Ellastyle: Aug. 2007

If you're female, single and over 50 - watch out for this guy.

My dad was just here for a week and it went pretty well. I took care of him and he lapped it up. (Glenn enjoys being mothered.) Other than having meals and dishes done for him, he seemed to have a nice time, but it’s hard to tell. He doesn’t really like children and we have a couple.  He seemed to manage, although at times I felt as if this trip to visit his daughter was somewhat of an interruption in his fairly full life.

People often ask me, in a very concerned way, “How is he doing?” – in reference to the fact that he is a widower. I always say, “Great!” because he is. He seems more energetic than ever. He plays golf often and walks 2 miles about four days a week. He is 78, but seems younger. Not youthful – he definitely has fuddy-duddy tendencies and would NEVER be referred to as “hip”, “trendy” or “cool” - but he is aware of world happenings. For example, he hears about Lindsay Lohan occasionally while watching Fox News (his favorite news source) and now actually knows who she is after watching “Parent Trap” in the back of my brother’s minivan on the way to a family reunion two weeks ago. And when we took him to Sundance to see the home of Robert Redford’s acting studio/institute, he was able to reference it as “…near the place that Lindsay Lohan is in rehab now.”

He’s also been dating on a frequent basis. Watching my father navigate the dating scene at 78 is about as fun as watching someone in traffic pick their nose when you’re all stopped at a red light. I cringe, look away, feel a little nauseous, but eventually have to turn back and take another glance.

Ok, it’s not that bad, but it is pretty disgusting. He has a few “singles” groups that he gets together with while he’s in Minnesota for the summers. One of them is a spin off of the grief group that he went to for about six months after my mom died. He didn’t use the group for therapy – no, it was totally about the chicks. His friend found his second wife through the same group, so my dad thought he’d have the same luck. Now the grief group has formed a spin-off group. He claims that the “‘…grief group is just too ‘grief-y.’” Wow, it’s hard to believe that people would actually attend the group strictly for the purpose of finding solace or comfort. No, Glenn attended to find a cook or housekeeper.

While he was visiting I daily created activities or outings for the four of us. The kids and I took him to IKEA one afternoon and bought some storage units for their bedroom. He took the whole purchase very seriously and helped me determine colors and size almost as well as Mom used to. When we got home, he and Harrison put the units together and for a second I think he actually thought Harry was okay – instead of just the whiny, annoying, misbehaving gnat that he usually thinks of him. Well, maybe my dad doesn’t dislike Harrison that much, but he certainly doesn’t go out of his way to bond with his grandchildren. He “tolerates” and “cohabitates”, more than “enjoys” or “engages with” them. This hurts me at times, but I have grown too old to get seriously irritated with him. He has always been this way, and the fact that he is now starting to become much more self-aware (dating does that to you), I am encouraged. Encouraged that he can look beyond himself and see that there may be other ways to live life.

Don’t get me wrong. The man is incredibly intelligent. He knows a little about everything, and a lot about most things. That said, he chooses to disagree with most of it. He has a very FoxNewsPresident BushTheOldDaysWereGreat perspective on life. It makes it hard to have long debates with him. Everything inevitably gets back to Iraq and those “damn” Muslims. As an educator, you can probably guess that we have opposing views on almost everything.
Sending him off yesterday I felt okay. I don’t think I’ll worry about him as much as I have the last 19 months. He is definitely figuring out how to be alone. He would love to have some permanent company, but if he doesn’t find anyone I know he’ll be fine. He is comfortable with himself. Still willing to learn and change, but content with himself and the life he has created on his own. He actually feels blessed that he has had such a nice life. He often says that he didn’t deserve it. I think he did.

If I write this stuff down, I'm more likely to do it.

I was just reading a post about a person who is in a relationship that is going nowhere. He’s with someone who is already involved and was cautious to write about it because it’s a difficult subject – especially because he doesn’t feel guilty about it. So instead of writing about it in his blog, he posted photos for awhile.

I do that. All the time.

No, I’m not having an affair, but I definitely have found it harder and harder to write about the “important” things in life. I tend to think that certain subjects would make a great post, but if the computer is not at home (we all use Chris’ work computer which is only around at night) then I tend to blow off the thought. Or I'll overanalyze and wonder if I'll be judged on what I'm thinking of writing about. Photos get posted instead so that the one or two of you left reading this blog won’t get too bored.

I don’t particularly like to write, but I do like recording things that go on in our life so I’m making a goal. One of many.

Goal #1: Write more often. I’ll try not to overanalyze everything to the point that I don’t write at all. This blog is supposed to me for me – so why do I care?

The rest of my goals have nothing to do with my blog.

Goal #2: Exercise more than 4 days a week, but incorporate strength training.

Goal #3: Eat less. I’m 43 years old. You’d think I could figure this one out by now. When you eat whatever you want – you get fat.

Goal #4: Stay organized. I’m trying daily to get more organized. It’s pretty simple during the summer when I’m home, but next Monday I go back to work full time. I don’t want life to take over.

Goal #5: Have more sex. No, I'm not going to elaborate on this one.

That’s it in a nutshell. I feel like life is going pretty well right now. I want to be proactive and I have found that if I feel happy about myself (ie. Positive body image) then those around me will be happier. It’s simple in theory, now I just need to follow through!

Updated with definition: An afternoon at Sundance

Playing "Pooh Sticks" - a game invented by Christopher Robin to play with his animal buddies. You stand on a bridge with a stick. You drop the stick in the creek/river current and run to the other side of the bridge to see it come out from under the bridge. It's totally simple, but always elicits TONS of giggles and laughs. It becomes really interesting when the stick doesn't come out or gets stuck. Then you have to grab a stick and help (see above.)

Our summer has been fun, but full and busy. We have travelled to Minnesota, had LOTS of guests (and now my dad is coming today), and have been under constant construction since April. The backyard has been unusuable this summer, the toy room has been overtaken by a teenager with a large amplifier and big shoes (that are left all over) and even bedtime is often later due to summer outdoor activities.

None of this is good for a boy who thrives on routine and structure.

Harry has been struggling, behavior-wise, for the last three weeks or so. He is emotional, annoyingly mischievious and has become a terrible dinner companion (his manners are atrocious...again). After disciplining him last night about something, I suddenly hit the wall. The camel's back broke. Call it what you will - I was done. I calmly told him to go to his room and said that he had just lost the privelage to go to the family bowling outing with Ella and Dad. I would be staying home with him.

Consequences. Why are they so hard to give? I pride myself on offering solid parenting advice to the families I've worked with for the last 15 years in my profession. I have read books on parenting and have even attended parent groups and the occasional evening seminar. I know what to do. I know how to set boundaries, offer consistency, focus on the positive, and the importance of follow-through.

However...it is ALL easier said than done.

Last night Harrison and I, after he calmed down enough to have a discussion, talked through the missteps he took which caused his demise. He was able to tell me that the hurried and disheveled life we lead is causing him stress. (It wasn't that coherent, but I got the point.)

This is when I struggle with parenting. This is when I wonder if his behavior is my fault. And this is when I usually back down and wonder later which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Today we have to ready the house for the arrival of my dad tonight. I'll try to provide three solid meals, on time. We'll have a quiet time after lunch and we'll draw and read books at some point. No outings, no pool, no nothing. Hopefully this will quell whatever goes on in his little head. It's all I can do - control this one day.

Brotherly Love

Found this posted at the top of the basement stairs the other day.

Photo Friday, Theme: Barren

Napa, California

Pacific Heights, San Francisco

I don't understand why life can't be like a great vacation. During our trip there was a minimal amount of conflict. I think we slightly raised our voices one day over which road to take when we got lost in the Napa Valley. (Do not snicker - it can be done.) However, the minute we drove into the driveway (and I saw that "someone" had moved my rose bush in 100+ degree weather during a drought in a desert climate) the stress and conflict began. He went back to work - I went back to full time parenting - and the drama we call "life" began all in an instant.

There must be a way to achieve balance. I wonder if this is normal. Was I really that naive to think that this wouldn't happen?

I guess so.

The 4th in San Fran

What better way to spend a romantic vacation with your husband than to hook up with two young Irish backpackers we met in an Irish pub?

pigeons and pretty views

This is the view from our window in San Francisco. I know I should've taken more of the incredible cityscape, but the pigeons are fascinating me. They are right outside my window and make those cool pigeon coos.

We arrived yesterday afternoon and immediately decided that a little run was in order. Chris mapped out this great route that took us down by the marina. Quickly we learned that there are hills here. Big hills. I have to admit that we ran for an hour and only stopped a few times for traffic. Until the end. Chris ran straight up this long, steep hill and that was when I had to yell "uncle". Today we are sore. We walked a few miles to and from our drinking hole last night and that about did us in. (Try walking up a super steep hill intoxicated...it's not fun.) We took the car today to tour around. Only the flat places. We have a stick shift and don't want to roll back into anybody.

More food and drink tonight. Fireworks over Fisherman's Wharf. A little more sightseeing this afternoon if Chris wakes up from his nap.

Life is really great. I can't believe I get to do this.

A vacation...not a trip

View of Napa Valley from Rutherford Hills Winery


Often, after traveling with the kids, I'll return from time away more exhausted than when I left. A good friend of mine in Green Bay told me early on..."You need to rearrange your thinking - you're not going on a vacation - it's just a trip." So I would drag car seats, diapers, toys, etc. all over the country and swear a lot, but at least I got away.

I have not felt this way this time. I desperately miss my kids. Worry that they are not having fun, or that their routine is getting so screwed up I'll never get it back, but not enough to go home. Chris and I are having a great time. We began by driving acrross the surface of the moon (some call it Nevada) and then landed in Lake Tahoe for the night. (I NEED to own a cottage there.) Sunday we came to Napa. (I NEED to own a villa here.) And now we're heading for San Francisco. We have reservations for two nights and then we'll see how we feel. I think we may stay a third night there and then head back to Truckee, CA for another night. We brought our road bikes and found some great routes that we want to try.

I can see why people like vacations. This is really cool.

Bedtime stories on the new front porch

Stuff we did this weekend

Went to a pirate-themed birthday party.

Tore stuff out of our basement, took out that door on the right and framed in a new bathroom.

Tore down some plaster and lathe in our new bathroom.

Practiced baseball at a park up out of the heat in Park City.

Ella at the same park.

My attempt to be artsy at the park

I think it looks pretty great so far!

We also went to one of Harrison's baseball games and had dinner with a great couple and their kids. Unfortunately I didn't have my camera to capture the hilarious attempts to maneuver a Slip 'N Slide for the first time or Harry's two amazing hits.

I also finally planted my pots for the new porch (so I could take photos and show that off), but it's been so hot that over half my flowers have died. I planted them anyway and will give them a chance to come back. I watered them four times today to make up for missing yesterday. Now I'll probably kill them with too much attention!

Feels like this post is a laundry list, but this is all I have in me right now.

Looking forward to the end of the week. My in-laws are driving out from Wisconsin later this week.  My in-laws are keeping the kids next week so that we can go on our first overnight trip for four years. We're heading to Napa and San Francisco. It's hard to even imagine that much time away from the kids.

I'm sure I'll manage.

Photos from my trip to the Como Zoo and Conservatory

It started with illness. I was feeling flu-ish and icky. That turned into strep throat. This often happens after I've finished the school year - as if my body knows that I don't have to get up and go anywhere official. Unfortunately I did have to go places. I had about four days to get ready for a trip to Minnesota with the kids. About 9:30 PM, the night before my 7:00 AM flight, I was able to stand and pack. I managed not to forget too many things in spite of my foggy, doped-up state!

It took about 36 hours on antibiotics and I was able to walk around the Mall of America four times without collapsing. This is quite a feat completely healthy - that place is enormous. My brother took some time off and he, and his three kids, galavanted around the Twin Cities with us for four days. It was really great to do a bunch of touristy things that I usually don't have time for.

Chris joined us for the weekend and my brother took the kids for an overnight. First time my kids have been away from us since Ella was 14 months old. Long overdue.

Harrison and Ella are still exhausted from trying to keep up with their three cousins. Even though we did lots of activities, I think their favorite thing was running in my dad's backyard. I so miss having a large yard.

Much more to write about, but apparently I promised to take the kids to the park "first thing" and it's a little past that right now.

more photos

I get to buy a new toilet!

This is the beautiful unfinished portion of our basement. A NEW bathroom will be going in right there. Can you see it? The bookshelves will be gone. The door will be gone. It will go right there.

See it?








We’ve lived here three years and have done absolutely nothing to improve this house. Oh, I lied. We put up a shelf and hooks, by the back door, to hold outerwear and store mittens. After the four year saga of remodeling an 100+ year old home in Wisconsin, we were pretty thrilled to just sit tight after moving in to this house. Hell, Chris wouldn’t even mow – he was so fed up with all the projects.

But slowly, and I probably should have expected it, my husband’s need to re-do, rearrange and remodel has returned with gusto. His brother is a contractor and the two of them have come up with some pretty amazing ideas to make this house more livable. Phase one: create outdoor living space. New front porch (check), and new retaining wall in the back (check) with new fence and deck (still in planning stages.)

Phase two: second bathroom. We cleared out the basement area where it is to be located and waited tonight for a concrete guy to come and saw cut something to somewhere so that I can take a shower. He didn’t show. Neither did the mason guy. Which leads back to phase one.

We originally wanted a fire pit in the backyard. We so want our house to be welcoming and fun for teenagers some day. Anyway, the fire pit has turned into a fireplace. This is what happens when the men on my husband’s side get together. They are dreamers. Planners. Nothing is too big, too hard or too much for them.

It scares me to death. I come from a long line of conservative Northern Europeans who keep their money and feelings close to their vest. We don’t dream big and then everything that goes well is just a big surprise. This contrast in our upbringing has been a source of conflict lately. I say, “How much? Are you sure? Can that really be done?” and he says, “Who cares? Or “Not that much.”, Of course I’m sure. Anything can be done.”

I have to admit that watching the progress we’ve made, in the last six weeks or so, has been pretty exciting. The front porch still needs finishing touches (brick trim and a railing and stain) but the hard part is all done. The deck is being laid out as I write this. The pilings will be put in starting this week and then it will be built soon after. I don’t know about the fireplace, but everyone assures me that it will be “easy” to pull together. The fence? I have no idea. Our neighbor has designed it and will help build, install and pay for half. Yea!

So…while all that is being done – we may as well throw the furnace in the attic. Apparently all we have to do is “put a bigger hole in the ceiling” and then build a platform. A furnace guy will show up, tear out all the duct work and rearrange it so that it will work “top down”. All this so that I can have a taller ceiling in my new bathroom.

I wonder if all those adorable graduates I spoke to yesterday really realize the stuff they’ll be stoked about in the coming years. Never, ever in a million years could you have convinced me – at age 18 – that down the road I would be willing to pay thousands to move my furnace AND be happy about it.

Things are looking up

It's been a productive weekend...

...I put together my new porch furniture and have lounged on it no less than seven different times since yesterday afternoon.

...I just finished the first draft of my commencement speech! It's two minutes over the time allotment I've been given, but that's better than two minutes short!

...and I received a phone call yesterday morning telling me the best news of all. I HAVE A JOB FOR NEXT FALL!!!! I will be returning to a high school setting. I'm impressed with my new principal and truly looking forward to this new change in our lives. It is full time, but my work day will end earlier than my previous full time position. I hope to still have plenty of time to give the kids everything they need.

I guess Googling "high school commencement speeches" right before bedtime wasn't such a great idea.

Growing up I was sure that I was adopted. I didn’t feel that I resembled anyone in my family nor was my personality similar. As I entered my thirties, and large amounts of fat left my face, more and more people commented that I looked just like my father. Confirmation, finally.

Over the years, I have come to realize that I have a few other things in common with my dad. Our sense of humor is similar (we both have a quick, dry wit), we both tell elaborate stories, full of minutia and detail, that usually last longer than the listener prefers, and we both enjoy flirting. My parents were a part of a dinner club that met monthly rotating locations among the members. My brother and I would be “sent” to our rooms when it was my parents turn to host, but I would sneak out occasionally to watch. I have vivid memories of my dad laughing, sipping a cocktail and holding a cigarette. He rarely smoked, nor smiled, so these were easy things to remember. Surrounding him were women who seemed very engaged by his storytelling. If family friends came over, my dad would often be chatting with the woman rather than the man. He’s really not a guy’s guy, so this never shocked my mother or me. Even though my parent’s marriage was less than perfect, my father never strayed. I have no doubt it ever even crossed his mind. He was content to take in the occasional adulation and then move on with his very orderly and comfortable routine of a life.

When visiting my father in Florida a few months ago, he started telling me about recurring dreams that he has. The dreams are very similar but fortunately pretty rare. They are unsettling enough, however, to cause him to remember them the next day. Each dream has the same theme. He is in a situation that he can’t get out of. There is a lot of stress with no reconciliation or positive ending. He usually just awakes in the morning upset and tired. Last night I had one of those dreams.

Next week I am giving a high school commencement speech. The seniors, from the high school I worked at through last October, have asked me to speak. I accepted this honor gleefully about six weeks ago, but have now sunk into a cavernous pit of fear, apprehension, panic and downright terror. I haven’t been discussing these emotions, and actually didn’t even realize that I had them this strongly, until this morning.

My dream was pretty predictable. On the day of commencement, I am in a strange setting with lots of people that I do not know. I have procrastinated to the point of no return and do not have a prepared speech. I begin asking aforementioned “people” for commencement speech ideas. The most common response I receive is “Just wing it!” I quickly realize that I am not dressed properly. This is when the deck of cards really begins to crumble. I do not know where the commencement is being held. Is it at the same location as last year, which in my dream I think has awful parking, or is it at the high school, with good parking? However, the parking doesn’t matter because I can’t find my car. The strange setting I’m in, with all the people, has millions of cars parked in the street. My car, I believe, is blocks away. I try to call my former co-worker so that he can tell me which location to go to, but he won’t answer his phone because the ceremony has already started. OF COURSE I’M LATE – THIS IS AN AWFUL, AWFUL DREAM. Somehow I beam myself to the graduation and am only a half hour late. I traipse up to the podium, in my unsightly outfit, and proceed to “wing it.” In my dream I went through about 15 different things that I might be able to discuss. The stress was so real that I can still feel now. I start to ramble and manage to get a few laughs (see above: “dry sense of humor”, ability to tell “elaborate stories, full of minutia and details“), but quickly realize that I don’t know where the hell any of it is going, nor what my time limit is. At that point, THANKFULLY, I woke up.

I have about four and a half days to write a speech. I have a couple ideas for a theme, but I can’t seem to get anything down on paper. I think the thing I’m most worried about is that I won’t make an impact. That my words will sound just like anyone else’s that will not know them the way that I do. I am so honored that they had to opportunity to ask two faculty members to speak at their graduation, and they picked me as one of the two. Me – the one who left them mid-year. Me – the one who they don’t see daily. Me – the one who often wondered if anything I was saying or doing was getting through to them.

Working in education can be so grueling and thankless. There are few concrete rewards to keep a person going. Especially, as a counselor, I rarely get to see the end results of any of my work. It’s less tangible than teaching kids to read, for example. I don’t know if my “inspirational” lectures are going in one ear and out the other, or if they are settling into their hearts to be pulled out later when they need them.

Next Tuesday, as I stand properly attired with a written speech in front of me in the correct room at the correct time, I know I will feel incredibly satisfied with the profession I have chosen.

Wine, anyone?

The finishers have been working on the large front porch slab for over two hours. The kids have made their mark. The furniture is disassembled, and laying all over my dining room, waiting for the slab to dry.

By Thursday I should be fully enjoying it.

War torn neighborhood of Baghdad?

No, it's just out backyard.