Her Favorite Color is Yellow

I thought of naming Anna "Sunny." She is loving yellow above all other colors now, so maybe it was an appropriate name to consider. The way her personality is developing, "Sunny" might be a great nickname for her.

Happy St. Urho's Day to the folks out there who know about him! As a 100% Finnish person, it's my duty to spread the Finnish cheer and craziness at all times. Heinäsirkka, heinäsirkka, mene täältä hiiteen!

The kids and I are going to the library soon. Time to refresh my audiobook selections, and it'll be nice to get the kids out of the house.

Anna is looking out the window and waving bye-bye to all the cars that go past.

And she has a new word! "owie"

How cute is that? She's been constipated lately, and it hurts when she poops. She'll run to me, grab her butt and yell "OWIE!!" over and over again. And when she fell down, she started crying and saying "Owie!"

I think it's terribly appropriate that her first two words while living in this house were "Tickle" and "Owie." After all, she does have Ben for a big brother.

Ben's vocabulary is tremendous now. The other day he was eating a piece of pizza. After the first bite, he said, "That's delicious!" I was thunderstruck.

It's really not surprising. I try not to limit the words he's exposed to. When we do the "what word does this letter start?" game while playing in the bathtub with the foam letters, I get creative. I add at least two big words to the list of simple ones each time. "U" "U starts words like umbrella, under, ubiquitous, and uvula. "X" "X starts words like xray, xylophone, and xenophobia." "B" "B starts words like boy, ball, Ben, baby, big, burgeoning, backwards, and bicker." "A" "A starts words like apple, after, antelope, apricot, affection, apathy, and analytical."

Chris gets a big kick out of it. We celebrated our 4-year wedding anniversary yesterday. We had a fantastic date and went to sleep safe in the knowledge of our wonderful relationship that grows deeper and sweeter every day.

When we were leaving for our date last night and getting the kids ready for their own playdate at Katie's house, I glanced at the door and saw the following picture. I shrieked and burst out laughing. Anna decided it would be appropriate to wear our firefighter helmet with her spring jacket. It was the perfect image of our comedic genius, the Amazing Anna Girl.

From One Thing to Another

First off... I shared this story with Chris today. Heard it on Catholic Radio, got warm fuzzies. I think it's a good lesson to learn.

A momentous occasion occurred today when Chris brought Momma Val's quilt to the post office. I was so glad to pull it out of the dryer this morning and see that all the stitches held, the colors didn't bleed, and it looked cozy. Mission accomplished. Whenever I look at it, I see all the little mistakes I made. I hope they are not as noticeable to Valerie and her sweet little boy.

Here's a picture of the quilt during one of the last stages of completion:

I had started this quilt early last summer at the end of a quilting binge. I started working, my health was "iffy" and life was chaos. I just didn't have the heart for quilting anymore, so I stopped. Unfortunately, that meant that Valerie didn't get her requested quilt in a timely fashion. Oh the guilt that festered. She never bothered me about it, but I didn't forget entirely.

Fast forward to the beginning of this month. We moved our bedroom upstairs, and I decided that I should bring up our six-foot table to put in the extra wide hallway at the top of the stairs. On there, I could put my sewing machine, and I'd even have room for my cutting board. Bingo. I set it up, and the quilting bug happened again.

It didn't take me long to finish her quilt once I started. I had most of the blocks completed or nearly completed. I just had to cut out the white blocks and put it all together. Happiness, thy name is "matching seams."

And now it's done. After the quilt for Alisha, I have four more quilts planned. A nap blanket for me, a quilt each for Anna and Ben, and a quilt for my nephew Gage. Happy times ahead.

On the kid front... Ben's vocabulary is burgeoning still. He's hard to understand at times, but he's trying. He's "using his words" a lot, even if it doesn't do any good because it sounds like gibberish. He can count to ten and can recognize all of the numbers. And he has most of the alphabet down pat, but he won't say it, just points them out and names them when he sees them. Colors are memorized.

His personality is adhesive. He loves stickers. If I give him a sheet of stickers, he will either put them all over his face (including eyelids), decorate a table top (or my laptop) or add them to random pages in his book collection. A couple days ago I went into the living room to turn off the TV quickly before we left to run errands, and I was greeted with the sight of a TV screen covered in stickers. Ah, Ben.

He's acting more interested in what I'm doing, and most of the time, he wants to join in. Kneading bread dough, washing dishes, picking up laundry, washing the table, etc. "Ben try?" I hear that a lot, except when he doesn't want to do something. Then it's "Mama try?"

Anna's infected boil is slowly healing. The infection is gone, but the spot remains. I'm glad the doctor ran labs on the specific bacteria (ostensibly to rule out MRSA) so that we could get a targeted antibiotic. Unfortunately, with antibiotics comes a terrible diaper rash. She's kind of annoyed by that and the two molars that are still halfway out or just under the surface. Intermittently, she's either jolly and rambunctious or she's whiny and clingy.

I wish you all could see her adorable facial expressions. The "stinkface" with a crinkled nose and pursed lips. The "oh-hi!" where she squats slightly and grins like she's ready to jump for joy at seeing you. The "oh-really" where she raises her barely-there-blond eyebrows and smirks, letting loose a deep-throated chuckle.

That's all I can do for tonight. Hope you all are happy and well.

Ben Turns Three

Chase after me, little boy.
Let's race and see what wonders we can rouse from the ordinary.
Hold my hand and explore this world with me.

Count to ten. Say the alphabet.
What color is this?
Roar! A lion is attacking.
No wait... it's the tickle monster!

Worlds of expression dance across your face.
Anticipation for a trip to the library.
Consternation when you can't find your airplane.
Fury when Anna plays with your train.
Adoration when it's snuggle time.

Say "I"... "I"
"love"... "Yubbs"
"you!" .. "You!"

Last night, Ben asked me if we could put his jacket on the cat so she wouldn't be cold when she got stuck in the attic. "Mama? Cat too cold in attic. Cat put on Ben's jacket so not cold."

I love this boy so much. He's the best tagalong, the best companion in this march through time. My little budd started hip-hop dancing when we started singing "Hark the Herald Angel Sing" at Christmas Eve service.

Two mornings in a row, I've found him sleeping on the couch when I come downstairs in the morning. During the night, he'd snuck out of bed, grabbed a peanut butter cookie from the kitchen, ate half of it and left the remainder on the arm of the couch next to four or five favorite cars, lined up carefully in a row. Twice, this has happened. The stinker.

Ben turns three today. *Sigh*

Memory Storage

Another Christmas under the belt. A success.

Yesterday morning dawned cold and snowy. The day became even snowier, and it seemed determined to bury us in for the duration. As more than six inches of fresh snow fell in our yard, we wondered if we'd ever make it out of town that afternoon to spend Christmas at my parents' house.

By the time we left home around 4, the snow had stopped, but the roads in town were near impassable in places. We had to slide down a hill once because the tires started spinning. Once we were on the highway, the roads were okay until closer to Minocqua, where they became snow-covered and slippery again. We made it, though.

During the Christmas Eve church service, I drew pictures of Lightning McQueen and Mater for Ben on the back of the program. Snapshot: When we started singing "O Holy Night," Ben started jamming next to us, complete with air guitar and booty shake. It's hard to explain to an almost-three-year-old that not all songs are dancing songs.

Back at Nana's, we let Ben and Anna open a couple of presents from family to keep him occupied. Snapshot: My brother's family gave Anna a box of tissues as a present. I knew she'd love it, because she's often strewn tissues around the house like rose petals. Instead of going crazy and tossing them everywhere, she pulled one out at a time and then brought them directly to the garbage bag that was sitting open for discarded boxes and paper. Such a conscientious girl!

My brother Mitch and his family opened their presents to each other. (They gave each other Mike and Ike's ... I'm so jealous!!) One of the gifts unwrapped was one of those new Monopoly games that uses a credit card system instead of cash, and Becky (Mitch's wife), Alisha (their 14yo daughter), Chris and I played until we were near to passing out around 10. Ben and I went to bed while Chris stayed up with a sleeping Anna on his chest. He was talking to Mitch and Becky until 1:30 in the morning. Crazy man.

Morning came far too early, and we gorged ourselves on homemade cinnamon rolls (we call it by the Finnish name "nisu") and breakfast pizza. My sister Jolene and her family came later in the morning. She has a son Gage who just turned 2 a month ago. Gage and Ben were chasing each other around the house and playing so easily together. It was remarkable to watch. I got to know my new niece Mya (she's 4 months old now) while Jo's stepdaughter Taylor entertained herself with Alisha.

We opened lots of presents after lunch and just before our family was going to leave for Wausau. So many gifts. So much fun. The ride home was easy, and as soon as we got home (and retrieved Molly from the dog sitter), we started putting together the new toys. The big circus tent playhouse was erected. I put together Anna's dolly stroller (now we just need a dolly). And Chris started the gargantuan task of putting together the play kitchen.

After no few than 3 hours, the kitchen was finally completed, and Ben and Anna were delighted with the finished product. Snapshot: Ben's favorite task is to wash his hands in the sink. Over and over again. At least I've taught him something wholesome. Snapshot: Ben knew instinctly where the ladle and spatula were supposed to go, even though we didn't have a clue. He placed them where they belong... on a couple of hooks built into the backsplash. We were dumbfounded.

The grandchildren:

On the Run

Anna started walking when she was 13 months old. Really, she started just after her first birthday, but she didn't start walking on a regular basis until a couple days ago, when walking became her ideal mode of transportation. She quickly learned the value of walking upright and how it eclipses crawling both in speed and convenience.

My little girl. She's walking. She toddles along, straight legged and clumsy, falling often, but able to get up now without having to pull up on something.

When Shiloh was a baby, Angelina Jolie got a lot of flak for calling her a blob compared to the sparkling personalities of her other children who she didn't meet until they were older. She called her infant a blob? How terrible. Well... not really.

I loved Anna desperately even while she was still in utero. After she was born and began growing, I was delighted and enamored with every new squeak, every new gesture, every spark of the special personality developing. But honestly? It's not until these last couple months that she's less "my baby" and more "my Anna." She has distinct likes and dislikes. She calls me "Mama." She plays hide and go seek with her toys. She claps and giggles and loves petting the dog. And now she's walking everywhere, suddenly with much more access to mischief.

She's becoming fully formed now. It's so difficult for me to remember Ben when he was still a baby. He's come into his own now, and he's my buddy, my entertainer, my shadow. This is who he is, more himself now than when he was a wailing infant.

So I'm feeling like I'm getting to know a new friend now, as Anna throws her first tantrum when I won't let her play with my cell phone, as Anna runs to greet me at the door when I get home from work, as she yells, "Mama!", when she wants my help.

My brain is fuzzy in the mornings, my eyes bleary, after yet another night of frequent wakings. Her sleep apnea keeps us all up at night (or at least the two of us) as she's stirring awake every hour or two in a hacking cough. I barely wake up now when I'm summoned into the dining room to feed and cuddle her again. Every night, I consider sleep training again, night weaning, so I can share the burden and lighten my load. But nearly every time, my heart goes into protective mother mode, and I go hug her as she yells and cries for me. So I resolve that when she has a clean bill of health, when the doctor tells me that she's fine and there's no reason for her to not sleep through the night, that is when I will start sleep training again.

In other news, Molly survived her spay surgery on Thursday. She slept most of Friday and yesterday. She's very cuddly and sensitive, and I hope she's not in much pain. That first day and night that she was home, she had diarrhea, and there was much ... um ... "leakage" where she was lying down and sitting. It was horrendously stinky, but luckily that resolved quickly.

An Imagination Tempered With Toddler-ness

This morning, Ben had a temper tantrum for no less than 30 minutes in our bedroom while Anna and I peacefully ate breakfast in the kitchen. From what I can make out from his shrieks and rants, he was angry that I had changed his diaper on the right side of the bed. Apparently, he wished that it had occurred on the left side, but he hadn't known that until after the change was done. Eventually, he pulled off his pants and his diaper and wouldn't budge from the room until I started the process over again on the left side of the bed.

That crisis conquered, we proceeded on with our day.

While those temper flare-ups (for the stupidest, most asinine reasons ever) happen at least once a day, I'm still bemused by his burst of imagination activity.

Picture this: We're at the breakfast table. He has a PB&J on bread, cut into the shape of a dinosaur (his "roar bread"). I have PB&J on an English Muffin, cut in half. He asks from half of my muffin, announces that it's a lion, and starts the Great War of Dinosaur and Lion at our dining room table. The war raged on in his head as the two parties tackled and fought, shouting toddler-ese obscenities at each other.

Another time, he's narrating the actions of Scoop (of Bob the Builder fame) as he terrorizes a small city of matchbox cars. "Uh-oh! Crash!" as Scoop finally is plunged off of the blanket chest into the abyss below. The trains regularly make runs around the living room of Sodor as they bicker back and forth about Bulgy's errant behavior and Toby's slowness.

When my BFF Mary came over last weekend to take Anna's 1-year pictures, Ben wanted to be the star. Contrary to his behavior from his own photo shoot months ago when he refused to acknowledge the camera, he jumped in front of the lens and started hamming it up with various Vogue-ish poses and grins. My boy. Delightful. I love him dearly.

To Anna, on her first birthday

Did you know that my precious baby girl is one year old today? Hard to believe how quickly this year has gone by. I still remember distinctly what her birthday was like and the crazy week leading up to it. Sigh. She's a year old now.

I wish I had good pictures to throw up here, but I don't. She's having another photo-shoot this weekend, so you'll have to wait for those.

But let me paint a word picture for you.

She's gnawing on the edge of the entertainment center right now. I'm not surprised. Everything gets tasted at least three times. Her first tooth is *this close* to the surface, and the front of her outfits have been soaked for the last two days as the drool flood settles in to saturate our lives and our furniture.

She pulls herself up to standing and pushes whatever she can to get herself across the room on her feet. Such great strides, but she's not feeling confident enough to let go and stand on her own, let alone take more than one or two tentative steps. Soon. The tops of her feet are always dirty as a testament to my terrible house cleaning. She crawls everywhere, and that's where her feet come in contact with the floor.

When she sees Ben, her eyes always light up. It's automatic, and it's such a relief, considering how poorly he treats her sometimes. Watching them play together is one of my greatest joys. She loves to play with his choo-choos, unfortunately only while he's playing with them or right before he wants to play with them. We had to tear down the choo-choo tracks because she thought they looked better in a mad jumble. She drinks his sippy cups of juice, and God help him if he leaves a half of a PB and J sandwich on his table.

Her smile is easy and sweet, and when she finally lets loose a giggle, it's infectious. Her blue eyes sparkle and dance with private amusement long before she actually chuckles. My favorite moment in the last month with her was a private little minute we had while nursing. I was watching her suckle away, and I started tickling her under the arms, behind her knees. She tried so hard to keep concentrating on her task at hand, but she couldn't help it. She began to grin widely, breaking the latch for a moment, then the giggling started. I could feel it rumbling through her body before it escaped her throat. Before long, we were both laughing hysterically.

She's my delight. On Criminal Minds the other day, the hot guy called Garcia his "God-given solace." That's my Anna. She heals the fractures and soothes the friction burns from an abrasive day. I love watching her explore and grow every day, and I'm so glad she's in my life.

Random Thoughts on a Dog Walk

Tomorrow morning we bring Molly Dog to the vet to get spayed. A couple weeks too late. Not that she's pregnant... but she's been in heat for the last two weeks. Let me tell you. That's a nasty, gross situation.

With the weather being rainy and my ears being infected, we haven't gone for many dog walks in the last few days. I needed a break from the mayhem tonight, so I took her for a walk by myself.

The quiet was nice. The fallen leaves still crunched and swirled a bit when I walked through them. Shadows from the trees and shrubs cast long fingers across our path. Cars drove past, and I heard Molly's ID tag tinkling against the collar and the leash.

Did you know that I can see the Dudley Tower from my backyard? It's only 11 stories, I think, but it's tall and it's beautifully lit, and I can see it from the backyard between the odd, mystery structures of the factories along the river. I didn't go in the backyard tonight, but I thought of the Tower being there. Of living within sight of downtown. Of living here in the town where I was born.

It just feels good to me. I'm getting more active in community activities through Citizen Wausau. I'm extending myself and participating. I'm digging down deep in the dirt and sowing my seeds and growing some roots. Because this is what the non-nomads do.

There's a house in the middle of the next block that is always beautifully decorated on the outside. They have a collection of miniature pumpkins out on the porch right now. Very cute. What struck me tonight as I shamelessly gazed through the open, lit window, was that their dining room is painted what appears to be the exact same color as our dining room is painted. And that made me smile.

Viva la Sobriety!

After the show was over last night, Dino said he couldn't wait to read what I write about my first rock concert. I hope he's not disappointed, and I hope he treats this with kindness.

I went to my first rock concert last night at The Fillmor in Downtown Wausau. The venue is beautiful and large and sparkling. Everyone I met was warm and enthusiastic, and I made new friends and had some fantastic conversations between sets. I even *gulp* drank some alcoholic beverages. My experiences are filtered through that boozy haze, and my head feels like it's filled with angry cotton balls this morning, yet I still have something I need to say.

Years ago, I made the conscious decision to retreat from the social butterfly life of my college years. The drama turned scary, and I needed to figure out a new path for adulthood. I grew introspective and began to live very much in my own body. I spent months invariably alone, listening to countless audio books, working on needle crafts, finding some quiet in my head. The peace I found was pervasive, and it's been very difficult to leave those years behind and move on to the next phase of my life.

I think I expected college-years-Cheryl to stretch out of her self-imposed cocoon and flutter about and party hard last night. It didn't happen that way. My ear drums quickly grew numb, so the music's lyrics blended into the background of loud excellent sound. I felt mute, my voice not reaching more than three inches in front of my face, and I became more quiet inside than ever before.

The music was great. Even I could tell that. Cool Hand and then SUNSPOT rocked that stage until it closed the place down, slamming the crowd with rough-edged rock anthems and what can only be described as superb musicianship. I was fascinated by the display of skill: they made it look so easy and fun! (I had to play piano for more than seven years before performing became easy and fun... I can only imagine what they've done to prepare). The "show" was good, and it was interesting to see the dynamic between musicians and between musicians and the fans.

It felt like pure escapism at one minute, but the next, simply elemental, a connection made between strangers with only a piercing glance and shared sound thumping through our bones. Discarded glasses and bottles littered the stage as that of candles in a cult ritual, the blue, red and yellow lights reflecting off the glass, glimmering like soft moonlight on water, standing sentinel.

I stayed until the end, watching and writing, talking and listening – observing, because that's what I do now, this Cheryl who is not 23 anymore. Me, the mom of two small children, the writerly person who is seeped in sarcasm and spontaneous joy. I tried to find within me the desire to get up and dance like the rest, but it just wasn't there anymore. The alcohol dulled my senses, and I think that was disturbing enough to keep me in my seat, maintaining tentative control over a foreign situation.

The effects of alcohol is an interesting study. To me, it felt like a slow snake venom through my veins. After the first drink, my cheeks went numb and showing expression took extra effort. My brain felt like it was sloshing about in my skull, and I seemed transparent to the crowd of rockers. They were a display of high-octane energy and enthusiasm, shared goodwill and willingness to scream along with the music. Most of the lyrics were seeped in the booze and drug-infused life of the rock and roll star and "living straight sucks" mentality, and near the end of the night, I craved sobriety more than I've craved anything before. I yearned for it, my drunken head ached for it.

I'll go again for the people, for dialogues with people who aren't in my everyday, diaper-changing, crayon-slinging life, people like Billie and Lacy who accepted so quickly for who I am. Friends made in a minute, all these people who came together for a night of communal fun and debauchery. That's what I'll go back for, time and time again, I'm sure.

I'll be going again to see Freedown, Aaron Williams and the Hoodoo, and the amazing Scott Holt on October 10. This time, I'll be bringing the husband, and I won't be drinking. Honestly? I act more like the uninhibited rock and roll lover more when I'm sober, when I'm feeling a serendipitous burst of joy and energy at a funny quirk one of my kids exhibits, more like dancing when I'm in the kitchen in my socks with my hands soaking in soapy dishwater. I'm more likely to start headbanging when a particularly awesome song comes on the radio, and I turn my living room into a mosh pit with the kids.

Ben Screams Ice Cream

What an exciting night for my family.

After a nice bike ride to the park, we drove to Dairy Queen to buy some blizzards for the Children's Miracle Network. Ben eschewed the hot dog we bought him (probably because I put relish on it), so he was stuck watching me spoon a peanut butter cup blizzard into Anna's hungry mouth.

We stopped at Walgreens on the way home so Chris could buy a pregnancy test (it was negative - long story), and I sat in the back seat with the kids. Ben asked for the spoon I was holding.

"Mama. Poon. Ben."

So I gave him the spoon with a little ice cream on it.

"Mama. I-keem. Ben. Peeeez."

I handed him the cup.

He played with it a little, sticking the spoon in and out of the semi-frozen delight. Eventually, he had the nerve to daub a spot of ice cream on his lower lip. He licked it off tentatively. Next, a miniscule dot on his outstretched tongue.

He looked at me and said, "Um. Mama. Um!"

And so the demolishing of my blizzard began. I was happy to hand it over to him.

Our son has been an anomaly in the world of children. Since he started solid food, we've offered him ice cream when we've indulged. Though we snuck in a few bites when he was very young, when he became old enough to recognize it, he refused. Absolutely refused. He'd start crying at the mention of it.

It's been two years of cajoling him. We've offered every time as a joke, rolling our eyes at his emphatic, "NO!" And now he loves it. Now our boy is normal.

Side story. Chris was lactose intolerant until he was five. When his parents got the go-ahead to give him dairy, they naturally offered him a taste of ice cream. He was an *extremely* picky eater, and he refused. Eventually, his parents pinned him to the ground and forced the ice cream into his mouth. He ate it easily after the first taste.

We tried that with Ben, but he became so freaked out, we relented. He has had a couple of tastes that way, and that might be why he's held out so long – he's associated it with the claustrophobia and the forcing.

We are so relieved that the boycott is over. Now we get to introduce him to the wonderful world of icy treats. Yay!

Boyhood Bliss By Blizzard

A Plate of BenAnna Cake

Oh Anna Kathryn of my heart. I know I write odes to you at each passing month milestone, but I'm so full of moments lately that I want to capture in snapshots of the heart, I just had to put some down on the page.

I looked at you last week and was startled by how long you've gotten. At your six-month checkup, I figured it was a fluke, a temporary state. A tall Mathis baby? Both your dad and I are 5'4". Ben has been small since his birth. He still seems at least six inches shorter than the other kids his age. But you are stretching out, all arms and legs. A gymnast and a ballerina, maybe a track star.

You are easing out of babyhood, and through the misty tears and smiles, I see shades of a little girl peeking through the veil. The special smiles for your brother, the look of incredulity when we don't give you what you want. The pure joy and exhilaration when you see us after an absence. The concentration across your whole body as you examine the mardi gras beads every day, and the graham crackers, and the sippy cup. Like you are going to work every day, studying your world, turning it around and over, learning what it's all about. I'm honored by the hugs and kisses you bestow on me, my magical, flailing girl of light.

And, dear Ben, my little gentleman. I've often contemplated your transformation during your two-year-old days. When before you would trundle around the world, mute and smiling, grunting and pointing to get your point across, now you startle us by clasping your hands together and saying "Peeeez! Mama. Peeez! Getti!", a plaintive look on your face as you let us know exactly what you want for dinner. With language, you've come alive. Now you narrate what you are doing with your choo-choos, you call out points of interest that you can see from the backseat of the car, and you tell us that you are drinking yellow juice out of Ben's sippy cup. You let us know when Anna is crying, when your diaper is uncomfortable, when a toe hurts.

Today at the park while I was doing my playground workout, you joined me, showing me the stretches you learned at the baby gymnastics program at the YMCA, reaching to the sky, hiding the turtle, actually talking me through the movements. It's hard to describe how this change makes me feel. I've always been your mommy, and I've always loved every part of you. We are still your parents, and you are still our tagalong, but now that we see and hear you notice everything around you, it feels like you are a real person, less a baby to cart around and talk excitedly to. Now you do the talking.

My children. My heart. My bits of wonder and effervescent joy. My silver lining.

Reunions and Memories Made

Last weekend we had the pleasure of traveling to a relatively remote area of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Twin Lakes. For the American history of my Finnish relatives and ancestors (okay, maybe just the last two generations), we've gathered on the shores of the Twin Lakes campground to eat and play.

We did it again on Saturday. My dad's side of the family, but just his sisters and their families and our family. Pasties in the enclosure. Too many delicious desserts.

Ben played by the water with his cousin Brice, but often just by himself because when you get a 2-year-old boy together with a bunch of rocks and some water, he's self-sufficient.

Chris threw a ball back and forth with some people, then just with himself. Later, he attempted to teach me how to throw a football properly. It didn't work, but the next day, I realized it was quite the biceps workout.

Anna sat in her stroller, then in the grass and dirt, eating said dirt with gusto.

My boys played in the playground area, and Chris showed Ben what the digger is all about. I relaxed on the swing with Anna Dumpling. My nephews threw footballs at each other, and Ben was the monkey in the middle.

Ben throwing the rocks. He did this for an hour.

I seem to have a lot of pictures of Anna in the stroller. Here's another one.

Daddy the Digger dumps sand on Ben's feet.

The monkey in the middle of two bigger monkeys.

I loved collecting skipping stones for my nephew Chaz. Simple pleasures.

Quiet Now Please

It's a quiet night here at the Mathis house. Chris is at class. Anna is eating something she found in the corner. Ben is tearing around the house with his huge Tonka truck, pausing to come get a kiss for his owwies after he crashes too hard into something. Yes. Quiet.

This is my last week of employment. Bittersweet, but not as bitter as it was leaving the first time. I know what I'm getting into (and out of), and I have a full life without work. I have projects on the back burner (Val's quilt, painting the living room) that I haven't had a moment to work on much this summer. And time away from the kids is rarely happy.

My mother is okay. Thanks for asking. She meets with a couple more doctors in Madison on Wednesday, and we're all expecting a miracle. The surgeon up here was unable to reattach the muscle to her eye, but we have a positive outlook on it. Once this is fixed, we'll have so much to celebrate, because the blessing will be even sweeter because it will be a miracle in our lives.

Anna continues to struggle with daycare. I wish it were like it usually is, where babies scream and cry when the parent leaves, but minutes later is fine. She really did cry the whole afternoon... wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep. Totally breaks my heart. She'll be there all Wednesday. Positive spin #2. Without my mother having an injury, we wouldn't have this opportunity to get Anna over her stranger anxiety. After Wednesday morning, I have no doubt that she will be cured, and will love playing with other kids even when Mama isn't there. The last time, she was marginally better than before. Though she wouldn't eat, she did sit in the exersaucer and watch the other kids.

This coming weekend, we'll be traveling to the UP of Michigan to visit with my dad's side of the family at a reunion at Twin Lakes Campground, the site of so many of my childhood memories. The rocky beach, the playground, the trees, the boat rides. I'm not looking forward to the hours in the car, but the rest will make it worth it.

Thursday morning, Chris and I are participating in a one-mile fun run at work. I will do it mainly for the possibility of prizes, but the exercise will be nice, and just to prove to myself (and others) that I can do stuff like this now.

I told Ben the other day that life wouldn't be such a struggle if he went potty on the toilet instead of in a diaper. Last night, he asked, in his way, to sit on the potty. So we sat there, and I blew bubbles in his face. This morning, I bought a smaller foam potty insert for him (Bob the Builder), and he's sat on it frequently today. Lord, give me patience to blow so many bubbles. He hasn't produced anything yet, but I'm glad he's interested in it finally. Maybe once I'm done working, we'll do a potty boot camp. I have no idea.

Anna's black eye has followed the usual course of black eyes. What had first presented as a bruise above her eye on her temple has traveled down her brow and now rests on her eyelid with some shadowing underneath her eye as well. I'm so impatient for it to go away. It's rather embarrassing, and it detracts from her sparkle and charm, though she's still the cutest baby I've ever seen.

Did I tell you the tree in the backyard is finally gone? During ChalkFest, Chris and a bunch of guys from work were here with a couple of chainsaws. They didn't hurt anybody, and the tree came down. Unfortunately, now we have a backyard full of brush and logs since they didn't have time to haul anything away to the local yard waste site. I'm hoping that will get taken care of this week. I saved some of the big chunks of trunk for Ben to use as an obstacle course and generally as things to climb on. I've seen shows on TV where they've put huge boulders in the backyard for that purpose, and it seemed like the natural thing to do.

Our little family went for a bike ride together last week. Chris mapped out a 5.5-mile route on the north side of town, and off we went. It was lovely and fine until we found some hills, some gradual (those are killer), some steep and kind of scary. At least now we know that we should drive the new routes first just in case. We had to walk up a couple of the hills, and we were drenched in sweat when we got home, but we were pleased with our accomplishment. We are a family of vim, vigor and vitality, and we are not couch potatoes. We do stuff like ride bikes in the evenings and walk to parks.

How is your week starting out?

Chalk Dust

After the four-hour grueling ChalkFest time on my hands and knees last Saturday, I'm feeling more confident with the art medium. Not necessarily sidewalk chalk, but art pastels. I have almost an entire box left of artist's pastels, and I think I might create some pieces to hang in our stairwell. Big, bold, playful. Now I just have to pick a subject matter. I have four boards to decorate.

So ChalkFest. That was fun. Sponsored by Wausau Area Events, coordinated by the Center for the Visual Arts, it's a huge, family-friendly event that takes place on our "400 Block." This is a city-block size piece of property, a green oasis among the buildings of our downtown, with sidewalks surrounding the green space and cutting diagonal slashes to make an "X." For ChalkFest, the sidewalks are measured off and marked, and each artist is given a piece of sidewalk to decorate.


Oh my goodness, the beautiful art created that day (and the next day). It was fabulous to be a part of it. The biggest compliment was for a passer-by to click a picture of what I was doing, and it happened a pleasingly amount of times while I was there.


During the Citizen Wausau board meeting a few weeks ago when we were discussing the block we had purchased at the upcoming ChalkFest, the silence after asking if anyone knew any artists was uncomfortable and telling. "If you don't mind a childlike effort, I'll do it."

I can't freehand. I can't draw from memory. But as I've explained before... I can copy like a champ.

Once Chris and I laid out a grid and the rays element and started some circles with a compass, the rest was relatively easy. The impact of the graphic I copied (a square version of our site's masthead without the text) was in its geometry, the bold contrasting circles that became clouds and trees depending on the color and placement, the rays that became sky and grass, the blocky buildings that easily call into mind the recognizable buildings of our downtown skyline. Without needing much detail work, I was able to create a work of art that was striking and impressive looking. But it only took me four hours. Many artists better than I, with more detailed plans, took all day and the next morning.


Will I do it again? Hell yeah. I think I'll practice over the winter with the medium, and I'll choose a piece of art to imitate with more detail, and I'll knock everyone's socks off.


It was so much fun and so rewarding to do this bit of PR for Citizen Wausau, but it was even more enjoyable to meet some of the people that I have just known virtually through the site. We are a crazy cool group of people, and I'm proud to be a part of it.

Nana Update. The surgeon was able to sew up her face and the laceration on her conjunctiva, but he wasn't able to reattach the muscle to her eyeball. He's never seen a cut so deep. He called a colleague who he considers to be one of the best eye surgeons in the country, and that doctor has seen one so deep. The odds that it can be reattached are slim, but we are putting our hope in the next surgery. I found the fated sunglasses in the bike trailer last night, tossed there after the accident. They were bent, but intact. It is anyone's guess how that thick plastic was able to do so much damage. Thank you for your healing thoughts and prayers.

Why Helmets Are Necessary

A quick post so I don't have to twit/plurk the story.

Last night after my mom, Ben, Anna and I got back from Walmart, we all piled on our bikes to drive to the ice cream parlor a mile away. Just as we were pulling out of the parking lot to head back, my mother lost her balance and fell down on her face.

She was wearing sunglasses and no helmet. The sunglasses shattered on impact, scoring her face and eye area with slashes. She stayed face down, holding her face, the blood dripping through her hands. 911 was called. Paramedics arrived, and I rode in the ambulance on the way to the ER.

Besides some deep lacerations on her nose and her cheek that needed stitches, the major damage was to her right eye. The conjunctiva (the thin, transparent tissue that covers the eye) was slashed from side to side, and it quickly became apparent that she had severed one of the muscles that connect to her eyeball.

She came home with me at 1 in the morning after 4 hours of grueling eye exams and cat scans. She goes back to the hospital campus after noon today for eye surgery to reattach what needs to be reattached.

She's not in a lot of pain, but she feels humiliated and embarrassed by her klutziness. We love her dearly. Accidents can't be planned, and they can happen to anyone.

Anna Dumpling, Age Nine Months

Oh Anna Kathryn of my heart. You are nine months old today.

Your black eye shines back at me, not managing to shadow the intense sparkle of your blue eyes. Your brother Ben figured out that he could pick you up yesterday, and shortly after, you learned you could take a nosedive to the floor and land on your face.

And you smile, "a grin with limbs," still, finding joy in small things like a long lost pea or a plastic bag, finding ecstasy in fireworks and brother hugs. Your voice is deep and husky, and your chuckle and laugh doesn't quite escape your chest, though it rumbles and shakes your body with mirth.

Daddy loves how your personality is shining through. Ever the Mama's girl, you are stubborn and determined to get what you want, and now that you can crawl, you don't let anything get in your way. Put you in a room full of people, and you'll be smiling and gurgling at everyone, but only if you are being held by one of three people — Mama, Daddy or Nana. No one else will do.

Developmentally, we are starting to notice waves when you see people. You've mastered the commando crawl, and on certain surfaces, you do a modified monkey walk, one knee and one foot. No teeth yet, but that doesn't stop me from serving you peas, corn niblets, carrots, raisins, green beans, graham crackers, etc. You rake it all into your mouth eagerly, and you pulverize them with your gums.

You still don't sleep through the night, but for the most part, you are willing to get shushed back to sleep only every two hours, requiring only one night feeding now. You sleep in the big white crib in the dining room now, so when you nap during the day, I try to keep Ben in our bedroom with a movie, because if he sees you in the crib, he wants to join you and entertain you.

You two are so incredibly cool together. He's generally willing to let you maul him with your pinching fingers and your slobbery mouth. He in turn loves to coo at you and find ticklish patches of bare skin. He brings you his toys and balloons, though he sometimes pulls them away quickly to assert his dominance. Never mind, you love him completely, enthralled by his activities and exploits.

I'm coming to the end of my little sojourn into part-time employment this summer, and I'll always remember how much fun we had on Friday mornings when your Daddy would drop you off at work for a few minutes, and I'd steal you away to the lactation room. I'd nurse you in privacy, feeling like I was the luckiest woman in the building, luxuriating in your soft skin and warm body pressed against mine, while everyone else in the world was relegated to that cold, sterile "adult" world with spreadsheets and campaigns. Afterward, we'd walk back to my cubicle to call your Daddy, and you'd right away grab for any stray papers I had left within reach.

If I would let you be in a room alone with your favorite toys, I'd come back to see you wrapped up in Mardi Gras beads, tissues pulled one by one from the box and strewn across the floor, soggy bits of paper that you had chewed and spat out, balloons wet with your saliva, books with your favorite pages ripped out, and laptop cords snaking a path through the whole glorious mess.

The Maze In My Head

The day after Independence Day, we followed my sister's family down the road to Sawdust Days in Oshkosh, WI. Instead of throwing ourselves into the crowds around the fairgrounds, our destination was "Little Oshkosh," the amazingly intricate wooden city in a corner of Menominee Park. Wow.

We could spend all day there, and hopefully this summer, we'll actually do that.

There's something so peaceful about being in a place that is the object of so many people's talents and imaginations. It felt like a locus of creative energy, and I felt revitalized. The toddler fairy tale land with carvings and paintings to remind you of Mother Goose's family of stories was especially enchanting. This place is a dream for me.


I didn't even get a chance to explore much of the older kids' section, a maze of narrow and steep bridges and steps, tunnels and entryways, corridors so low you have to crawl and rooms in the far reaches of this children's castle that are perfect for hide-and-go-seek and princes who are devising their fortress' defenses.


I'm living so much in my head this summer. It's not necessarily a bad thing; it just is. I feel like I'm in the center of a whirlwind hurricane, but here inside the Eye, I am calm and still, separate from the chaos, but surrounded by it.


Sitting there in a tucked-away corner of Little Oshkosh nursing Anna, I looked out across this fanciful landscape of dreams and triumphs, and I felt deeply comfortable in my heart. I'm having so many new experiences now, I've opened myself up to so much more, so many more people, I'm left breathless at the transition. For the most part, I am just leaping with my eyes wide open, not looking back, not looking down, just looking ahead towards the unknown, having faith in my intuition.

Right now, I'm looking ahead to a very special project I'm calling the Scott Street Stories in my head. With my new BFF Dino, we're going to craft a book together. I was so deeply honored when he asked me if I would write it with him, and it felt like a puzzle piece had gently clicked into place. I've always felt there was a book inside me, but I kept slamming up against the brick wall of my empty imagination. I don't have characters and stories percolating in my head. I never have. Whenever I've tried to draft a story, I end up writing myself. I can write, but I had nothing to write about.

Enter Dino, a 37-year-old hurricane with a breadth of experiences behind him, notably a career on the sidelines of a live music industry, a career full of interesting stories. He's giving them to me, a precious gift, an immaculate rough diamond for me to carefully hone into a jewel. That's right, folks. I'll be writing a book about live music and bars. Tell me. When you think "Cheryl," don't you think about live music and bars?

He knows about my lack of history with the subject, and his encompassing faith in me is humbling. I think I'll have a fun time hearing his stories for the first time, entering into this world that is so foreign to me, finding a voice, and writing.

Ruffling

The wind took ownership of my hair, and I nuzzled Anna's bald little head, savoring her warmth, relishing her soft skin, her barely-there strawberry blonde hair.

My own hair flipped and flew, twisted and tangled as we soared over Lake Winnebago.

Crazy hair, swept and swirled. Crazy soul, ruffled by the wind, shaken by the speed.

I felt the same freedom I felt when I was younger and enjoying boat rides, but now with a new weight as my worried heart lurched with each bump that, in my wild imagination, could send Ben flying overboard. Another new weight was perched on my lap. My daughter snuggled awkwardly against me in her life jacket, her eyes squeezed tight against the wind.

Memories. Their first boat ride. Gage's and Ben's blonde heads in a row as they sat side by side, enjoying the ride together. A pair of rapscallion toddlers, braving the wild world together. Taylor, the experienced older sister and cousin, hovering with the care and attention that makes me smile every time I remember.

Great Big Gigantic Family Extravaganza!

Sometimes I feel a bit isolated from my siblings. They all live within 45 minutes of each other on the eastern side of the state. If I ever move away from Wausau, I will want to move over there to throw myself into that mucky, wonderful mess of people.

Tonight after Chris gets done with his last economics class ever, we're driving a couple hours to Oshkosh. It'll be the middle of the night, but she's leaving the door open for us. A saint. A very pregnant, beautiful saint. Tomorrow morning, we're getting up at the butt crack of dawn to get ready to drive to a 5K race that benefits wounded soldiers.

Everyone and their grandma will be there. That is, everyone in my family will be there. I'm not sure who all is racing, but we managed to guilt everyone into showing up for the occasion (Hi Everybody!). My parents will even be there, though my father would rather be in the UP.

Afterwards, we're having a great, big, gigantic, blowout of a family picnic back at my sister's house in Oshkosh. After that? I have no idea. We might even stay another night, we'll be having so much freakin' fun!

I'm excited to see everyone and show off my kids. I'm excited to walk (not run) a 5K "race." I'm excited to show off my new rykä Tri Trainers for the festivities. I'm excited to see my nieces and nephews and lovingly rub my sister's tummy.

What are your plans for the holidays?

I Scream

Curious note: Ben absolutely refuses to eat ice cream. Like many toddlers, he shakes his head no and turns his face away when we offer him something (unless he recognizes it as cheese). We have even, get this, tried to sneak it in his mouth when he's not looking. We figure once he gets a taste, he won't say no anymore. Nope. He wants nothing to do with it.

Hi. My name is Cheryl. I’m addicted to ice cream.

I don’t think I realized it until last Saturday when I talked myself out of cutting back. Earlier in the day, my husband and I had agreed that we will no longer have ice cream every evening. Instead, we will save the frosty treat for Wednesday afternoons when we walk to the ice cream parlor near work. We shook on it.

Yeah. That didn’t last long. Knowing that I wouldn’t have ice cream that day made me crave it all the more. I yearned. I ached. I needed. Within hours, I had devised a scheme to convince my husband that we should amend our previous resolution.

“It’s too hard to just quit cold turkey. We should start tapering off, say every other day for a couple weeks, then every third day, etc. We could have ice cream tonight, and then again on Monday, and then on our date on Wednesday.”

After a great deal of eye rolling, he acquiesced.

Our weight has stabilized at a forty-pound loss since January. We exercise occasionally, and overall, we eat better. I can only guess that the weight would keep dropping off if we would just stop eating the ice cream.

Chris loves chocolate, I favor simple vanilla. If it’s an option, we both love mint chocolate chip. What’s your favorite flavor? Where do you get your icy indulgences? If it’s not ice cream, what is your guilty pleasure?