Matt Klee

Saturday

I've been pacing around all afternoon sort of obsessing over my friend Jen's facebook page. I took the girls to run some errands this morning and we got home around noon. I put some things away, started a load of laundry and absentmindedly checked facebook like I often do. There were several posts from friends to my friend Jen letting her know they were thinking of her, had her in their prayers and were so sorry for her loss. She's a dog lover and I'm thinking at this point that she and her husband Matt have lost their dog, Bear. Before I send my condolences, though, I think I'd better verify that this is what has happened, so I go to her facebook wall. Here, I can see more posts people have offered and it quickly becomes apparent that she is in the middle of a much bigger tragedy than losing a beloved pet. My mind races and I sort of panic for her. It's been less than two years, I think, since she lost her dad to a tragedy while he vacationed in Mexico, so I'm reeling at how this could be.

I shoot a message to a mutual friend of ours because at this point it's apparent that it's not their dog, Bear, but her husband, Matt.

Rewind twenty years.... Jen and I are sorority sisters from the same graduating class. We share a major and friends, though neither of us are members of the other's tightest circle. We graduate and more or less lose touch with each other until facebook reconnects all of us. For me, this is 2008.

You know how you're friends with someone, you lose touch and then reconnect on facebook and wonder why you were ever friends in the first place? You realize you actually liked this person more when you knew them less? And then there are others who were your friends, you lose touch,  you reconnect on facebook, realize you have so much in common and wonder why on earth you weren't even closer friends in the first place back when you were actually friends? Well, Jen is in the latter group for me.

In knowing her through social media I found we have a lot in common. She's a total foodie. I am not, but she writes about the things she loves to cook on her blog and I wish I could eat them. We connected over blogging. She is a teacher who loves summer. Matt loves fishing. She and Matt love mountain biking together. Shane and I have talked about leaving the girls with family in Bend so we could ride in Hood River (Jen's Hood) and have them show us around their local trails. Last weekend when we rode the Mckenzie River Trail I thought of them. Just before we'd left for the weekend she'd posted that her mountain bike + dirt = cheap therapy. I'd commented that we were going to get us some therapy up the Mckenzie River that very weekend. Shane and I have found that mountain biking is something we love doing most together and that it's a rare thing to want to do most with your partner. Through her posts, Jen and Matt seem to me to be head over heels for one another. But what's even better is that they really seem to be great friends. Best friends. Not because she ever said so, but because when that's true you can just tell. And in getting to know her online, years later, I think I saw some of us in them. They can laugh together, for crying out loud and if there's not that, then what is there?

So when our mutual friend messaged me back that the tragedy had, in fact, happened to Matt and that he died following a biking accident yesterday at Whistler, a place Shane and I love to ride, I just sat staring in front of my computer. Stunned. In disbelief.

Then I busied myself. I paced. I folded laundry. I packed our bags for a trip we're taking and checked her facebook wall. Then, I started more laundry, fussed with a school project and checked facebook again. When this happens to someone you care about whose life looks, in many ways, similar to your own, you start scrambling for what to do. As if there's something to do. What is there to do? There is nothing that can be done. Or undone. It's heartbreaking.

Monday

I find myself just teary. Teary over the idea of just going back to our routine because it's Monday. Teary because while I'm doing Monday, Matt's family and friends are immersed in what will forever be among the hardest days of their whole lives. Teary over the idea that the cliché about living life to its fullest and tomorrow not being guaranteed, isn't a cliché at all.  For those who loved him, it's today's reality.

I never met Matt. I thought I would. In reading what is quickly becoming his legacy it's a shame I didn't. He was loved by so many, and he clearly lived his life to the fullest. I know he loved his family and loved the outdoors. The impact he had on his community is far reaching, yet he's described by those who knew him as a humble leader; a kind soul who could make things happen. You can read more about him here. Then, if you feel compelled, you can make a donation to a scholarship fund in his name here. In knowing a bit about who he was it's not surprising, then, that the girl he married got on her mountain bike today for some cheap therapy. Though I think it's brave, I imagine it's exactly what he expected her to do.

Hang in there, Jen. We're so sorry. Shane's heart and mine are aching for you. May you always find your Sweet Sweet Love with you on whatever trail you're riding.

We Made It!

Moments weren't pretty.  I couldn't sleep last night, and today I boohooed more than once, but never actually in front of students.  A report from the cafeteria was that Libby got a little overwhelmed in the morning, but never shed tears.  Shane later told me that Libby didn't cry, but he did.

As my class arrived on the playground for  morning recess, Libby's class was leaving the playground, so I ducked behind Shelly, our Speech Pathologist, who had just been with the kinders and she reported that Libby was doing great.  Jennifer had a conversation with her in her classroom, and also told me there hadn't been a single crisis yet.  The adults in the building know her and connected with her, putting this momma (somewhat) at ease.

When I arrived home 45 minutes ago both girls were clamoring to tell me about their days.  Peyton said stayed on the swing for the entire recess and Libby loves that her class gets two recesses.  She played on the monkey bars and climbed the entire length of them, "without YOU mom!"  Sigh.  Yep.  Without me.

Good day.  Maybe tomorrow will be easier.

Kindergarten

The start of school is stressing me out this year. After careful thought, I'm sure it has little to do with school and teaching, and everything to do with school and parenting. Libby is starting kindergarten tomorrow. Tomorrow. But she was born yesterday. So naturally, tomorrow feels like it came five years too soon.

Today was "Meet Your Teacher" day at school, and our dear friend Tracy took Libby to meet her teacher, since I'm a teacher and I had to be in my classroom so my students could meet their teacher. About half way through the hour Tracy, Michael and the girls came through, picked up Libby's school supplies and headed to kindergarten. I have to go to another place in my mind while I'm at school, because it's so hard to be the teacher when I want to be the mom. And when thirty other families are hoping to leave their child with a teacher who isn't crying, well, holding it together is important.

As a kid, I was a clinger and a crier. I held tight to my mom while I worked up enough courage to let go. Watching Libby take this next step, even though she seems to be taking it in stride, makes me want to cling to my mom. All those feelings come rushing back and it's hard.

We go to a great school. The adults are caring and qualified. The program is strong. It's more diverse than others. It's familiar to her. It's all the things you want your kids' school to be. And still, letting her go to kindergarten is hard. What if she's lonely? What if others aren't kind? What if she gets hurt and wants me? What if someone eats her circus animal cookies right out of her lunch? What if she poops a super smudgy one and there aren't baby wipes and she comes home with an itchy bum?

See? See where I go? Oy.

I'm armed for a worst case scenario. I'll be ready with hugs, kisses, band-aides, cookies and, if need be, a freshly laundered pair of unders.

After meeting her teacher today she wanted to talk about the logistics of tomorrow and was disappointed that she wouldn't be going to work with me. I told her that Daddy would want to meet her teachers too, see the cafeteria, see how school works, and hold her hand on her first day. She told me she didn't need to hold Daddy's hand and since she knows where her room is now, she could walk there all by herself. I had to explain that Daddy might want to hold her hand because this was all new for him. The truth is, I'm sure I couldn't hack it.

My class starts lunch as hers is finishing so I'm hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the cafeteria or on the playground. Kindergarten, here we come....

Sweet Summer

Don't end.

Breathing Deep and Finding Perspective

How cute is she?

Remember how I said I'd quit posting about my health? Yeah, I totally lied about that. I went back to see the nurse at our district clinic on Monday mostly because a doctor friend of mine suggested that maybe I don't have asthma, but instead, whooping cough. It helped that I was all kinds of wheezy for that appointment, so the nurse (who is my personal hero of the moment) was very interested in getting to the bottom of all of this. After another breathing treatment (which seemed to make things worse), swabbing my nose for whooping cough, taking blood and going for chest x-rays she called to tell me I have pneumonia, and to sleep for the next week. Well, well. Happy Birthday to me. Now, I think we might be gettin' somewhere. For now, I'm on another stair ride and on day 2 of 14 of a superbiotic that makes me ultra sensitive to the sun apparently, because my skin now has a healthy glow like I've been laying by the pool for a week. Nice little side effect.

I did go to work this morning just to drop off notes for my sub and make sure the place wasn't overthrown yet. Turns out I'm totally replaceable there. I can leave plans and another qualified individual can carry them out. Good to know. Good perspective for me, because lately I haven't been my best at work or at home. This morning though, I took two deep breaths on my inhaler and didn't even cough. Progress.

Riddle of the Day....

Question: How many nooks and crannies are in a Britax car seat?

Answer: More than I thought. Wait till your three-year-old gets carsick in that seat, and you spend the next day and a half trying to track down just where that smell could be coming from.

Good News: She had just handed my iPhone off to big sister before getting sick.

More good News: I think I found the source on the second scrubbing. Seat is now covered in Fabreeze and is drying in front of the fire..... again.

Even more good news: When you are taking steroids on Spring Break, you have an unbelievable amount of energy to get things done. Things that might otherwise be irritatingly inconvenient. Also, while on steroids, your sense of smell comes back.

Take away for next time: Don't let the three-year-old play on the phone while the vehicle is moving.

Reminder

Last fall I was eligible for a new phone and decided to make the leap to a smart phone. I wanted the iPhone. I went to our wireless provider to get it. But the techy-smart-twenty-something behind the counter waved a Droid in front of me with a bigger screen and convinced me it was better. I took the bait. I took my new phone home and didn't like it.

Shortly after, Shane became eligible for a new phone and (because he's awesome) he said to me, "I'll take your phone. You can get your iPhone." And I did. Awesome.

Last week I updated it. And by I, I mean I plugged it in, and it updated itself. Since updating it, there appeared a new icon on the screen called "reminders". It's exactly what it sounds like. You type in what you're likely to forget, and your phone won't let you. I opened it, played with it a bit, typed in an insignificant reminder, decided (since I use a calendar app) I'd probably never use this one and closed it.

Fast forward to just before noon today when Libby and I were standing at the front door waiting for Peyton to change her clothes again, before we could walk out the door. Mind you, clothes are an issue in this house. They are our issue. Things have gotten better, but sayings such as "No, you can't wear a leotard to Costco. Okay, yes, you can wear it if you add a tutu. Not that tutu. Because it's too big to buckle you into your car seat, that's why. And please take off your ballet slippers and put some shoes on." These exasperation filled conversations are not uncommon. They're less a conversation and more of a barking of orders while pleading with them to please move faster.

We were right in the middle of such an episode today when my phone made an unfamiliar sound. Not a text. Not an email alert. Something new. I took it out of my bag, put in my passcode and got my reminder.....

Bossy iPhone.

Coincidence? Hardly.

September

I worked a lot this weekend. More than I'd like to admit. And when I was expressing frustration about it to Shane he said, "I know you. This is the September you. You're still in your organizing phase. Pretty soon you'll get into the rhythm of the school year and get your program dialed. Then, you won't be so tired and frustrated with how much you're working. Just give yourself a couple of weeks."

He's right. Today, I was home by four. The girls sat with me at the kitchen table and we "worked" together for a bit. Shane asked Libby if she wanted to feed Grunny his dinner. She responded, "Yeah Dad. It's what I do." Duh. Then, we generated a list of "B" words since this is B-week in Libby's class. The list was:

Bebo

Becky

Bones

bow

boat

bathtub

Bruiser

broom

book

ball

bear

belly button

button

bee

banana

bubbles

bat

back

baby

and

bird.

Tomorrow she has to take B things for the table at school. She chose beads, a bird (stuffed) and Barbie. Holy B-week Batman. Is she really already doing all of this? She is. Then tonight after baths she showed me how she's becoming an expert at climbing the interior door jams. Daddy even lifted them up so they could hang from the molding by their fingertips. I love this family. But in September I miss getting to have so much time with them.

I'll leave you with some shots of my efforts to make Duck Fans out of my girls. So far it's working. Here they are on the last game day.....

Hey. Cancer. You don't know who you're messin' with....

Just so you know, I texted her today and asked this question: Can I blog about you, or is it still too early to make this all about me? I got the green light with the caveat that I make her look hot, and rally players and prayers for TEAM BEBO. I'm on it.

Becky, a.k.a. Bebo, one of my nearest and dearest friends on the planet, told me this week that she was having a lump in her breast looked at. My text that followed was, (and I quote) "Keep me posted when you get the "all clear" from your doc. And by doc, I don't mean Groshong, though I know he'd be willing to take a look."

And then........

The call that came yesterday wasn't of the "all clear" variety. Rather, a stage two lump in her breast. U.G.H.

I actually have better words to describe the feeling that came over me, but in the event that any of my students, or their families should ever happen upon my little corner of the internet, well....I sorta need my job.

I hate cancer. Hate it. Admittedly too, I've become a little complacent about it since my mom kicked its ass in 2007. Complacency is a luxury no cancer survivor has. I don't forward the emails. I don't post about it on facebook. I do the Heaven Can Wait Walk, but suddenly that doesn't seem to be enough. With this week's news, though, this ugly, yet familiar enemy has picked a fight with another loved one of mine. So I have this to say to you, cancer....

DO

YOU

EVEN

KNOW

WHO

YOU'RE

MESSIN'

WITH?

You are messing with my friend who always has the right words to say.

Who, by her nature, puts all others before herself and seems happiest doing so.

My friend who did this on my birthday, and this for Peyton's birthday.

Who laughed and cried with me through the birth of my second child, and only missed my first because I was out of town.

My friend who watches all of the Harry Potter movies with me.

My friend who takes better care of my own dog than I do.

My friend who, even as I'm typing this, just sent me a text which included the words, "juggles, jiggles, boobies, cookies" and is making me laugh one day after her diagnosis.

My friend who loves school supply shopping, sharpened pencils and the smell of new crayons.

My friend who's already laughing about her medical marijuana card, but might not be kidding.

My friend who loves my kids almost as much as they adore her.

My friend who loves my cheesy potatoes even though I can't cook.

My friend who sees to it that I get my roots done.

My friend who sat with with me as we lost our beloved Bruiser, and who was the last person to spark a wag of his tail.

My friend who is a lover and a fighter.

So cancer, watch yourself. You're gonna lose this battle and she'll embarrass you as she takes you down. She isn't only my friend. She's a wife, daughter, sister, aunt, entrepeneur, leader, encourager and nurturer. And though I've always known she's a fighter, you ain't seen nothin' yet.

P.S. I baked tonight.

Rope Swing!

I came into the kitchen this morning with the first goal being coffee and Libby says, "Mom, let's make a rope swing for our bedroom today. And let's do it while Daddy's not home so we can surprise him!"

Oh my gosh! She's Me!

It gets even better. Five minutes after our initial conversation, Shane came home and Libby says, "Daddy, can we build a rope swing for our bedroom?" He just stood there staring at her. And I think he's trying to find a way to answer without letting her down. And then he says (and I cannot believe my ears) "Um, lets go look at your room. Where do you want to put it?"

"What!?" I cannot believe what I'm hearing. He's never so eager to fulfill my ambitions. I usually get answers like:

"No."

"That's impossible."

"It wouldn't work anyway."

"That kind of torque on the eaves will ruin the exterior framework of our house."

Whatever.

But I've had a little revelation this morning.... He doesn't want to disappoint the adorable four year old when she asks. Ha! The possibilities! I need to take her out to lunch and explain to her how she has always wanted to add a second story to our house. One with a large master closet that includes a washer and dryer in the island.....

Later that day, the rope swing did get installed. But not in her bed room like she'd hoped. Don't you worry babe. We'll keep working on him together. And I think the goal was to make her happy. Mission accomplished (x2).

May Day Poo Poo!

These are both pictures of Peyton taken in the last month of what appears, on the surface, to be a simple inability to slide forward.

On a larger scale, I think, it's more an illustration of our child who gets herself into trouble and usually realizes it only after it's too late. A leap before looking sorta thing. By then, there may be any number of results. Crying. Panicking. Shrieking. Often a Time Out. And it's not just on playground equipment. Yesterday, we were wrestling and tickling, I made a motion to remove myself from her choke hold, only to have her grab a handful of my hair and yank. I mean YANK. The look on her face that followed said, "I know I'm in trouble here. I really shouldn't have done that. I don't know what went wrong. It all just happened so fast. May Day, May Day! Someone? What's my next move?!"

I'll catch her having a dialogue with herself sometimes and when I interject with something like, "Peyton, I love you." Her reply without missing a beat is, "No you don't."

Ugh. What is that? She's quick. Witty. Funny even. But sometimes she so says the wrong thing and always before there's even a thought. Ah, and therein lies the problem. There's no time for a thought.

And she's at that age where everything is funnier when followed by the words "poo poo". For example, "I love you poo poo head Libby (suprisingly, Libby does not feel the love). I'm wearing my poo poo panties! I saw that man's poo poo nose! I love poo poo water balloons. I see Grunny's poo poo bottom! I'm wearing my leggings so you can't see my poo poo pooooooper!"

You get the idea. Three is sooooooo the new two.

When we got home from camp today (sticking her bottom in my general direction): "Mom, where is my lunch and my poopie buns?" I think she was telling me she was hungry, but actually making sense is always secondary to including a poo reference. Sigh.

Unexpected Solitude

I had a professional development day on Friday. We had writing training all day, and then I was going to drive to Bend after. Was. Shane and the girls had gone to Bend on Thursday so he could snowboard on Friday. Thursday after school I ran around town kid-free. I went to the mall, grabbed a burger at Dickie Joe's, filled my car with gas and just before I made it home my car quit running right in the middle of me driving it. It was the weirdest thing. Nelson suspected my fuel pump was the culprit.

On Friday I rode my bike to work. At about noon I realized driving myself to Bend wasn't going to happen, but I'd also loved a quiet night on Thursday, so Friday night was like an added bonus. I'd laid on the couch, snuggled with Grunny and recharged. Today, I worked on a project for school and spent some time cleaning out toys (and the candy bowl); things I can't do in front of the girls.

In the name of seeing the glass half full here's what happened in the wake of me being stuck at home..... The minute my car died (on a quiet street by our house, not on the bridge on Beltline) Devin drove passed me, u-turned and kept me company while I waited for Nelson. Nelson came to my rescue despite that I called in the middle of the Duck game and he and Devin towed my car home. Then, he offered me a car to drive. When I got to school yesterday both Suzy and Amber told me I should've called and they'd have come to get me. Uncle Bones called today to see if I needed to go anywhere. Toby and Melissa handed me the keys to the car they weren't using today. Antone brought over a gas can, since tomorrow my tank will have to be drained. Do I have the best friends, or what? And though I was over the moon to see my family tonight, two full days of a quiet house and no duties whatsoever was a nice little vacation. I haven't done that in a long time. I'm looking forward to a little noise around here tomorrow....

P.S. I asked Peyton tonight what she wants to be for Halloween. "A fishing guide. Or a turtle."

Milestones

I know in our kids' lives some milestones will be bigger than others. At one time we had sleeping through the night down. In the last week it's all gone south. Really south. I'm exhausted. So sleep deprived, that I've wondered if a return to breastfeeding might be the answer. And you know how happy I am to have closed that chapter. Bedtime is one meltdown after another and I'm sleeping, or rather, not sleeping every night with an elbow or someone's heel stuffed in my ear. Oddly, even Grunden has been a little clingier than normal. I think I might've been a little arrogant at one time in my claims against co-sleeping and family beds. At this point I'm co-co-co sleeping and I'm starting to wonder if there's more than one family in our bed. And, make no mistake, I've never been more against it. This afternoon, I found myself ignoring the girls so I could research king size mattresses. I reeeeeeeally hope tonight is better, because I'm taking my class to the ballet tomorrow. And most of them are boys. And I'm gonna need to bring my A game.

On a brighter side, Libby did achieve a milestone tonight though that may redeem our course. At bedtime (sniff), After books and prayers (sniff), our Libby Lou sang (get this) the entire Oregon Fight Song start to finish.

All.

By.

Herself.

Are you kidding me?

Who needs to sleep?

Just kidding.

I do.

I reeeeeeeally, really do.

Surfacing for Air

It has been quite a busy few weeks. The first week I reported back to work (sans students) was the hardest. But, true to all the advice received on motherhood and working, it has gotten easier. The single determining factor that makes the whole thing work is that I know my kids are in the best hands possible. I've had a harder time adjusting than they have. This, I know for sure. I just miss them like crazy. I miss my life of the last 3 years, 279 days 12 1/2 hours and some change. But who's counting? I just really loved being home with my girls.

Thankfully, standing before elementary students feels like riding a bike. Once I've gotten all of the procedural tidbits in place that make our day run smoothly, it does. We're getting there. Not to mention how lucky I am to be working with some women who understand my tendency to boo hoo. ....and they don't make me stop.

But, enough about that. Today I managed to get home reasonably early and have the afternoon I thought possible even as a working mom. We (in Libby's words "my whole family!" and in Shane's words "a wolf pack of four" (a nod to the movie "The Hangover")) jumped on the trampoline, took the girls to the park, went to dinner at Dickie Joe's and finished the night at the Nelsons. Perfect. Just the kind of thing we'd do when I wasn't working.

So, I guess working doesn't mean giving up what I love, just sharing who I love. I was never good at sharing....

And hey, Shane was behind the camera for a change. I like having pics with my girls.

Static Heads.

Best. Job. Ever.

Dear Libby and Peyton,

I’m sitting here thinking of the two of you on the eve of my last official day as a stay at home mom. On Tuesday I’ll go back to work full time. In your lives I haven’t even worked a day, and I worry about what this change will mean for you. I never thought I’d get to stay home with you as long as I have. I’ve loved it. We owe Daddy so much gratitude for working so hard these last years to make it possible for me to be home. I’ve loved our slow mornings and pancake breakfasts. I’ve loved that you’ve been able to play with neighborhood friends, any time of day, in your underwear. I’ve loved eating popcorn and watching Annie even after the two of you barely touched your dinner. I’ve loved schlepping the two of you all over town in sun and rain and taking you on every errand. I’ve loved play dates, gymnastics, dance class and a futile attempt at swim lessons. I’ve loved the moments when I’ve had the time and patience to let you do something yourself even though it takes so much longer than doing it for you. I’ve loved watching the friendship develop between the two of you. Recently, I’ve loved listening to conversations between the two of you; conversations where I’m no longer needed.

I know I’m not the first mom to wrestle with this dilemma to work or not to work. It is quite the conversation among women and tends to be a pretty hot button issue. It’s not a hot topic for me. It’s never been about what other women, other families should do. Frankly, I don’t care. For me the struggle is simply this: I care about you. I love being with YOU.

People are quick to point out our ideal daycare situation. It is ideal and I’m so grateful. And because I’m a teacher, in a few short years the two of you and I will have the same schedule. That’s true too. Other children go to daycare. True. There are worse things. True. True. True. But, that’s the point. It just isn’t about any of that. For me it’s this: Being home with you for nearly four years has been……well, amazing. An amazing I didn’t imagine before you were born. We’ve not been without plenty of moments that fell short of amazing, but overall I wouldn’t trade one sleepless night, one blowout diaper or one projectile barf in my direction. I’d keep every moment because included in those moments are the sweetest snuggles, heart wrenching smiles and milestones that I’ve been present for. Being with you has been the single best use of my time, patience, energy and talent. Ever.

It all comes down to being present. If you grow up to be decent, loving people I’ve done my job. I know I can still do that job while being a working mom. But, I want more for you, more for us. One day I hope you’ll be able to look back on your life and say, “My mom was present. She was there for me. She hung up her phone, closed her laptop and turned off the t.v. for me. She looked me nose to nose and really got me. She showed up when I needed her to. She sees ME.”

When you were born I was surprised that loving you felt like such an ache; a connection I’d been told about but didn’t fully understand. In an instant we’d been handed this responsibility to care for you, protect you, love you. I hope I’ll always be able to communicate my love for the two of you in word, but more importantly in action. I love you both so much. Thanks for the opportunity to be with you. Because of Daddy and the two of you, the most important job titles I’ll ever hold are Wife and Mom. Paid or not. I love you to the moon and back.

Love, Mom

Confessions of a Neurotic Procrastinator

My to do list goes on for miles right now. I worked in my classroom for two and a half hours this morning, which is about the girls' limit. When my list gets this long I tend to check out by finding other things to do. Creative things. Things I should NOT be spending my time on. I'm hoping this charming little character flaw will someday make me millions. I spent a good ten minutes this morning staring at a wall in my classroom thinking it would be the perfect spot to paint a mural of the illustrations of Shel Silverstein. It really would be great. It would create such an inviting learning environment. But, I really don't have time for murals. I'm just avoiding a shelf of curriculum I should be learning, posters that need to be hung, lessons to be planned. Case in point (sit down if you know me well).... I haven't even watched t.v. this summer. No reality t.v. even, and reality t.v. and I LOVE each other. I'm struggling to focus on doing what's important. Things that'll really matter at the end of my life. On the day I take my last breath, I doubt I'll look back and say, "I really wish I'd painted that mural."

Instead, here's what I did do this week. The lunch boxes were $3.99 at Target. The velcro letters on the front took a lot less time than it would take me to paint a mural, and I still had time to take the girls swimming. Mural schmural.

The girls are sleeping. I'm gonna go take a look at that list....

I'm a lover, not a fighter.... No, really.

We've got some pretty massive (for us) changes on the horizon, and lately the activity around our house seems like the nesting you'd be doing if you were about to welcome an infant into your lives. We've installed a sprinkler system, replaced two lawns, a deck, built a sand box and moved the contents of our storage shed and our garage. We are go go go during the week and then bust outta here on the weekends to try and take in summer before it all slips away. That's what it feels like; it's all slipping away. I'm trying to stay in the moment and not let the panic of working outside the home sneak up on me. But let me tell you, that monster is waiting around every corner and loves to taunt me by rearing its head. I cannot escape the fact that I'm about to start doing something very different with my time. Maybe that's why lately I'm a bit more confrontational than normal....

Rewind to about a week ago.

Exhibit A:

I love playing out front with the girls. I love talking to the neighbors and we have a lot of foot traffic on our street and people are friendly. What I do not love is that we live on a straight stretch of 25 mile per hour road, where people generally go 40-45. Many go even faster. It feels like we live on a highway. There are also lots of small kids and dogs in the neighborhood. So, the other day as I'm leaving I notice our side gate is open and I pull back into the driveway to close it. As I'm getting back in my car a 70s-ish Chevy Chevelle (I know nothing about cars, but this one had a giant label across its windshield to identify it) takes off and goes hauling past our house way too fast. So I follow him in a low speed (25 mile an hour to be exact) pursuit. I go to the end our our road and then wind through the neighborhood, but of course there's no way I'm going to catch him. So, I surrender the chase and head (on a main street) toward town to resume my errands. Three blocks later the Chevelle pulls onto the road behind me. I watch him in my mirror and when he takes a right, I take the next one. I wind through a neighborhood until I spot him pulled over talking to a man in a Suburban loaded with kids. By this time my heart is pounding. This is soooooo not like me, but I'm so fed up with the speed on our street. So, I pull up to where the two men are talking.

I ask him, "Hey were you just out on [our street] driving north?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Listen I'm not just trying to be a hard---, but I live on that street. I have a two and a three year old. We play in the driveway as do lots of other families. There's really no reason for you to be driving that fast, and we'd sure appreciate it if you'd slow down."

"Uh, yeah. No problem. I can do that. Sorry."

"Thanks."

And I drive off. Then Libby says, "Mom, who was that man?" and I say, "Just a man who drives too fast. End of story. Well, not really. After that I called Shane to tell him what I'd done. For me, it was a small victory, and he was a nice guy. It's not going to solve the problem, but at least that guy's not going to be the problem.

Exhibit B:

Now, fast forward to last Friday. We're returning home from lunch at The Scandinavian Festival and pass by a driveway on our street where five people are piling into a small car. That car pulls in behind me and just as I'm about to turn into our driveway I look into my rear view mirror. I wish I hadn't looked into my mirror. Because what I see is the teenage driver of that car with his window down, arm out, making gestures that I can only interpret to mean, "Get the ---- outta my way. You're slowing me the ---- down." Oh, I wish I hadn't looked in my mirror, because now I'm hot. Not Halle Berry in 007 hot, but more Steve Martin buying hot dogs, hot. I slam on my brakes, put it in park and tell Shane, "Stay in the car." The problem with getting so fired up, is that much of that confrontation is a blur. I know I came at this kid yelling. I know I told him that I have small kids and that there's no reason for him to be speeding past my house. I know his rebuttle was the fact that he was "only driving 26 miles per hour." to which I replied, "ONLY BECAUSE I WAS IN YOUR WAY GOING THE SPEED LIMIT!" But from inside the car Shane heard him talk back to me, which was enough to get him hot, so when I returned to my driver's seat, my passenger was missing. Then when I jumped back out of the car to break up the fight that I'd started, I realized I'd put my car into reverse, and now it's slowing rolling toward the car behind us. I jumped back in, put it in park (phew) and got back out only to stand in between my husband and this gesturing kid's front seat passenger who is now out of his seat. He appears not to be a teenager and is no small guy. Shane later told me the three kids in the backseat were staring wide eyed, but seemed intent on staying put. I also thought I heard someone tell Shane to get control of his wife, but maybe those were just my own thoughts.

In the end some neighbors had quite a show, no one fought and luckily our next door neighbor who almost dialed 911, didn't. Peyton was asleep, but Libby heard the entire row. I'm not proud of that. Later that day, the father of the girl in the backseat of that car came down and introduced himself, shook our hands, had a beer and agreed about the speed problem on our street and the disrespectful nature of some teenaged drivers. I think his words were, "Sometimes punk--- kids need an ---whoopin'." I like this guy. A lot. For the record, neither Shane nor I are interested in whoopin' on anyone. Least of all, drivers who are still kids themselves. But, I definitely took this one personally. My tolerance is down. My hackles are up. And if I'm really honest, it probably has to do with what's on our immediate horizon. Not just the speed of the drivers on our street. Maybe we all just need to slow down and spend some time takin' it in.

I think it's no coincidence that a friend of mine posted this on facebook today. Talk about taking the high road. If this guy can do what he did......