January 3, 2012

28 MONTHS?!

Little Bear,

Yesterday you turned twenty-eight months old.

You are a rock star. A stud, rapscallion and scamp. You are a one-man circus. A comedian. You are a world full of love stuffed tight in a disheveled little body. You are both Cooper and Steere. You are a hungry billy goat, a filthy little rabbit and an adorable bear cub all rolled in one. You are a perfect set of lips attached to 32 pounds of pure exuberance. You are mine.

You are also TWO. You have been repeating the phrase “I want juice box” over and over and over for the last ten minutes in a high-pitched whine that makes me feel violent. Everything is YOURS and you will fight for it. You have opinions. Strong ones. You are destructive.  You break toys, furniture and appliances on a daily basis. You spit on me. You are still mine.

You are creative, defiant and messy.

You are sweet and earnest.

You are expressive and hilarious.

You roll like a BOSS.

And you complete our little family.

Thank you for another adventure-filled month!

Love,

Your Mama

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January 1, 2012

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year, friends and captivating strangers!

You guys, the past six weeks have been preposterously blog-worthy and, sadly, I haven’t had a chance to sit down and write about any of it. Instead, I’ve kept the DLV’s busy with emergency lunches discussing mortifying email faux pas (ahem, AMY), outrageous behavior, and the fact that I had to MAIL MY POOP to someone.

Yup.

But, I just got home for a spur-of-the-moment weekend getaway with my boys (Big and Little) and it was precisely what I needed to recharge my batteries. Hopefully I’ll be able to regale you with old tales and we ease into the new year. In the meantime…

I’m a sucker for New Year’s resolutions. I love fresh starts, clean slates, and above all else, LISTS. But I’ve tried to keep my resolutions reigned in over the past few years to keep them relevant and (more importantly) doable. Last year, my single resolution was to raise Roper to love the outdoors. I think we may have overachieved in that area, since we can’t seem to get him to come back inside most days.

If you see him roaming the neighborhood alone, please return him to us. Fed and watered, preferably.

This year, we decided on the following (single) resolution for each family member in 2012:

TOBY: Get us moved into the shop/house.

ROPER: Get thee potty trained!!!

MOLLY: Quit having nervous breakdowns.

Each resolution is huge, each is important, and each affects every other member of the household, so we’re attacking them all as a team. Wish us luck!

P.S. Since starting this post five minutes ago, I came up with more resolutions for myself including: brush up on my Spanish, learn a song on the guitar, complete another triathlon and finish the novel I started in 2011. Queue the nervous breakdown…

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December 21, 2011

2011 Christmas Letter

Dear friends and family,

We apologize for sending a Christmas email instead of mailing cards. Our maid usually hand-addresses our envelopes (and writes our letters), but she has fallen ill with the bird flu. So we’ll do our best to fill you in on our own.

It’s been a busy year for everyone in the family. Toby has been working as a consultant for the CERN laboratory, helping redesign bits of the powerful particle accelerator that smashes subatomic particles together. He is not at liberty to discuss the details. Molly has been flying to and from California quite often since the Kardashians signed her on as the booty model for their clothing line. In the process, the girls have taught Molly to apply false eyelashes and smoky eye makeup like a pro.

Not to be left out, Roper has just been signed on as the Gerber yet-to-be-named-awkward-stage-between-toddler-and-pre-teen. The company had been hounding us ever since we refused to sign Roper on as the Gerber Baby – we wanted him to enjoy his infancy, for crying out loud! Since they went to great effort to create an entire new product line around him, we signed a ten-year contract on Roper’s behalf.

Ollie (our turtle) finally put his spare time to good use and taught himself to ride a bike. He was the first turtle to ever complete the Seattle to Portland in one day. And, in a delightful turn of events, Architectural Digest featured our apartment in their biggest spread of the year (Toby does all the decorating and deserves full credit for that). All of that means nothing compared to the pride we feel to have the Unicycle Injury Ward named after us at the newly remodeled Central Washington Hospital. It feels good to give back.

We hope that you all enjoy a wonderful Christmas with family and friends. We will, of course, be sharing a cozy Christmas dinner with the Obamas again. The girls just love our magic tricks!

Love,

Toby, Molly and Roper

P.S. If you want to know what we’ve REALLY been up to you can check out our annual “2011 Year in Pictures”

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December 6, 2011

NaNoWriNOOOOO!

Well, that went to hell at an alarming rate. Remember that post about NaNoWriMo? Yeah, me too. Despite my best efforts to forget it.

The 50,000 words in a month didn’t happen. I wrote 25,000 words in half a month and then my brain exploded. It took the next two weeks to clean it up. The stains in the carpet were terrible.

Seriously, who chooses NOVEMBER for this kind of torture? Aren’t the holidays stressful enough?

I started November on a new drug for Fibromyalgia. In higher doses it’s used for heroin addiction. BONUS! I can take care of that problem, too. Two birds with one stone! I’m KIDDING…but not too much because I know heroin is a very serious problem. Please do not send hate mail about me being insensitive.

One side effect of the new drug is insomnia. Which goes along nicely with my already well-established insomnia. As it turns out, a double-dose of insomnia contributes largely to 2am panic attacks. PARTY AT THE STEERES! But, it reduces my pain dramatically, so I will continue playing Bejeweled in the middle of the night, while my heart beats out of my chest. But I won’t be in as much pain.

So, no sleep. Then the Little Man gets terribly ill and has to be rushed to the ER. And then I get sick. Nobody is happy, but there’s still a whole wall of words that need to be written. Who could I turn to?

As a stay-at-home working mom, I feel a little isolated. The working moms shun me because I’m sitting at home eating bonbons, and the stay-at-home moms shun me because I’m working and therefore can’t make the 7.34 playdates per week, and I’m obviously neglecting my child.

Little do they know, I’m doing both – eating bonbons AND neglecting my child. Mwahahahaaa!

Did I mention that all of my Christmas shopping and prep work in November because I work at my parents’ Christmas Tree Farm on the weekends between Thanksgiving and Christmas? It’s great fun (seriously, check it out), but cuts into my typical weekend activities like showering, laundry and actually speaking to my spouse in person.

Oh, and in an effort to alleviate my Fibromyalgia symptoms, I had the most ridiculous dietary restriction ever. FINE, take away my dairy, wheat, rye, barley, legumes, corn, and some other stuff I can’t even remember. But NO ALCOHOL?  On top of NO HEROIN? Have you met my son?

Unacceptable.

I coped by taking on more work. I like working. I like feeling productive. It’s my therapy…and the reason I need therapy. So I’m also on the board of a non-profit. And in a writing group.  And an artist’s group. I’m not sure how I expected this to end in any way other than a massive brain explosion.

But, wait, there’s more! On top of all of that we’re STILL BUILDING A HOUSE. Yep, the same house we’ve been working towards for seven years. It’s going to be amazing when it’s done, but right now I can’t bring myself to type about it.

So, my brain exploded.

I’m waiting for it to grow back. They’re like lizards that can regrow appendages, right? Once it does grow back, I will resume the NaNoWriMo challenge.

To all of my supporters and to those who have talked me off the ledge a time or two, I thank you. And I lift a glass of alcohol in your honor. What? December is a new month, and the theme is “whatever it takes.” Cheers!

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December 4, 2011

Steroids, Trees and Garbage Trucks

Little Bear,

You are now twenty-seven months and by far our favorite son. You’re also our only son, so that makes things a little less awkward. Yay!

You started out the month with a mixture of croup and the flu. Honestly , that mixture isn’t nearly as fun as a gin and tonic, or a stinger, but it was more exciting. We knew you were sick, but you play and act normal until you crash. And boy did you crash.

I called your doctor’s office and they said “Knowing your son, you should go straight to the walk in.” So, we got to visit the walk-in clinic and they promptly rushed you to the ER with a 105 degree temperature and trouble breathing.

They gave you tylenol, motrin, epinephrine and steroids. During your breathing treatment, I cradled you in my arms and we played the “what sounds does a cow (horse, pig, etc.) make?” And even in your half delirious state, you made each animal sound and even smiled at my terrible version of an elephant trumpet.

Ok. So epinephrine is ADRENALINE. And did I mention the STEROIDS? Within half an hour you were terrorizing the whole hospital. Running laps, knocking things over, probably stealing drugs. I’m not aware of all the damage you dispensed because you were just a blur in barf-covered footie pajamas.

Trying to get you to take the steroids each morning was worse than trying to get medicine down a cat’s throat. We’re talking upturned chairs and bruises. Eventually I learned to pretend to feed your stuffed animals the drugs first.  You’re a victim of peer pressure, you will do anything your stuffed animals do. I am not above putting them on the potty and pretending they peed.

The other big event of the month was your Very First Haircut. You were starting to look like a long-haired hippy so we cut off your curls. It was a bit heartbreaking, but so fun to see you change from toddler to little boy with a few snips of the scissors. I saved a couple of your little curls and they look fake, like doll hair because they’re so white and fine.

You love singing. In fact, you debuted your version of the drinking song “Red Solo Cup” at church and you sing Jingle Bells in your sleep. You biked all the way to Target and back IN THE SNOW. You love snow and everything to do with it. Snow boots, snow hat, snow coat. It all makes your very happy.

You’ve learned to climb up on everything and shout “Watch this!” as you fly through the air – thirty-two pounds of elbows and heels hurling at the back of our heads. You love playing “pig pile” and wrestling with your giant gorilla. Your new favorite phrases are “Oh my cow!” “POW!” and “Amazing!”

You peed in the potty. Once. With no intention of ever doing it again.

We’re lucky to be friends with Justin, who works for Waste Management. You have become obsessed with garbage trucks so we meet Justin on his route on Thursdays. You talk nonstop about the garbage truck all week and then, when we see the garbage truck, you act all cool like garbage trucks are as common as dirty diapers at our house.

We did the Turkey on the Run 5k together again on Thanksgiving morning. You had a blast painting christmas ornaments for presents (and painting your belly, too).

Nanny and Papa Bear opened the Christmas Tree farm the weekend after Thanksgiving and you are the official mascot. You spend the morning riding up and down the driveway on the trailer with perfect strangers. You climb up onto the trailer as if you own the joint and then hand-pick someone to be your guardian for the trip. When you’re not on the trailer you hang out by the fire pit giving orders or in the gift shop destroying things and demanding coffee.

Little Bear, I think personality weighs a lot because you feel like you like you’re made of lead and you’re chock full of personality. We’re so excited to share the Christmas experience with you – your enthusiasm is going to light up the holidays like a wildfire.

I love you Roper Jackson. To the moon and back!

Love,

Your Mama

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November 4, 2011

26 Months

Dear Roper,

You are now twenty-six months old and you are at least twenty-six kinds of awesome. This past month has been a blast. You’re good company, Little Bear.

However, your mama is in the middle of her NaNoWriMo project and is a little short for time. As in, I’ve had to go to the bathroom for the past five hours, but a break hasn’t presented itself. I’m going to start wearing your diapers soon.

I hope your future classmates aren’t reading this.

So…this will be an hasty and abbreviated letter. A shame, because it was such a big month filled with fun activities.

You: wake up full of awesome every day, started riding your bike and adore it, sometimes fall asleep with your helmet on, still wear your pumpkin Halloween costume every day, think the answer to everything is “fire truck!”, miss The Outlaws who went back to California for the winter, point and say “oh, look at that!” over and over as clear as a bell, can jump off of things backwards, show no intention of potty training even though you love sitting on the potty, would be happy riding around the property on the tractor for hours, learned how to put the tractor in gear (yikes!), got to “help” your daddy hunt during The Great Steere Hunt, have three pairs of Carharts that you love to wear because you look like Daddy, keep yourself entertained at the property by “painting” with a dry paint brush, playing with trucks, trying to start the tractor and jumping over rocks, decorated your first pumpkin, fell in love with karaoke, and have decided that you no longer need naps (you do).

Your Daddy: is indescribably proud of you for learning to ride your bike so well and so fast, likes to see you in your Carharts and have you up at the property helping him, misses you all day at work, wants to crawl into your crib with you when we check in on you at night, is chomping at the bit to buy you a dirt bike, and hopes you don’t get too tall (I don’t know – I think he’s bummed that I sullied the gene pool with so much Cooper-ness. Mwahahahaaaa!).

Your Mama: didn’t know it was possible to love you this much, adores listening to the baby monitor as you sing “happy birthday” to your trucks, boots, books, and doggies in the morning, is thrilled with your ability to entertain yourself, is exhausted from trying to keep you alive, enjoys your company immensely, can’t stop kissing those beautiful lips, and takes joy in every little adventure we go on.

Little Bear, I hope you understand that I would much rather spend my limited free time playing with you instead of writing to you this month.  Time with you is far more valuable than time with my computer, so let’s go play!

Love,

Your Mama

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October 28, 2011

NaNoWriMo 2011

Yup. It’s that time of year again. The month when I hole up in the house, wear the same sweats for weeks, neglect my child, nurture my coffee habit and grow a beard.

What? You say that’s NO DIFFERENT FROM ANY OTHER MONTH? Here’s where it’s different: I’ll be writing 50,000 words towards the completion of my next novel.

50,000 words. 250 pages. 1,667 words per day. Pure insanity.

Last year I was able to reach my goal without too much bloodshed. Tears, yes. But no blood. I have managed to make it another year without acting on my homicidal tendencies. Who knew?

November is National Novel Writing Month.  Over 200,000 professional and amateur writers participate around the globe and less than 25% complete the task. I don’t know if you guys know this about me, but I’m a tad stubborn. I. Will. Complete. The. Task.

How do I plan to accomplish the task? Well, aside from donkey-like stubbornness, I’m also ANNOUNCING TO THE WORLD that I’m joining the insanity again.

Check that out. You = The World. Hey-oh!

My prep work includes frantically reading Larry Brooks’ book Story Engineering (Writers, buy it NOW) and his daily blog StoryFix in which he has kindly dedicated the month of October to helping all the NaNoWriMo-ers figure out how to plan their novel.

He might save me yet.

Also, I am capitalizing on my fine-tuned guilt complex by doing a little fundraising for The Office of Letters and Light, the nonprofit that runs NaNoWriMo, Young Writers programs, and all sorts of other inspiring, writerly endeavors. As you know, I’m all about GETTING THE KIDS TO WRITE. Just ask Roper, he already has to write his own thank you cards.

*Puts another $100 in the kid’s counseling fund*

If you’re feeling phenomenally altruistic and are interested in sponsoring my NaNoWriMo adventure, please visit my fundraising page. You see, if I don’t complete an event that people have donated money towards, the guilt will disintegrate me into a puddle of primordial ooze.

It’s in my best interest not to let that happen.

But I’m equally motivated by virtual high-fives or even a slight nod of acknowledgement in my direction. And wine. Wine is The Great Motivator. Now please excuse me, but I must get back to story planning. Where I am the puppeteer of everyone’s life and the world they live in. Bwahahahaaaaa!!

P.S. If you’re wondering what happened to the Young Adult manuscript I finished last year during NaNoWriMo, it FINALLY came out of hiding last month. It took ten solid months before I could bear to look at it again, but it’s now officially in the editing process. Which…um…has been put on hold for the next month.

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