Six Flags
9:30 PM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
Would you believe I have never been to an actual amusement park?

I suppose, if you know my history, you wouldn't find it so unbelievable. There aren't any amusement parks in Alaska and you won't find any roller coasters or rides beyond those at the various regional fairs. As a kid, we never went, either, as the cost and the height requirements were probably prohibitive.

Arthur came home with a reading log. For this reading log, unlike the others which you could win pencils or stamps or other trinkets, you could get a free ticket to Six Flags! How exciting! 

He read voraciously over the next month, reaching 360 minutes and receiving a free ticket at then end of the school year. Since he was so excited about it, we promised we'd take him sometime this summer. 

We took the boys on a Wednesday, supposedly the least busy day of the whole week. Even though it was still insanely busy and crowded and the lines for the rides were long, we still had fun. There were rides that even Balin (at 44") could go on that were not too scary, but were still exciting enough for Arthur. 

His favorite ride by far was the Viper (although the waterslides were a close second). Balin loved the Whizzer and the wave pool. Even I, despite the long lines and the crowds, had a good time. 

Did you go to an amusement park this summer? What was your favorite ride?

Blessed be. 


Skippy
4:00 PM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
"How's Skippy?" I wrote to Robinson.

He called. I knew that it was a bad sign.

The day before, Boo and Skippy got into a ferocious fight. Apparently this is not uncommon for gerbils, who will often fight to the death to establish dominance. Boo had attacked Skippy, and Robinson, who thought that they were just playing, did not realize what had happened until well after the fight had occurred. He separated the gerbils, but Skippy was in rough shape. 

She died that night.

I cried. 

We were still in Alaska and Balin had lost his pet. How could I explain this to him? 

He was most upset about not having a pet of his own anymore. I promised we would have a good-bye ceremony for her, just like we had done for Twinkleberry the squirrel a couple years back. 

When we got back, we prepared the grave and gathered some pretty rocks and flowers to put on top. Balin asked to see her and despite her rumpled state, Robinson showed him his deceased pet. We each said a few words about how she was a loving pet and a sweet creature. 

Although Balin rarely played with Skippy on his own initiative, he still loves her. After the ceremony, Balin stated that he would come visit Skippy's grave every time we went to the park and He created a new knock-knock joke in her honor: 

"Knock-knock."
"Who's there?"
"Sad for."
"Sad for who?"
"Sad for Skippy."

So, to Skippy, my dear little gerbil: I'm sorry you had to go in such a horrendous way. I wish I could have done something to protect you and Balin from such sadness. I wish you could have died peacefully in your cage, old and fat and happy. Even though you did not live very long, you still live in Balin's heart. You taught him responsibility and love and gave him a chance to take care of you - an animal dependent upon him for your own survival. You will be missed.

Blessed be. 


One Week
10:40 AM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
It's been a week since the boys and I have travelled to Anchorage. They're pretty excited to be here - they've played with their cousins almost everyday and Balin has formed a special attachment to Molly. 

"I love you!" he exclaims, wrapping his arms around her. She smiles begrudgingly and gives him a hug, too. (Arthur has shown no such affection for Ella, however.)

Robinson asked me if I was enjoying myself - really, truly, honestly enjoying myself. 

I am. I've seen a lot of my sisters. We've worked out together. We've gotten together for dinners. That's been great. My one gripe, naturally, is about my parent's house.

In some ways it has gotten better. There's no longer a path of books leading up the stairs and you can actually sit down at the kitchen table and eat. There is still space for the kids to play downstairs, thought it has become noticeably smaller. 

For those of you who don't know, I come from a long line of hoarders. My parents absolutely are hoarders, with the inability to give anything away. In fact, nothing ever leave the house, it merely gets shifted around and around.

There isn't enough room for entertaining people. There isn't enough room for me and the boys and their cousin Josh to sleep comfortably. 

My sisters and I have resorted to many covert tactics over the years just to get stuff out of the house...but, somehow there's always more stuff. My mom insists it is my dad's problem because of his stamps and books. We know it is also my mom's problem because there are empty bedrooms filled with her stuff. It makes me angry. And sad. Mostly because I can't do anything about it right now. 

Enough about that. I am having a good time, despite the mess in the house. 

How about you, dear reader? Do your parents drive you crazy? Are they also hoarders? Hang in there. 

Blessed be.


Beginnings and Endings
3:59 AM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
Last night, some girlfriends and I went out. We got pedicures. We ate sushi for dinner. We talked. Later, I discovered something that - while it didn't necessarily shock or surprise me - made me sad nonetheless. 

As I pulled into the driveway, I realized I hadn't checked the mail today. As I pulled it out of the box - ad, thank you letter, another ad, wedding invitation - it occurred to me that tonight was all about beginnings and endings. 

One couple ends their relationship. Another begins theirs. 

How do we know when it's time to end a relationship? I asked Robinson after I got home. My parents probably shouldn't be together and yet they still are. 

Is it because people don't embrace change?

Is it because we think our children would be better as pawns in a bad relationships than separated as a family? 

Is it because we develop some kind of mediocrity to our lives? 

I don't know. All I do know is that if it ever ended, I hope we could be adults about it. 

Blessed be.


Alaska
1:14 PM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
May is my three-year anniversary of moving to Wisconsin. A part of me celebrates because a lot of good things have happened to us since we've been here, but there's another part of me that still misses Alaska.

I grew up there, spent most of my life there, so it isn't easy for me to move on. This summer, the boys and I will be going up to Anchorage and Fairbanks where we will be reunited with my sisters and mother, along with many, many friends. It's going to be fun and a little intimidating to finally witness how much Anchorage has continued to grow in my absence.

We'll be hiking Crow's Pass - my sisters and a friend and I. I'm excited to get back on the trail with a pack on my back and nothing but the world in front of me. I always feel like Perry or Henson, explorers without limits, without fear, just me and my pack and the world under my feet. The terrain is familiar there, and welcoming.

We have a countdown on our calendar. The boys check it once a week to mark off the days that have passed and count the remaining days. They are excited to spend time with their Nana and their cousins and aunties. I am excited to spend time with friends and hang out with my sisters. We have already scheduled yoga classes and cycling classes at a local yoga studio. 

My mom has already told me she plans on taking some half days (because she cannot take off a whole day - what if someone needs her at work?) and we will go shopping together. 

What are you summer plans? Are you traveling? Camping? Hiking? Hanging out with friends? Whatever you are doing, enjoy yourself!

Blessed be.


Balance?
11:13 AM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
Last month I did a lot of writing and not a lot of quilting. This month I've done a lot of quilting and not a lot of writing. Of course, this is all in an effort to get as much possible done before I go, but I'm going to have to make peace with the fact that I can't possibly get everything finished. I'm not twelve people.

Sometimes having so much to do is frustrating. I've already given up many hobbies; must I give up yet another? Do I give up quilting or writing? Is it a matter of poor time management? It a matter of overextending myself? Is it all of the above? 

How do I possibly do everything I'd like when I'm stuck here, cooking and managing the house, trying to pursue something meaningful and fun, while I avoid cleaning the bathroom? 

I have no answer to any of this, except that there must be a balance between home and travel, work and play. I just haven't seemed to find it yet.

Have you managed to strike that balance? What's your advice?

Blessed be.


Coaching
4:40 AM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
Balin has played tee ball for the last two years. He enjoys it immensely, mostly because when we get home, he gets to eat a popcicle. In fact, I'm pretty sure if we cut him off, declaring that there would never again be popcicles after tee ball, he would choose not to play tee ball. 

This year, upon signing him up, in a strange fit of delierium, I thought about how much fun it would be to coach.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Robinson asks. 

He's right, because I always seem to bite off more than I can chew. It's as if a great snake somewhere had unhinged its jaws and forced a whole cow down its throat.  Fortunately everything on my to-do list seems to get done. Eventually. Kind of like the cow being digested. 

"I'm only going to be the assistant coach," I protest, as if that's going to make everything better.

I find out that the mother of one of Balin's classmate's is going to be coaching with me. The two of us have never coached before. I doubt that between the two of us we've ever played a sport. 

Over the phone, she seems a very nice person, and I'm glad we were paired together. The thought crosses my mind that we were paired up because we are girls. Which we probably were.

Somehow that idea makes me a little sad - as if women coaching tee ball is a joke, anyway. But maybe it's practical: maybe everyone knew that we sort of knew each other through school. 

I've decided to take on a whole who cares attitude about it. The whole purpose of tee ball is popcicles, right?

Blessed be.


Birthday Bowling
9:28 PM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
Dear Arthur,

Yesterday was your birthday. You turned eight. You were so terribly excited for this birthday, so much so that you insisted upon doing something fun. You chose ice skating but rink had closed for the season. Instead, we ended up inviting your whole class to bowl with us at the local bowling alley on Sunday, the day after your birthday. 
Apparently, a few other people in your class had birthdays about the same time: Andrea and Salvador and Ja'Caigh. I brought homemade chicken and sausage tamales and fruit with ground up chili for your class. Everyone wanted more and received seconds of fruit, but not of the tamales. It was noted by several of your classmates that I would have to make many, many more next time because they were so delicious.

On Sunday, we hoped for a big turnout. Your past birthdays had not been well-attended, so imagine our surprise when 11 kids showed up! Even Aunt Gloria came down from the farm to see you and wish you a happy birthday. She fetched your pizza and root beer and even reminded you when it was your turn to bowl. She took pictures of the two of you together. She had a great time, noting that someday we would have to go bowling with Papa. ("And get Papa drunk!" you exclaimed. She laughed.) 

You bowled a 78 - which was pretty good for an eight year old. After eating cake and opening some brand-new Lego kits, you thanked everyone for coming and handed out the Mixels we bought as a party favor. Everyone was excited to take them home and build them, saying, "Arthur sure likes Legos!" Later that afternoon, you declared that this was the best birthday ever and that you wanted to go bowing again next year. 

My dear, sweet boy: for this next year, I wish so much for you. I wish that you continue to grow into the good person that you're becoming. I wish for you to become more confident and more capable in your abilities. And I also wish for you to be yourself, always.

Blessed be. 


Someone Turns 5!
2:04 PM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
Dear Balin:

This year was a strange year for your birthday, and I apologize for that. You see, we had gone to Nashville for spring break. Your birthday fell on that Monday. You looked around the table at dinnertime, sighed, and stated very matter-of-factly: "I guess none of my friends are coming to my party tonight."

Once we reassured you that your party - with your friends - would be held the Sunday we returned, you could not stop talking about it for the rest of the week. You mentioned it at the Lego Store. The zoo. Numerous times to Uncle Johnny and Uncle LeeBob. It became your favorite topic of conversation, which, in retrospect, is pretty normal for an excited five-year-old.

You wanted a Paw Patrol cake, so I obliged, making a chocolate cake with chocolate icing topped with Rubble, one of your Paw Patrol dogs. He had dug a hole in the first layer with his tiny excavator which I had liberally sprinkled with blue candy crystals and cake crumbs to emulate dirt.

Many friends came to your birthday party, most of whom you had not seen since last summer. You insisted upon not inviting anyone from your class - which I found amusingly odd since you  always speak quite fondly of Hector and Andrew and Zachary.

You received many new Paw Patrol toys - most from your Auntie Blythe - and some fun Star Wars books that you have already read over and over again.

This year, Balin, I hope you continue to grow from a toddler into a charismatic, lovable little boy. I hope you keep practicing your knock-knock jokes and learn to tell them with ease and perfect timing. I want for you to continue to make people laugh.

Blessed be.


Lucky
1:30 PM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
For some reason I've been thinking a lot about an old, old discussion some Fairbanks friends and I were having. I am not at all sure how the subject had come up, but we were talking about "the best". Everyone agreed that one friend had the best, most beautiful house. Another friend's husband had the best body and everyone wanted their husband to look like that.

As shallow and self-absorbed as it was, I waited for someone to say they wanted something of mine - but it didn't come. No one said they wanted my house, my car, or my husband. No one wanted my family, my life, my anything. I was hurt, deeply hurt, not because my life wasn't great, but because it meant I was not special.

The funny thing is, I look back at that conversation and a part of me still feels a little sad. I've grown up a lot since then and don't rely on others so much to make me happy but there will always be that little part of me that wishes someone would say, "Wow, Bobbi. You're so lucky."

The thing is, I already know I'm lucky.

I have a husband who washes the dishes almost every night, who pitches in with the housework, and who makes enough to support us so that I can stay home and take care of the boys, if need be. I'm not afraid to speak to him about anything and everything. He supports me in my crazy endeavors.

I have two boys who are amazing human beings. They are creative and kind, intelligent and loving. They are gracious to their classmates and teachers. People remember them.

I live in a brand-new townhouse. I teach people English. I brought Imagination Library to Beloit. I take care of myself. I get to travel. I have sewing skills. I can (successfully!) write grants. I have an extended family that loves me. I have friends who like me for who I am.

There are more things that make me lucky, too. So even though it wasn't spoken those many years ago, I am incredibly lucky.

What makes you lucky?

Blessed be.


Normal
10:57 AM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
As a child, you grow up in a certain environment. You don't always have the ability to determine whether or not you exist in a normal or abnormal situation.

My sisters and I grew up in a tiny, 2-bedroom apartment in Barrow, Alaska. With such limited space, most people would have limited stuff, simply because at a certain point, you'd be falling over things just to get from one place to the next. 

I remember vividly, however, the stacks of boxes along the wall next to the door to the main complex. There was a desk under there, somewhere. The kitchen countertops were always covered with dishes or food because the cupboards were full of dishes, food, and papers. In fact, our pet birds lived in the kitchen since there wasn't room for them anywhere else (I don't even want to think about how unsanitary that was).

The thing is, all of this was normal to us girls. Some of our other friends had as much (or more) stuff in their homes, too. The "I might need it someday" mentality was very much alive - not just in our home - but in our community as well. Getting rid of stuff was unthinkable. 

My parents have since moved to Anchorage and their 3-bedroom home is filled with stuff. Some rooms have neat paths through the clutter from the door to the beds or the furniture. In other rooms, it's floor to ceiling piles of boxes, papers, and books. 

My parents are fairly neat hoarders; it's dusty and they have pets, but my mom maintains their living conditions fairly well considering their predicament. She vacuums regularly in the paths with visible carpet. 

My dad collects books and stamps in order to sell them and my mom keeps every single childhood memento - even scraps of paper or junky McDonald's toys. For my dad, stuff means money; for my mom, it's a tie to the past.

The problem is, the house isn't just full of Mom and Dad's stuff; there's a huge amount of stuff belonging to my sisters and my nephew as well. For one sister, this stuff is a remnant of a past relationship with her emotionally abusive ex. As cliche as it sounds, the stuff seemed to represent this barrier for her: life seemed somewhat livable because she was protected by a physical wall of stuff. My youngest sister still has stuff at my mom and dad's because her 2-bedroom condo is too full of toys and clothes to bring it to her house. She's not a really collector and I don't see her as a hoarder, she just has a lot of things from when her girls were little that she's interested in selling, but just hasn't gotten around to it yet. So, she has a mentality similar to Dad's.

And me? My home is not wall-to-ceiling full of stuff, but I do have old papers that I am in the process of getting rid of and I feel as though I could easily become a compulsive shopper. Thrift stores are my weakness and I feel (slightly) disappointed when I leave without buying anything. I love interesting jars and green Floraline vases. I have more than enough fabric for projects years in the making. I have upholstery fabrics that will (eventually) become tote bags. I've had some serious buyers remorse after some of my purchases and have had trouble giving certain things away. It's hard to shake the mentality that I need so much - in actuality, I need very little - and I find so many things that I want but don't have room for. 

Keeping clutter in check is all about self-control and I sometimes lack self-control. 

For instance, I received a birthday coupon from my favorite thrift store giving me $5 off my next purchase of $5 or more. The problem is that this thrift store is nearly two hours away, up at the farm. We have been busy every single weekend, so odds are I will not be using the coupon, which sends me into a slight panic every time I think about it because I cannot resist a good deal. I can't rush to the farm whenever there's a good deal up there and yet I feel this compulsion to do so. I know this is ridiculous and silly, but I can't help it.

This Spring, I aim to get my paper clutter out. I plan on getting a high school photo album made and the old pictures sent off to friends because I don't like it sitting around and - more importantly - I don't want that stuff anymore. Why keep it?

How about you? How is your Spring Cleaning going? What are you planning on getting rid of?

Blessed be. 


Lost
5:32 PM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
Today we went to the mall down in Rockford - just for a change of pace. It's larger than the Janesville Mall, which is the one we usually visit. 

We wandered through the packed building, musing why it was so busy (we had forgotten that Valentine's Day is tomorrow) and stopped for a snack of pretzels. The boys played at the indoor play area. At 5:20, it was time to go.

Balin complained he was thirsty so I took him to the bathrooms, thinking there was a drinking fountain over there as well. Robinson followed me over, reminding me that we had entered through the Sears.

"Where's Arthur?" I asked, noting that he wasn't right behind Robinson.

"I don't know," he answered, and went back to check the play area.

Arthur wasn't there. 

He wasn't there.

The next few minutes were spent frantically searching the area. Robinson found mall security. I offered up the picture I keep in my wallet. The security guard asked if there were any favorite store he might go into. I tried to keep calm, to fight the worry that was building up inside of me. My intuition told me it would be alright, that he wasn't in any danger, but as the minutes ticked by and the police were called, it became harder and harder to fight back the tears.

This happens to other people, I thought, not to me.

But it had happened - was happening and never had I felt so out of control. Other parents looked our way, their eyes full of pity. I didn't want their pity. I wanted my boy.

Then the text came: Found him! 

Several minutes later, a teary-eyed Arthur and Robinson were at my side. Part of me wanted to cry, another part wanted to demand why he didn't ask another mom with kids of help like he'd been taught, and another part of me wanted to hold him. 

So I held him. 

Later that night, as we walked into a packed Steak n' Shake, Arthur sobbed, "I thought you left me."

"No," I reassured him, "we would never leave you. We would always come looking for you."

Blessed be.


Birthday Fun
9:32 AM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
As many of my readers may or may not know, my aunt and I share a birthday. (Interestingly enough, my great-uncle does as well, but he has already passed so he doesn't get to share in the festivities.)

Last year we explored Cedarburg. This year, we decided upon a day trip to Watertown since it was between the farm and Beloit and neither of us had been there recently just to wander around.

Turns out, while it isn't a tourist mecca like Cedarburg, Watertown does have its own charm. There are two bakeries (one of which we actually visited and bought ourselves a cream puff to share) and a few thrift stores, including a pretty nice St. Vincent de Paul's, but no quilt stores, which is just about the only reason to go somewhere, right? Maybe the Mac N Cheese Contest one of the local businesses was putting on would make up for it!

Gloria treated for lunch as Mullen's, a place that's been in business since 1932. Grandma used to take Gloria there for ice cream and may have also taken me and my sisters, though I couldn't remember if I had ever been there before. We enjoyed extra thick chocolate malts and decided to bring the boys back this summer.

We exchanged gifts before saying goodbye. I hand-stitched yo-yos that Grandma had made into a pillow. She nearly cried when she saw it. Gloria gave me $25 in spending money which I promptly used to buy Robinson a couple sets of cocktail glasses. They were so cool I couldn't resist.

The rest of the week was spent celebrating with my students  who brought a cake and lots of food. Even the boys were invited to attend the feast (and they were excited because for some reason they really love going to the parties at my office).

We went to sushi the night of my birthday at Zen, the new sushi place downtown. The boys tried strawberry sushi and when we got home we made little R2-D2 desserts out of bananas. They were so excited to play Star Wars games and play with the light up balloons!

A couple of people from Pilates also gave me presents: Miriam gave me a tiara (which I wore the entire time I worked out) and Kinya gave me a Culver's gift card, a new water bottle, and fun socks to wear at Pilates. My family sent gift cards to Michael's and Jo-Ann's and Blythe even bought me a new quilt book I wanted and a gift certificate to my quilt store downtown.

All in all, it was a good birthday. I may be another year older, but I sure don't feel like I am!

Blessed be.


The Fortune Teller
10:03 AM - Posted by Bobbi - 0 comments
Robinson's holiday company party was in mid-January this year. It's always a bit strange to have a party weeks later than the actual holiday, at least to me, but that's what they do. Robinson claims it's because they don't want any of the temps to attend, though no one has actually said it aloud.

This year, the party had a fortune teller, complete with long skirt, hooped earrings, and handkerchief wrapped about the top half of her head. She walked around the room, shuffling her cards, looking for people to practice divination upon.

My friend Rachel was determined to get her fortune read and stalked the fortune teller from table to table until she finally pounced upon her as she was getting up from a table and practically dragged her to ours.

The fortune teller gave Rachel her reading first - which later Rachel said was completely and wholly inaccurate - and then asked me if I would like my cards read.

"Sure," I said.

"Is there anything you want to know about?" she asked.

"My professional life," I responded, since the only thing I was unsure about was Imagination Library and writing my novel.

She shuffled. I drew three cards. She interpreted, saying that I will stumble but the best thing is to get right back up.

Nothing surprising, in actually, but a good lesson in reinforcement. If something is hard, don't give up. Keep going. Someday it will get easier.

This year my Yule wish was to finish my novel. It's hard. It's so hard because I have committed myself to so much: quilts, Imagination Library, grant writing, my family, my boys - but I won't ever become a writer if I don't. So, I'm going to try; even though it is difficult and a big challenge for me to focus on that one thing.

I'm going to stumble. I'm going to get distracted. I'm going to fail a bunch. But I'm going to keep going.

Blessed be.