Helpful kinds of help

Things I think single parents everywhere should have free access to:

Bedtime police
Housecleaning fairies
Push-button hot suppers

Post-camping joy

In spite of the exhausting nature of that camping trip, when I think about it now, the fun parts were enough to compensate.

I loved how excited my kids were to be camping. I loved their sheer enthusiasm for sleeping in a tent, in sleeping bags. I loved letting them help set up their beds, unroll their sleeping bag, put the pillow & blankies just so - and then proceed to make it all messy by tumbling onto the bed just to check it out.

I loved watching them learn how to cook hot dogs over a campfire, and wait for a marshmallow to get roasted. I loved listening to their conversations at night.

"Don't those noisy people know it's bedtime?"
"Why is there smoke in the sky?"
"Can I have another marshmallow"
"Hey - you kids, it's night time and people are trying to sleep!"
"Mom, maybe next time, it would be a good idea if we brought some earmuffs"

And sometimes, I just wanted to gobble them up. "Grandpa, your camper is like a dollhouse!" "Your little house is AMAZING!" And while it was challenging to cope with both kids in the ER, having daughter there too helped to keep both me and son calmer. "Mom, can I have a snack? Do you think this TV works? Hey little guy, it's okay. Do you need a hug? The nurse will help you. Nurse Emily, did you know I'm allergic to 3 kinds of medicine? I get a big rash, and sometimes it makes me barf."

Then there's the marvelous and yet heartbreaking way a 3 year old explains a head injury.
"I fell and got a noggin floggin. Then it was blood on me. Then I went to the hobbital. They did a squirty thing, and I cried. I didn't like it. It was stinging me and I was bleeding. Then the docker was going to put stick-es in me, but he only painted my noggin flogging. I didn't like that, it made me cry and I was sad."

But we got back to the campground, and family was there, waiting with love, and hugs, and a hot dinner, and more marshmallows - and those are some of the best moments ever.

A weekend - summarized

A camping we will go... or, what happened when I went to a family reunion 2 states away from home.










Friday:
Long ass drive. Set up tent. Visit with family. Have dinner. Roast marshmallows. Attempt to sleep. Listen to daughter randomly wish that everyone had to go to bed at the same time. Fall asleep. Put son back in after rolling out of bed. Put daughter back in bed for same. Repeat about 3 times. Listen to rain start. Fall asleep again.
















Saturday:
Wake up. Eat breakfast in rain. Go to reunion. Return to tent to change son out of soaked-to-knees pants after building sandcastles with his cousins. Go to reunion. Return to tent to change completely soaked daughter after she "accidentally" went swimming when helping Dylan to build a raft. Decide energy is all gone, and nap is needed to restore it. Rest for 3.1 minutes. Sun comes out, tent gets hot. Give up and bring kids swimming. Feel bitchy the whole time. Go back to campground to put kids in shower & rinse off sand. Put daughter on potty, hang things on hooks, hear son WAIL. Pick up sad boy from floor, realize he's got a laceration in his forehead that goes to the bone. Put towel to head to stop the bleeding. Pick up stuff from hooks. Throw towel around naked daughter, walk as quickly as possible to parents camper. Hand son to Uncle, get paper towel & ice pack for head. Put clothes on daughter. Walk over to my campsite, get van. See park ranger, ask for directions to nearest ER. Put kids in van, drive to Ishpeming. Talk to son the whole time so he stays awake. Verdict: mild concussion, laceration irrigated (squirted) and sealed with dermabond (painted). Drive back to campground. Keep kids up too late to make sure son doesn't have adverse effects from glue or concussion.









Sunday
Wake up too early. Pack up camp. Drive. Drive. Drive. Drive. Drop brother off in Hibbing. See sister, husband & nephew. Drive. Drive. Drive. Home at last.

Bright and shiny

Today started out on the ridiculously grumpy and crabby end of my emotional spectrum. I woke up too early. It was raining. I forgot to eat breakfast before leaving the house. Traffic sucked. My computer was horrifyingly slow and email wouldn't open. I stopped for good coffee and a scone. It got me through restarting every thing and then calling tech support. One hour of the morning - gone.

This doesn't sound like an auspicious beginning to the day, and quite the opposite of bright and shiny. Depressing and sad almost. Stupid morning.

But... dah-dah-daaaah (pretend that's a heraldic blast of trumpets) Co-workers to the rescue!! The email issue was not just mine, and I was not the only writer in my aisle who woke up too early on the grumbly side of the bed. "Caribou coffee?" was the query - and the day that was all gross and grumpy started to improve.

So what if I was hopped up on caffeine for most of the day. So what if technology was a thorn in my side. I work with some really bright and shiny friends - and I'm so glad.

Plus - any group of co-workers that has an un-official plan for dealing with a zombie apocalypse is pretty darn awesome. You can be jealous now.

I don't love it.

There's something magical about language development in children. The first "mama" or "dada." Or a soft and complete little "have dat, pwease?" In spite of myself, in those moments, I am always certain that it is my FAVORITE moment. But time moves forward, and the moment passes, and the memory fades. But this time - oh - this time....

"I don't love it." That's what Little Boy says when he can't stand something. He doesn't love strawberries, or steamed cauliflower, or cheese with holes in it, or when there are no more fruit snacks.
"I don't love that, Muther!!" He won't say that he hates it - it's just the opposite of love for him.

Can you stay just exactly like this, little boy?

But I know you can't, because time moves forward.... and sometimes I don't love it.

Four P's.

This weekend, I FINALLY! finished the project of painting my bedroom. I've had the paint for almost 9 months. I've come to learn that there are just some things you can't rush.

Bad
In spite of numerous "helpful" suggestions on wallpaper removal; I learned that the best thing to remove 3 layers of newspaper and paste and old paint from rough plaster walls was steam and elbow grease. Swearing and death glares did nothing. Neither did fabric softener, or gel sprays, or asking the paper nicely to please get off my walls. Scrape. Read - oh look - the Russians are in Berlin! Scrape. Read -What? Which offensive? Why isn't this scrap story bigger? &^(@! Scrape. Read - 3 bedroom cottage for sale in WBL for $4500. I will cheerfully hate that wallpaper for the rest of my life, and yet continue to love the home I have. Maybe it was a character building experience. Maybe it was torture. I wish (also doesn't work) that the dreadful wallpaper was gone forever from my house, but that is still a triumph in the making.

Better
So far, I've used 18 gallons of plaster on the walls - yep, gallons. That gasp you just heard was me being shocked after doing that math - it's the equivalent of a tank of gas. And I'll need more for the stairwell and the upstairs hallway. In spite of the quantity though, I like plaster. I like how gloppy and tactile it is. I like seeing the difference between the new surface and the old surface. I like remembering when my dad taught me how to tape and seam drywall. I'm glad there's still plaster work on my future project list.

Best

Remember that paint? The paint that I had for 9 months? I love paint. I love color. I love what happens when color goes on a wall and a room is transformed into a completely different space. I chose and purchased all of the colors for my house shortly after I closed. I wanted to be ready to paint as soon as possible. I am not a pink bedroom kind of girl, but I lived in a pink bedroom because there were so many other projects to finish first - kitchen, kids' room living room, bathroom, dining room - it's a long list that's been checked off already. I could live with pink, because I knew Toasted Wheat, and Yorkshire Brown , and California Poppy were waiting. Now that they are on the walls - it feels like a victory.

What is the point of this post? It's a reminder to myself that it takes time to get where you want to be. There aren't magic words. There will be delays and unexpected events that take you from your focus. What did I learn? Paper. Plaster. Paint. Patience.

A beginning

This is the founding post of my personal blog; Sugar and Sisu.

Sugar is pretty easy to understand - it's a sweetener, and makes things taste good. This is part of the title because I believe that life is sweet.

Sisu is a harder concept to define. Sisu is Finnish, encompassing a sense of perseverance and determination to continue. Wikipedia has a longer description. Sisu is part of my heritage, and something I've come to realize has also defined my life.

And now a short autobiography to provide some context for future postings:
I come from a large family. I have two children of my own. I was married for 14 years, but am now separated. That's a complicated story that I won't go into now. I'm a technical communicator, and I love my job. I've recently purchased an adorable 2-bedroom cottage built in 1936 and am in the process of renovating it.

I'm writing this blog for my own sake - but also to expand on some of the thoughts that I don't include on Facebook. I'll share stories here about my kids, my house, my job, and just life in general -- Sugar and Sisu -- life is sweet, and we continue.