals. But then there are the friends who are a <i>part</i> of you. A part of your family. Friends that make you laugh to the point that you can't breath, and who are part of the daily fabric of your life, even if you don't see them every day. Friends with whom you can be completely, blatantly, unflatteringly yourself, and they love you all the more for it. Friends who you can cry with as comfortably as laugh with. These are the friends who are the family you choose, in addition to the family you are born into.<br />
<br />
These are the Eklund's.<br />
<br />
As with most precious things, rarity is one of the criteria. There are only so many friendships that can bore into you so deeply. It is also harder, I think, to make those friendships at this point in life. Everyone is busy - jobs, kids, family, exercise, making dinner, doing the homework. Where is the time to really give of yourself freely and honestly with the intention of knowing someone else as fully as you can?<br />
<br />
So, we cry.<br />
<br />
And then laugh. I thank my lucky stars that I cared so much about a friendship that it would hurt so much to say "see you later." And we will see you later. It won't be the same around here without you guys. But how completely fortunate our gang has been to find each other, love each other and grieve each other. It is a beautiful thing.<br />
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<br />Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-21056717831005011422013-02-04T13:55:00.000-08:002013-02-04T13:55:19.146-08:00Gotta goSo, either this gang of ours is cursed, or we REALLY need a vacation.<br />
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6 months ago, the 5 couples of the 'hood decided we were going to kick the "We're all now in our 40's" off right with a grand trip to Mexico. 5 couples, no kids, 5 nights in Saluylita, endless margaritas. Only order of business? Learn how to surf.<br />
<br />
One month ago, Roxie pulled her hamstrings clean off her pelvis and had to get them surgically reattached. The crutches were just jettisoned last weekend. <br />
<br />
2 weeks ago, Mary got leg-swept by her dog on her stairway and broke off a chunk of her sacrum. She is still getting used to sitting.<br />
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Yesterday, I broke my pinky toe on a coffee table leg. Turns out walking is painful on this little bruised nub that looks like a plump, purple little smokey.<br />
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So far Erika and Pam are uninjured, but I have advised them to stay in bubble wrap for the next 17 hours until our plane takes off. The men clearly have better ju-ju than the women. They are all still standing.<br />
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Wish us luck...<br />
<br />Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-19193994233264760422013-01-10T13:46:00.002-08:002013-01-10T13:46:45.645-08:00Tahoe Baby!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For the New Year, we were fortunate enough to have Matt and Megan include us, yet again, on a wonderful adventure to Northstar ski mountain. Their family has an amazing home in the area and the ski conditions were great. We had absolutely no fun whatsoever...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last day on the mountain</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one pretty much sums it up.</td></tr>
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<br />Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-38798878617608482712012-11-16T18:48:00.001-08:002012-11-16T18:48:52.691-08:00Little detailTonight Max came up from the basement to pronounce that Leo was hitting his brothers their friend Mateo. So I had the 4 year old come up to talk to me.<br />
<br />
Me: Leo, raise your hand.<br />
Leo: I didn't DO any thing.<br />
Me: I didn't ask you if you did anything. I asked you to raise your hand<br />
(repeat the last two sentences ~3-4 times)<br />
Me: Repeat after me. I will not...<br />
Leo: I will not...<br />
Me: ...hit my brother or Mateo<br />
Leo:... hit my brothers with Mateo.<br />
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One little word. Big difference.Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-58557094478678810742012-11-08T13:24:00.004-08:002012-11-08T13:24:29.402-08:00What the hell happened?I thought I was the mother of young boys. The fact that I am not yet completely Pull-up free would support this world view. But today, I looked around and realized that I am thoroughly delusional.<br />
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The boys want to listen to KDWB (top 40!??!). Max has taken to making us omelets any morning we ask. We pay a quarter for emptying the dishwasher and making coffee, and most mornings I don't have to touch either appliance. Max can just head into the study and knock out his homework and reading solo. I tell the kids it's 10 minutes to bus time, and everyone is piling out the door 4 minutes later (+/- homework or adequate outerwear....). I can announce bedtime and everyone is actually in PJ's with teeth brushed while I stay firmly rooted to the couch watching Monday Night Football.<br />
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Last weekend, one of Max's friends came over and ALL the boys (including the 4 year old) played outside for FOUR HOURS. I went for a run, and they were still doing the same thing when I returned that they were doing when I left. (Now granted, Omar was home. We aren't to THAT stage yet. Oh, that would be just TOO crazy...).<br />
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It is remarkable how many baby-soaked years you <i>yearn</i> to have children able to wipe themselves, brush their own teeth, eat breakfast without assistance, dress independently (weather appropriate and in the right orientation), stop whining, stop pulling on your clothes, stop asking for uppies, and just GROW UP.<br />
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And then they do. And you didn't really see it happen. Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-75642633851606090302012-10-24T09:23:00.001-07:002012-10-24T09:23:38.133-07:00Weekend of fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This past weekend was one that everyone is going to remember. Some more than others, but certainly there were memories made that will last these kids a lifetime, literally.<br />
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For Christmas last year, Omar's gift to his mom was a trip to New York with him and Max. It took this long to get that trip accomplished, but accomplish it they did! They did Central Park, Empire State building, Statue of Liberty, Natural History Museum, the subway (including a ~1hr lost adventure underground), and they saw Wicked. Max is now professing that he want to be an actor when he grows up. At least it's more attainable that his previous dream of playing in the NFL. <br />
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Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I was here in MN with the other 3 goofballs. I was trying to figure out what we were going to do with our time when a friend tweeted about going to a pumpkin patch. And with that idea, our Sunday was set. We hit an orchard in Minnetrista (half hour drive) that had a corn maze, haunted graveyard, pumpking picking, hay rides, apple picking, a huge hay pile (simple is the favorite), face painting, balloon art (SWORDS!), and lots of yummy candy, caramel apples, donuts and other completely sugar charged goodness. It was a gorgeous day, and it was one of the best times I have had with the boys in a while. This came after the day of hanging out at the Science Museum with Spencer's best bud. All in all, a great weekend.<br />
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<br />Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-58809278315759861282012-10-10T15:32:00.001-07:002012-10-10T15:32:06.992-07:00I'm just sayin...I hate spelling tests. Really. I hate them. That is all<br />
<br />Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-62185212450559977462012-09-17T13:22:00.003-07:002012-09-17T13:22:58.873-07:00A week in illnessPoor Max. The boy has spent the last week trying on every size of illness a little boy could have. It started with fever. Rip roaring. He would wilt, get tylenol, feel great and then wilt 4 hours later. Repeat.<br />
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By day 4, the fever died down to just 99-100, but the next day we started in with the vomiting. That lasted a day.<br />
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Now we are into full blown asthma exacerbation. He hasn't needed his inhaler in over a year. In fact, the most recent one we could find in the back corner of a drawer expired in 10/10. I had started to think he had outgrown the diagnosis. That would be incorrect.<br />
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I got his prescriptions filled on Sunday, and last night he was sucking on that inhaler every 4 hours to quell the wracking coughing fits that woke him up. It would turn them off immediately, and he'd sleep for another 4 hours before we were at it again.<br />
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I just feel so bad for the kid. He hasn't felt "good" in over 8 days. He's missed 5 days of school and a week of football. Of all people, I should be able to "fix" him, right? Wrong. <br />
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<br />Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-51884794513969767072012-09-12T16:33:00.001-07:002012-09-12T16:33:22.950-07:00Sex Ed, ages 4-9<i>This post is not for the faint of heart. Husband, you have been warned.</i><br />
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We have all learned some new things today. Leo asked the good ol' Where Do Babies Come From question this evening after school. Since I was alone with the kids, we dove right into it. <br />
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Now, I have never been squeamish about this discussion. As Max says "That's because you are a doctor." Maybe. But I am happy to talk about the nitty-gritty any time they have questions. Today, I have learned that even with this history, we could have had a very fun True/False quiz based on their questions/comments.<br />
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1) Spencer: "All your half-babies (eggs) were already in your body when you were in grandma."<br />
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<i>True. Not sure where he picked this up, but it is absolutely correct. We talked about how they get to make their half-babies later.</i><br />
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2) Calvin: "That's called sperm"<br />
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<i>True. Well done</i><br />
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3) Mom: "Do you know how the half-babies end up together so they can start to grow a baby?" Leo: "You put the penis in the 'gina."<br />
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<i>True. Soon we will work on getting the front half of that word.</i><br />
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4) Spencer: "Yeah. That's when the daddy pees in the mommy."<br />
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<i>False. Very very false. Discussion of the difference ensued.</i><br />
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5) When Leo asked about how the penis gets in there, we talked about erections. An unnamed 7 year old stated: "Oh yeah, we get those ALL THE TIME. Like every time I am nervous."<br />
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<i>True, I guess. I really wouldn't know.</i><br />
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6) Leo: "And on a pig, the penis is the butt."<br />
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<i>Uhm.... no. No. The penis is not the butt. It is never the butt. He insisted I was wrong, but I really know I am right on this one. I am, after all, a doctor.</i><br />
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You will noticed there isn't a single statement from the 9 year old. He sat quietly doing his homework. After all was said, he piped up "Guys, you learn a <i>lot</i> more about this is third grade..." Then he put his head back down into his math. Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-68901635780758961552012-09-12T11:37:00.001-07:002012-09-12T11:44:39.272-07:00The inventorSpencer has turned over a new leaf. Ironically, the boy who had such challenges with focus is now my uber-focused inventor dude.<br />
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At the cabin a month ago, he HAD to make a can-string telephone. Nevermind we had no empty cans. Or the right string. And he had no idea how to put a hole in the one can we did manage to make available. The boys was unyielding in his need to make this thing. He also make himself a full set of armor (with shield) from a couple paper bags and some boxes.<br />
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This weekend, he found 4 old training wheels while dad was cleaning out the garage. By the end of the day, we had a new wagon fashioned out of these 4 wheels, a filing box and 34523 lbs of tape. He then removed the wheels from the old going-in-the-trash car bed frame, and attached those with string ala "cans behind your Just Married" car. He also took a remote control from a long defunct toy and was sure he could take it apart and somehow make it the remote for this beautiful new creation.<br />
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Last night it was a robot arm. I don't know all the details, because grandma and grandpa were on duty with the kiddos, but it apparently took the evening's full time and attention.<br />
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I can't tell you how wonderful it is to see this kiddo take to something with focus and gusto. It makes my chest swell a little bit to shush those inner worries and watch the new successes. That's all a mom really wants, right?Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-91004894936065782242012-09-10T09:17:00.002-07:002012-09-10T09:17:34.737-07:00Look who's 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hard to believe that 4 years ago we had a newborn infant in our life. That seems so very long ago. The bundle of happy that arrived in that little body has been such an amazingly fun, funny and adorable addition to our lives and family.<br />
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Leo, you manage to make everyone in this house smile and laugh every single day. You started our your birthday in the hallway, buck naked, dancing and jumping up and down announcing that it was your birthday and "Every present is for ME!!!" And you finished the day with your new pillow pet nightlight shining up at the ceiling with a huge smile on your face even with stinky blankie shoved firmly within it. This is how you live every day - it begins with a dance and a smile and finishes the same (unless you are crying about being moved into another room because you can't stop all your happy talking).<br />
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You drive me nuts when I put you on time out because you refuse to be upset. You usually sit on the step or in your room singing a song. If you are in the shower, we know you are still alive because of all the songs and general chatter that are coming forever out of your mouth.<br />
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I hope that as you age and find the more difficult parts of this life that you can maintain that smile, that eternal optimism (which seems bizarre to attribute to a 4 year old, and yet, I can). Sure, you have a way of driving your brothers nuts at times, and you have found a little bit of 'tude in the last few months, but my main birthday wish to you is to simply stay as you are. Happy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Florida alligator</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I won't buy you guns, but who doesn't love a good sword fight with brothers</td></tr>
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<br />Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-68747236910814328582012-09-04T11:56:00.002-07:002012-09-04T11:57:15.662-07:00And it begins again...With a heavy sigh, we have started school again.<br />
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Many parents I know sang the ol' "Can't WAIT for school to start" refrain in the last few weeks. And I am usually right there with 'em, awaiting the calm that a regular schedule brings. There is only one problem - I LOVED summer this year. We have had such a great run of camps, guests, cabin time, laughs and general silliness that the idea of school, homework, over-scheduled sports and weekends just makes me cry a little tear.<br />
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It is still sunny and warm out.... can't we wait just a little bit longer? One more barbeque? One more cabin weekend with tubing? One more night of staying up too late?<br />
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No, no we cannot. So this is our traditional photo, taken on our neighbors stoop with 2 of their girls. Leo thinks he is going to school, but that is still another TWO years from now. Poor little dude... <br />
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And I am off to work. First day of folders, paperwork galore and homework will fall on my parents and my husband.<br />
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Let it begin.<br />
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<br />Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-64539249513241799632012-08-22T17:36:00.002-07:002012-08-22T17:36:42.395-07:00Family evolutionAfter dinner last night, we actually cleared off the table and had ourselves a good ol' round of Apples to Apples.<br />
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The game itself, if you aren't familiar, isn't really that important. My point is this: this process that began 10 years ago with waking every two hours, breast feeding, diaper changing and mini-van buying has finally produced one of my most cherish family experiences - playing a board game with all my kids.<br />
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Granted, Leo had to be on Omar's team, Spencer on mine. But we all played the whole game, laughing frequently and enjoying everyone's company. There was classic Sheldon outrage at feeling cheated. There was Leo laughing and the word "underwear." We all had a blast.<br />
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It was just. Simply. Lovely.Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-52409812645276536932012-08-21T14:04:00.000-07:002012-08-21T14:04:07.183-07:00New Running BuddyI have a new partner in my weekend running. He's a little slower than me, and we had to walk every ~1/3 to 1/2 mile, but our run together was by far my favorite of the season, if not my life.<br />
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Almost-10 Max managed to carry himself all 4.2 miles around Cedar Lake with me Sunday. During the course of the run, I told him we had gone 2 miles. His response? "Wow, I really thought that felt more like 1.5."<br />
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Like he has any idea what 1.5 feels like.<br />
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At the end, he said that it was really fun and he wants to do it again.<br />
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Let the next generation of crazy begin...Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499657229493685508.post-42072176896937528922012-08-09T13:01:00.000-07:002012-08-09T13:01:04.781-07:00Up North<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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What happens when you take 19 people to the cabin? A whole lot. </div>
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There was the crab boil...</div>
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There was the endless tubing...<br />
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Campfires and happy children all around...<br />
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And general monkey-business...<br />
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Too bad nobody had any fun at all....Mrs. Surlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05816447592452985792noreply@blogger.com0