TEXTBOOK MOTHERING
So it's Halloween and while we've done our fair share of celebrating the season, I've certainly had better years. (Okay, so . . . Martha would probably snub me in a crowded room, but I'd tell her my story anyway). My only excuse is that I caught some kind of crud a couple of weeks ago that has by far, without a doubt, been the most bizarre illness I've ever experienced: fatigue, sore throat, cough with impressive green stuff on day one, more cough, chills at night, fatigue, a shift up north into the sinuses, dry cough, fluid in ears, fluid in sinuses, more fatigue, not much of a voice (Tierney and Parker insert thank you here), cough attacks in the middle of the night, cravings that only consist of sweet and salty things-- Diet 7-up, chocolate and popcorn to be exact . . . including 4 day old popcorn from Target-- with no signs of getting better. In the scheme of things? No biggie. Could have been swine flu. But as mentioned before, it is a big deal when your job is a stay at home mom. But we've already covered that topic and I'd hate to come across as a whiner. . .

And so the one night I should probably just stay home and watch a movie with the kids, I decide we should carve pumpkins. Casey had to work late, the kids had had a long day, I was still hacking up green stuff . . . the stars were aligned. It was the perfect night to be crafty. Since my doctor didn't prescribe me any of the "special" cough syrup, I figured I'd take matters into my own hands and grab some wine at the store. Imagine the scenario-- Fred Meyer liquor store, shopping cart full of Halloween goodies, misc. groceries, 3 pumpkins and two toddlers. Tierney and Parker are behaving fairly well considering the overwhelming anticipation as the 3 pumpkins stare at them in the face while I try to concentrate and focus on finding something-- anything-- that will satisfy my bizarre cravings. I grab a bottle of white, a bottle of red, and a bottle of champagne (random, but it sounded good at the time). Tierney and Parker, entertaining themselves, are jumping up and down while watching themselves on the security monitor. Not perfectly behaved children but not bad either. I'm just relieved that they're not tipping over bottles of wine while I'm not watching. My selections had been made and I was checking out when all of the sudden out of the corner of my eye I see our shopping cart falling on top of Tierney . . . pumpkins and all. After realizing that Tierney was going to survive the incident, I couldn't figure out whether or not I was mortified or relieved. Of course there were 3 or 4 others in line who kindly helped me pull the cart off of her, handed me my keys, purse and Hippo but I couldn't help but think to myself, "Am I that mom right now?" I concluded that I, indeed WAS that mom, carried on and decided to brush off any/all judgements that may have been made in that line. Not my finest moment. I get it. I cared, but I really didn't. Because that would require energy that I didn't have. But it was awkward and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. At least Tierney was okay. It could have been worse. Much worse. Like her accident resulting in a trip to the Emergency Room where I would be forced to tell the nurse the story about Mommy needing a cocktail to "cure her cough". . . I'd never live that one down. Yes, it could have been worse.

Anyhow, we made it home safely-- with a few minor bruises-- where we had a fun night of carving pumpkins (turns out it was more like "Lets watch mommy carve the pumpkins while we supervise"). But we all had fun, the wine was my candy, and my cough was cured for the night. It wasn't pretty, but we all survived the night together.

TWINKLE
It's been 22 days we lost Casey's dad. Just the other day we were sitting side-by-side in his cozy, memory-filled living room talking about the remodel, the lake, pre-school, licorice, cookies, Casey, our dreams at night, my dad . . . and about losing someone you love. Over the years I've heard people talk about the tremendous respect they had for him as Mayor, how he was a tough negotiator, and how he ran a tight ship at home. But when I think about him, one word comes to mind: sweet. In my mind, Mr. Sullivan was the epitome of sweet. And love. And gentle. And warmth. And kindness.

And his eyes really did twinkle.

Especially when he was in the presence of, and talking about, the love of his life, his children and his grandchildren. My heart breaks for Casey because I know. I feel sad for Tierney and Parker because they probably won't remember Grandpa. But we will certainly show them pictures, and tell stories, and share memories and celebrate him every day which will hopefully paint a clear picture of everything and all that he was.

But for now, Grandpa is on vacation-- an extended trip where he is finally with Grandma, Gramps and Nana. Among many things (the moms having already exchanged soup recipes), I envision Grandma asking Mr. Sullivan, "What took you so long?" . . . Nana wanting to know all about the details of the children and grandchildren . . . and Gramps, with a wide grin on his face and a scotch in each hand, asking him, "Can I buy you a drink?" as he anticipates finally telling Mr. Sullivan his version of the break-in story.

only a mom could love that hair . . . only a daughter could love those glasses. unconditional love at its finest.

6 YEARS AGO TODAY
It's hard to believe that it's been 6 years since I lost my mom. While I've stopped the instinctual habit of picking up the phone to call her, sometimes it feels like just yesterday we were sharing a soft pretzel together on the white bench at the 5th avenue mall. If I knew our time together would be cut short, I would have never insisted on always bogarting the nacho cheese that accompanied her pretzel. Of course there are a few more things I'd take back, but all in all, I couldn't have asked for a better mom or relationship with her. I know I was lucky to have that. I just miss it-- and her-- terribly.

ASHEN
So I've been neglecting my blog these days and I feel guilty about it. But not as guilty as I feel about me being here and my husband being over there . . . at the new house. Much to my own surprise, this might be the first time I've written about our remodel. Odd, considering the project has seemingly dominated our lives over the past (insert gulp here) year? Dare I say (big dramatic sigh, slow-motion head nod, hands on hip) I think the end is in sight. Exciting things are happening and we are incredibly fortunate to be where we are. Casey was painting what was probably our last accent wall of the project (for now) this morning and as I watched him roll away, I had to walk away because of the overwhelming emotion that came over me. I couldn't quite put a finger on it but watching Casey paint "Ashen" on our wall was seemingly symbolic and made me reflect upon a ton of things all in a just sliver of time:

1. We are close to the finish line.
2. The road has been long, FUN, yet unpredictably and indescribably hard.
3. He trusts me with things.
4. I trust him with things. Just little things like electrical things, and what not.
5. The final product will be overwhelmingly beautiful and perfect (but only if he abides by my rolling technique rule).
6. Just when you thought you could never eat Burger King, pizza, cookies, beer and tater tots in one day-- just to survive-- you do. And it doesn't really matter, because the excitement takes over, and you really could care less if you're going to be bloated the next day.
7. The project has been therapeutic for both of us during some difficult times.
8. I married Bob Vila.
9. I am far too anal to perform many home improvement projects, but Bob loves me anyway.
10. In one year-- perhaps less-- we will have forgotten the stress, the late nights, the decision-making, the arguments, the fatigue, the juggling, the sacrifices . . . because it will have all been worth it.

MARK MY WORDS
Random, yet highly significant prediction: James Purefoy, who plays Teddy Rist on "The Philanthropist," should-- and will be-- the next James Bond.

JASON JONES
he's funny . . .

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Quitter - Leave Sarah Palin Alone
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Joke of the Day

REVELATION
It's become painfully apparent that my 4 year old and 2 year old need less sleep than I do. This discovery falls under the category of: "Things my friends with young kids should have warned me about before I gave birth." Uncle Andy, Aunt Kelly . . . are you listening dears?

On a completely separate subject, although somewhat relevant, I found out that Wal-Mart sells little 8oz. cans of Diet Coke. An 8-pack of 8 oz. cans. Cute concept. Perfect size. I'm in. Now I won't need to reheat my morning coffee at 2:00 for that much needed perk since my kids will no-doubt be up for another 8 hours.

Less than 30 minutes until my sweet lovin' Irish leprechaun gets back from DC. Now if I can just remember where I put the baton . . .

SUNNY DAZE IN ANCHORAGE
This crazy-fun vacation weather we're having is incredible. For the past couple of weeks or so every moment has been spent outside with the kids. Dirty faces, mosquito bites, late nights, hot dogs, dirty toes, pool time, popsicles, bug spray, . . . endless backyard fun.

I feel lucky to be me.

Sunny weather is, without question, high on the "Top 10 Stay-at-Home-Mom Perks" list. These long, hot, carefree days make me reminisce about our latest trip to Mexico. Just recently I was picturing our arrival after traveling all day (4 airports later . . . or was it 3?) with 4 toddlers and 4 tired adults salivating over the thought of our first vay-cay / we-survived-the-flights celebratory cocktail. Luckily, I still had some goodies stashed in my bag so the girls were able to partake in the airport while the boys worked on getting us our stylin' mini van. We packed into the rig beautifully. 4 kids, 2 car seats, 4 adults, 4 obsessively decorated Trunki's, plenty o luggage, toys, books, snacks, hippo, bluey, cozy night-nights, pacifiers and blankies (thank the Lawd we hadn't lost one along the way). First stop: beer and food. Mission accomplished. Second stop: Casa La Paloma. I was delightfully crammed in the front seat between Tadd and Casey while Amy, acting liaison between the kids and adults (and much too far away), was practicing her newly acquired yoga moves just inches behind us. The kids--surprisingly cooperative -- were packed in the back and just as excited as we were to find our new pad for the next 10 days. The adventure had only just begun but for some reason the cozy, comfortable and safe feeling I felt in that minivan during that evening ride from the airport sticks out in my mind with utmost vividness.

Magical anticipation at its finest, perhaps.
But unequivocally much more . . .

It was just getting dark.
The moon was spectacular.
We had survived the flights.
We had the car.
We had food.
We were together.
And we had each other.
Beer had never tasted so good.
Friends had never meant so much.

RAIN OR SHINE
Just a few pictures (courtesy of MOFO) from our golf outing. It poured on us, we were frozen and drenched by the time we finished, but it was a great time. My golf game was another story, however . . . allow the following Haiku to illustrate it for you:

Played golf with the girls
Shankapotomus central
Must have been the clubs

ARGYLE AND KEGELS
So I should probably be outside mowing the lawn, pulling out weeds, or replacing the old sand with the new sand in the old sand box, but instead I'm waiting patiently for my burst of energy and thinking about everything but being productive. Tierney had soccer today. It was a slow start but it ended up okay. I'm just glad she wasn't overly distracted by her sister running up and down the fields in her larger-than-life pink tutu (thanks to Coach Heatwole). Uncle Andy came to watch which was a treat.

I'm counting down the hours until I play golf tonight with my book club homies. However, spoken as if (um, written as if?) I was not born and raised in Alaska or attended a college not-so-conveniently located on the top of a MN hill where the average low temperature in January is negative 20 . . . without wind, I'm not looking forward to playing in the cold (my name is Paige, and I enjoy run-on sentences).

Watching golf on TV is fun. But it's also deceiving . . . at least to those who don't have palm trees lining their streets or lemon trees planted in their backyard. Somewhere along the way I have painted a romanticized picture of what golf should be. The sky is blue. It's hot. There is a mild breeze-- just enough to keep the sweat to a minimum. I have a special compartment in my golf cart for my beverage. I know what club to use each time I'm up to bat. I know where I'm aiming. I know how to keep score. I'm wearing an argyle sweater vest with striped capris and think I can get away with it. I'm having fun. I'm solving all of the problems of the world and, at the same time, being reminded of the fact that I should really practice my kegels more often . . . because I'm having so much fun. My game rocks. I have my own "GET IN THE HOLE CLUB" following.

Turns out, not so much the case in my world (with the exception of the having fun part . . . and the special compartment part). Ah well. It'll be cold tonight, but frolicking on the golf course with the gals will no doubt be a good time, layers and all. Maybe I'll show up wearing my fuzzy polka-dotted ear muffs and see how long I can pull it off with the ladies . . . without cracking up.*

* Prediction: I'm guessing Shannon will be the first to notice it (knowing that it's a joke), and say something like, "Nice muffs!" Amy, will notice, compliment them, but will be a bit unsure as to whether or not I really meant to wear them on the golf course. And Bame will will do the same and ultimately come to the conclusion that it was a smart move on my part to cover up the ears.