tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28254127935174021492024-03-21T20:07:16.349-05:00ethiopifinnmy versions of motherhood and wifery, friendship and sisterhood.ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.comBlogger864125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-50010407445006774712020-06-29T15:33:00.001-05:002020-06-29T15:39:10.709-05:00Hello? HelLO? Are you as fascinated with your own cool self as I am with my own cool self? <div><br /></div><div>There are A LOT of why's I've been happy and relieved to release. Kind of like the summer shed, or how snakes wriggle right out of their too small skin and slither into the day with their shiny selfs already in place. Dogs just live the best dog life, walking through a cloud of shed fur. Rolling in the grass on a really good gross smell they've discovered, and leaving behind little packets of fur they just don't need. Not debating whether she...I'll use Purdy Pup to avoid the they/their situation. It's? She...<i>should</i> shed a little, since it <i>is</i> getting warmer, no. Purdy just pops around the house leaving a furry flight trail behind. Do you suppose a Rattler is staying up nights fretting over the pros and cons of leaving that skin behind? Hecks no. They just do. And so, like the best slithering snakes and warmest dogs, some of our why's just fall away without much work or thought. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe every year you are able to live past 26, you do the natural work or answering or releasing our life questions. And then the closer you get to 45, some of the why's that fell away are revealed! Oh. Now I see why I reacted that way! Ach! I wish she knew that won't matter down the road. I am struggling with a question about my own behavior, it may be an issue I will ultimately need help understanding, but this much I know: it will be my life long partner. </div><div><br /></div><div>Food. Health. Movement. Why is it sometimes I am certain healthful eating is a hill I cannot climb? And I try to make myself start a program for weight loss, but my stamina drops off after a few months with Noom, or one day in the case of Whole 30, three memberships to Weight Watchers. A YMCA membership ignored! A series of appointments cancelled with the medical weight loss providers in my network. The Corona shut down started here in MN just before my first video appointment was scheduled and I could not stop stressing about it. My anxiety was through the roof with kids home from school and no work for me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thursday night during my Instascrolling, I "tapped for more" on an advertisement, ultimately purchasing a menu for pre-diabetes. I ordered groceries to be delivered the next morning. I followed the menu for day one, prepared for day two. I want to know what is it that tells me I am ready or I am not. Why is it I am interested in this diet change right now? We made a spontaneous trip to Duluth, thanks to the neighbor's willingness to let the dogs in and out. I ate what I wanted, was mindful about portions and carbs, I didn't throw it all away. I didn't abandon myself out on this ledge of health and being. Today is day four, Day IV, and I'm not in tears. I'm not wringing my hand about eating. I'm not worried if I can "stay on plan". In fact, I felt like a bawse drinking coconut milk in my coffee, rather then all the cream you can add and still call it coffee. Cashew butter tastes like the best thing ever. At the moment I have fish thawing in the fridge. I have a plan, and I have some sort of looseness in my spirit. I'm allowing for not being perfect. </div><div><br /></div><div>Why though. Why was Thursday different from another night? Why have I stopped being mindful and intentional in the past? How will I manage to reach my goal? Why does goal setting appeal to me now, and motivate me, (I am saving for an egress window for the basement), and not before? Why did goal choke me previously? The answer is...the answer is...I don't know. I just know that later I will have some fish and some greens and probably a little something more than that. I know that tomorrow is a salon day, and that will make for some challenges, but it will be okay. I will be okay. Because why not?</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-88995484525308143182016-02-21T00:47:00.001-06:002016-02-21T00:47:18.463-06:00We have it allRussell has strep throat again, or more likely, still. A month ago he, Suvi, and Judah did 10 days of antibiotics to kill strep, but this guy is miserable again. Throwing up, stinky runny diapers, cranky, over tired. And I'm exhausted. Habtamu has been sleeping on the couch more often than not so at least one of us can sleep. Russell ends up in Dad's side of the bed an awful lot! <div>I actually like sleeping with my kids once in a while. I love that little warm breath keeping pace through the night. But Mr Russgus likes to sleep east/west in a full size north/south kind of bed. He still gets up every night sometime between 11 and 1 o'clock. After that, he can't seem to settle back into his own bed. He'll keep waking up bawling many times. So it's probably counter productive to have him sleep with Mom, yet it keeps him sleeping longer and the house quiet for the rest of these hooligans.</div><div>And now he is sick. Again. </div><div>I have been down with bug after bug myself since September. It's bringing me down. My clients are mentioning it. My Mom is telling me to eat oranges. </div><div>I'm all, "Calgon, take me away!" (Not really. Baths take too long.)</div><div><br></div><div>It's difficult to maintain perspective when one is sleep deprived. I, for one, start to think of every detail about my life that isn't perfect. This house needs repairs, remodeling, clutter-reduction, redecorating. The same goes for me. My doctor retired last May, and I haven't settled on a new one. I need to make an appointment. The kids want to sign up for sports, but it's so expensive. My hair looks stupid. We don't see friends. We don't go on dates. I haven't been to Finland in 16 years. I keep losing my book. </div><div><br></div><div>Blink, blink.</div><div><br></div><div>Then I start to feel guilty for not appreciating what we DO have. A car that's paid off, a (humble) house we can afford. A good clinic near-by for our otherwise healthy family. Gram 3 doors down. Friends we miss! Extended family that is safe and accounted for. 2 jobs we like. Library cards. An excellent school for our kids. A kindergartener who is starting to read!! HGTV. PBS. Adele. 45 minutes of cozy time on the couch to chat with and to be cheered by my faithful, hardworking husband.</div><div><br></div><div>Sigh. I do want a snazzy house, but I'm happy for the love inside our little, shabby shack. And that Spring is nearly here.</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-73476155925919704522016-02-15T19:09:00.001-06:002016-02-15T19:14:34.273-06:00I'll cry your tears...even and especially if you didn't ask.<div><br></div><div>At church on Sunday, I made the lady sitting next to me cry. She has a special place in my heart because she moved far away from her parents and siblings when she was a young, red sports car driving, chick TO MARRY A MINNESOTA BOY. I wanted to move far, far away when I was a young, city bus riding, chick. </div><div>When you're young, it's likely you can't look to the future: your spring brain doesn't yet know what it doesn't know. Youth is a risk taking season. It's energizing and summer lasts a really long time. I married a feller who took a youthful leap into adventure far away from home...these are my people.</div><div><br></div><div>And so, sitting in my pew there four rows from the back, I observed a brother (who is now local) smile with his whole face when his sister walked up the aisle towards him. She lives 6 or 7 or 8 hours away, I think, and it was just lovely to see these siblings embrace. Then. Hot tears filled my eyes so that when I stopped being nosey and looked back to my song book, the words were swimming. Tears for the woman next to me who doesn't get to embrace her brother on a (somewhat random) Sunday morning. Over-seas is really far away when you'd do well with a hug from your brother.</div><div><br></div><div>And because sometimes my <i>release </i>involves an other, I had to tell her my thoughts. And that I had absorbed some of the sting she has coped with and sorted in her many years in her "new" home. </div><div>My tears were for you. I see you. I recognize that you have sacrificed. Immigrants are fascinating folks. You are super rad. (Also I'm sorry for the unplanned cry session. 😬)</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-87011226519930208782016-01-02T14:41:00.001-06:002016-01-02T14:41:40.432-06:00Hello, red bird.Sitting in my car listening to Radio Lab, I was startled by a cardinal lighting on a branch outside my window. "Hello, red bird. Who are you?"ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-8378859103206554042016-01-01T02:02:00.001-06:002016-01-01T02:02:26.020-06:00Word up!Release.<div> •expectations </div><div> •habits that are, or have become, <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">unnecessary</span></div><div> •joy, so it can bounce around </div><div>unregulated</div><div> •shame </div><div> •fear</div><div> •my truth.</div><div><br></div><div>That's my word for 2016 (or 5-4, in my personal, on-going need for math (*/4)): R-e-l-e-a-s-e. I'm going all Elsa up in here an' gonna Let It Go, y'all!</div><div><br></div><div>Happy New Year!!!!</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-a4XzrdHi_02Kwb8Ica1oQOSlE8OeU5kDCw8lEP2DDQZ6aQf_6RG-5VpoC-li52Ljw9scWM0uUmGwqlKzWaleMU7D_O1OlxCC7rMsebXizHVLAkM4d82nuQI8yWQVP768uFCpHU-TnL0/s640/blogger-image--285318744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-a4XzrdHi_02Kwb8Ica1oQOSlE8OeU5kDCw8lEP2DDQZ6aQf_6RG-5VpoC-li52Ljw9scWM0uUmGwqlKzWaleMU7D_O1OlxCC7rMsebXizHVLAkM4d82nuQI8yWQVP768uFCpHU-TnL0/s640/blogger-image--285318744.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-44820278020222094282015-12-17T23:53:00.001-06:002015-12-17T23:53:16.714-06:00V cutToday I put a fountain pop in my purse. <div><br></div><div>In the evening, I cut a v in my finger during a haircut. I was really warm and it was distracting me from the long to short cut I was working on. After I knicked my finger with the shears, I got a bandage, took off my sweater (immodest tank exposed!), spilled water on my phone + desk, and found a piece of gum. Cooling off + chewing peppermint gum helped me regain focus. My client let me cut 10-12 inches from her hair. It was great fun to see the new style reveal itself. She looked younger by 10 years. At least!</div><div><br></div><div>I'm sure there were plenty of other ditzy moments in between the forgotten fountain pop tipping in my purse and spilling water on my phone (it's fine-I'm using it right now!), but I'm happy my day turned around. </div><div><br></div><div>Tomorrow will be clearer with more rest. Good night!</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-29328321889474204352015-12-16T19:19:00.001-06:002015-12-16T19:19:53.351-06:00Numbness in the extremities<div>I'm feeling like I'm on the cusp of something. You know that feeling? Like bumbling around in the dark, when everything familiar by day becomes foreign by night. </div><div>I never believed people when they said they turned their feelings off. But I'm eating compulsively. It's my tell.</div><div>As if I'm stepping into the room with trepidation and both hands reaching out in front of me to detect and lessen the pain of collision. What is it there? What can I not see? </div><div>What am I afraid of?</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-102040261096232282015-09-16T22:18:00.000-05:002015-09-16T22:18:23.853-05:00the moment was lost<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just read a really touching account of a dear client's day. She is going through a heavy time, but her words and her intention of holding on to the funny, sort of <em>highlights</em> of the day by day, struck a chord with me. <br />
I want to remember these little humble moments I have with these little boys here at home. Judah just comes up with some of THE BEST theories in his 4 year old mind. He makes us laugh. A lot. Russell pulled himself up to standing for the first time yesterday. It was thrilling! He doesn't roll or crawl, so while we're not panicked, we are paying attention. He scoots on his booty the same way Judah did. It is adorbs. We want to be sure there isn't a reason besides his 27.7 lbs at 10 months of age, and watch that he does eventually hit those developmental milestones. Gross motor.<br />
<br />
So after reading CG's post, I felt the swell of emotion, touched by her words so bittersweet, inspiration to return to writing out our moments. Then the boys needed me for little Mama things like they do, and my chest cooled and my thoughts strayed and my moments to capture fell from my head. The moment was lost. I hope to find it again!</div>
ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-91539081607915362582014-11-18T14:35:00.001-06:002014-11-18T14:35:47.706-06:00I have a Tell<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLXqzVvMpHWfikFcLOi06EZXYEM9lm4L9wWjRjw_9SczPPIt_lP-Z_hu_J_4EagdM5CNn3FkVQHehQ0u8J2I-hWG76mHYnDhhxABl1Oi4yTosF3AwUHoCE22EJqsa7vadlR32geYz7rc/s640/blogger-image--349822394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLXqzVvMpHWfikFcLOi06EZXYEM9lm4L9wWjRjw_9SczPPIt_lP-Z_hu_J_4EagdM5CNn3FkVQHehQ0u8J2I-hWG76mHYnDhhxABl1Oi4yTosF3AwUHoCE22EJqsa7vadlR32geYz7rc/s640/blogger-image--349822394.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When my purse is overflowing, when my stuff is scattered, when my phone is full of selfies...I.am.struggling. I get blind and project when I'm in deep. Kind of victim/help&hope-less. It's gross.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So I am THANKFUL FOR MOMENTS OF PERSPECTIVE. And patience, kindness, perseverance in my husband. He is really so much more amazeballs than I can express! I'm going to go ahead and reach way down and light a fire under my SISU. I think it was in the deep freeze for a couple-ten years. Don't look back with woe and regret, just climb through the window already!!!! Yeehaw!</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-90028614504919092962014-11-18T09:38:00.001-06:002014-11-18T09:38:29.054-06:00I'm looking for that open windowJust to let you know, a) this is a vague post, b) I'm okay, c) I am cultivating my sisu.<div>http://www.businessinsider.com/finnish-word-sisu-is-key-to-success-2014-6</div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRqrGuNTz7dggIKUOsvnx3Hka09UQhHEOt3KwcHK4oBdZAEi_2zS6uI7SpWgxNpyzkwxCiB2w38XD46BA0sUiiztQNNEVlFfMTXnfnPmEalDJvpSUUsQ-IJEYHnGdxfP_RbOR_Xht_MP0/s640/blogger-image-687097109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRqrGuNTz7dggIKUOsvnx3Hka09UQhHEOt3KwcHK4oBdZAEi_2zS6uI7SpWgxNpyzkwxCiB2w38XD46BA0sUiiztQNNEVlFfMTXnfnPmEalDJvpSUUsQ-IJEYHnGdxfP_RbOR_Xht_MP0/s640/blogger-image-687097109.jpg"></a></div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-44815380382533929282014-10-07T15:12:00.001-05:002014-10-07T15:12:26.969-05:00Waah!Russell and I are no longer in an exclusive relationship. I'm not ready for this!<div>He has been romancing sweet Potato, as well as Carrot for the past few days. He still gazes at me lovingly, and he gets emotional if he can't get to me fast enough, but he is growing apart from me.</div><div>On Friday night, Russell will be six. months. old.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Xm0XsbNIttUHJYkwD4xcCwrp9Zf2mrrM4CJXeA0NbMTrIvRvrBQbA7tl1Upt1mQAvxDxdD4_O4aScKvjp28rjoJ8xLc_z7v7VFBAQezyCk-7ktFE1tWqSJhtDS0a4uXhvRwxddNOph4/s640/blogger-image-1831387898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Xm0XsbNIttUHJYkwD4xcCwrp9Zf2mrrM4CJXeA0NbMTrIvRvrBQbA7tl1Upt1mQAvxDxdD4_O4aScKvjp28rjoJ8xLc_z7v7VFBAQezyCk-7ktFE1tWqSJhtDS0a4uXhvRwxddNOph4/s640/blogger-image-1831387898.jpg"></a></div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-45741273968283751012014-09-26T15:53:00.001-05:002014-09-26T15:53:01.840-05:00BFFIt seems like I have been BFF: breast-feeding forever.<div>It started almost 8 years ago...I was so determined to figure it out. I felt as though it was the one thing I would not compromise. It took 4 months before I could get him to latch on without a silicone nipple shield. Four months of being as discreet as I could. I brought expressed milk in bottles to church. Trying to feed that first one without my Boppy pillow and footrest seemed impossible. He was 8 months old when I switched completely to formula because his sister was on her way.</div><div>Labor and delivery with Suvi were ideal, as far as the watermelon/lemon thing goes. My water broke around 6 AM and she was born by 11:40 AM. She looked like a little wet kitten. She latched on like a champ! She was such an easy baby, with a super loud cry. I was tired with a toddler and a newborn. I could sit on a friend's couch, <i>without my Boppy, </i>we even went camping, and feeding her was just fine. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">We made it 5 1/2 months of nursing until she switched to formula. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I still feel a little sad about that, but she seems to be doing ok. She's in first grade.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Judah nursed for 14 months. I felt like a champ. I sat in the mother's room with him at church, chatting with the other ladies. I fed him at the park, and in the dark, and something that rhymes with -ark. Ha. It was easy & I could cover up easily, and I pumped at work. 14 months.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGTgkDIaZUo_6l3S2r049hdSp51wsGL5QMbd7_pKhFNduYurGJCGADyRZPNTGri4qDiGmHXj__Fq6_pmAaH8HUMoRF9mItDzFftSJbJW8BN0S9FxO-sBLhctggVal-H9xsfXsPn5sPvDg/s640/blogger-image--94798704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGTgkDIaZUo_6l3S2r049hdSp51wsGL5QMbd7_pKhFNduYurGJCGADyRZPNTGri4qDiGmHXj__Fq6_pmAaH8HUMoRF9mItDzFftSJbJW8BN0S9FxO-sBLhctggVal-H9xsfXsPn5sPvDg/s640/blogger-image--94798704.jpg"></a></div>With this guy, any modesty I had left is gone. It's like I care, but not more than I care that he's crying. And I have the other needs of the older kids to worry about. So I've fed him at the bus stop in a sling under a hooter hider, in Costco at the lunch tables, and last Sunday in my church pew. I'd already been in the cry room with him for a snack, and I just didn't want to go out again. Probably left my friend sitting on the same bench mortified! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'm not trying to be some shirtless statement maker. I don't know, I'm just desensitized. And this time is going so quickly! Russell is already 169 days old! Teehee. I counted it out only for this post. He's 5 1/2 months old. I'm enjoying being his Mom. Someday he'll be getting traffic tickets and taking his future wife on their first date. He won't remember snuggling sessions with me after his feedings. I will. I'll remember the weight of this baby in my arms and on my shoulder. I'll remember tracing his eyebrows, patting his back, counting his rolls. I'll forget who I may have flashed a little nip nop to, but I'll always remember my little babes <i>as</i> babes at the breast. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">(In a sweet, non-creepy way.)</span></div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-77577932939076901942014-09-05T19:06:00.001-05:002014-09-05T19:10:36.587-05:00Mmph.I am feeling a bit draggy this week. I'm not sure if it's the barometer, back to school, recovering from the last week of summer fun, or what. But I'm craving sugar and caffeine like a tired ol' gal.<div>What about you? Does the change in schedule affect you? I think I have only done two loads of laundry this week. And the Dad has picked up the dishes slack. Sigh.</div><div>I'm glad he's so super duper.</div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDqTNFPQp_P4QFZLX6FdqYv1GouYLJdyuU7JmiV66jSrABgYoX1QwJcuwkJR4xKNCCx8gcgrVLUpqVkcErzlgHrkPGCWF09kfXA1g26EfQbSMh2Bwwazv3e1csO7Ow5adh2WeW_7UgDE/s640/blogger-image--1415262733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDqTNFPQp_P4QFZLX6FdqYv1GouYLJdyuU7JmiV66jSrABgYoX1QwJcuwkJR4xKNCCx8gcgrVLUpqVkcErzlgHrkPGCWF09kfXA1g26EfQbSMh2Bwwazv3e1csO7Ow5adh2WeW_7UgDE/s640/blogger-image--1415262733.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Judah ran into a spinning Theo and wound up with a shiner. We had an ice cream (chocy on his face) date while the Bigs were in school. My blahness is showing in this picture.</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKAhV2dAW5thDLgk2BrMvhm4Q-wQJpseuwYApwupOFHxFUDacyJW0OWP80xYca8Bd-dfVOrtCVt2V-noEJ2pXoNtVCB1sAmNM6naHEbjKH5-8XChA1WwYao7-rYnPm0z2VwsnKo64gWg/s640/blogger-image-626892757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKAhV2dAW5thDLgk2BrMvhm4Q-wQJpseuwYApwupOFHxFUDacyJW0OWP80xYca8Bd-dfVOrtCVt2V-noEJ2pXoNtVCB1sAmNM6naHEbjKH5-8XChA1WwYao7-rYnPm0z2VwsnKo64gWg/s640/blogger-image-626892757.jpg"></a></div>Russell is starting to sit up.<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQqDmOYggzfKWBKt3zsUdvdTNqUegwqR8eIjv6MHOHvO4IValE6FdMuMMR6SDSYJJUOqMPBTqxnUkUTXQIIT3cJ_Ha6vxh1G7-XnfjCGmV_0BUaekDG5PF42OzxQSnuGge_74hkpamqI/s640/blogger-image--2079636756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQqDmOYggzfKWBKt3zsUdvdTNqUegwqR8eIjv6MHOHvO4IValE6FdMuMMR6SDSYJJUOqMPBTqxnUkUTXQIIT3cJ_Ha6vxh1G7-XnfjCGmV_0BUaekDG5PF42OzxQSnuGge_74hkpamqI/s640/blogger-image--2079636756.jpg"></a></div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-36908494303339535492014-09-05T00:26:00.001-05:002014-09-05T00:26:01.226-05:00More on my situationThis morning Judah asked Russell, "Do you have dweams in yoah head, Baby Wusso?" Age four can be so very charming.<div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2e8vL3_ce6qqGSfcDVqk7-KuEy3G7_2YD9czmHUCnKIv_EgOIBNmrNOFeAvbZGweQclZAFGhK8bmEIb5Oly2OH_y9hidUYkCoM2eaSq4RztOm820jXV6z4t2lrLpANzoRXd5jU1enEs/s640/blogger-image--865376362.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2e8vL3_ce6qqGSfcDVqk7-KuEy3G7_2YD9czmHUCnKIv_EgOIBNmrNOFeAvbZGweQclZAFGhK8bmEIb5Oly2OH_y9hidUYkCoM2eaSq4RztOm820jXV6z4t2lrLpANzoRXd5jU1enEs/s640/blogger-image--865376362.jpg"></a></div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-11567356094633611062014-09-01T23:22:00.001-05:002014-09-01T23:22:22.101-05:00September One• I am a side sleeper.<div>• if I have to get up in the night, I have to switch to my other side when I return to bed.</div><div>• I start on my right side with no blankets, or just covers on my hip (unless it's winter).</div><div>• When I lay on my left side, I have to pull my blanket up & under my left cheek. My back uncovered.</div><div>• School starts tomorrow: I am happy for the routine, but I think a shorter day would be better.</div><div>• Suvi usually came home from kindergarten hungry and tired. I hope it's not too much for her.</div><div>• Theo and I played balloon ball while Dad was outside with S & J. He said, "This is just what I wanted! Alone time with me & Mom. And Russell, I guess. Russell's job this morning is to be cute, Mom. His job is already done. He's just.so.cute."</div><div>• I really enjoyed my few minutes (30?) with him. His only real complaint about school? So little time with Mom.</div><div>• I'm not getting out of bed, but as soon as I post this, I'm turning onto my right side.</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-69406880388291393692014-08-28T20:21:00.001-05:002014-08-28T20:21:43.613-05:00Feeling coveredIt would be so easy for the church friends to forget about my kids. We live 35 minutes away (yes, this is MN: we measure distance in time. Existential, really). Every time they get invited to a birthday, I feel so happy they are remembered. Many parties are on Saturdays when I work, but I do my best to get them out to celebrate those Sunday School friend birthdays. I see Theo holding himself back from playing with the boys. I can't force him to join in. But Suvi lives for a good party. This afternoon my friend, who is also my sister's niece, picked up & dropped off Suvi for her daughter's party. Because I had a client, and because K (my friend/the Mom) knows how important it is to feel like part of the crew. <div>The other invites make me sigh in relief. This one makes my eyes leak a little.</div><div>I'm feeling covered in mercy and grace!</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-47502928554322964792014-08-27T00:46:00.001-05:002014-08-27T09:44:29.667-05:00How they make me happyThese kids, they make me laugh.<div><br></div><div>I just got back to bed after soothing Judah who had woken up from "the weirdest dream." First he explained his weird Scooby Doo dream, then he requested I sing Twinkle, Twinkle, followed by A, B, C's (his favorite songs). I asked him if he'd be able to sleep. "Ya. And sure hope I don't have that weird dream again." Me too, buddy.</div><div><br></div><div>Yesterday Suvi asked how a woman could get pregnant if she wasn't married. "The same way a married lady does," I answered in my most hopeful, dodge-y way. "Ya but <i>how</i>, Mom." We were in the car and Theo perked up. I was absolutely wanting to pull over and run away yelling lalalalala! I gave them the light science version of conception. It seemed to be sufficient for now...</div><div><br></div><div>Ach. Too funny. TOO FUNNY!!</div><div><br></div><div>Hope you get a few chuckles today too!</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-45937820385306416812014-08-24T23:52:00.001-05:002014-08-24T23:52:51.905-05:00A sister for SisWe have bunk beds for Theo and Judah. I wish Suvi had a little sister to love, to boss around, to annoy, to lean on. She has three brothers who adore her. And Jude will serve as a stand in when she needs someone to dress up. He usually likes to look like a wock staw (rockstar) or really handsome (NEVER cute). They put on shows, play super hero figures and Barbies. Suvi is teaching him how to write his name. Without her pushing him, he is satisfied with not knowing how. She makes him want to try. <div>Their relationship makes me happy. They fight, too, don't let me fool you. But a brother who will let you slap some nail polish on his jagged, dirty 4 year old linebacker fingers? Ya can't beat it.</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_wdL5ENsDORLjUd1w3kaHVENqy-v-dBCkR_caDQMzb1EbtDPaThWk46dYXPcxNF224QyVNDIJNr_rXSRmONbXsjKFbOPGjEPeNbzETXi1WiWx9XERWKbUbAg_2WFn546F2OnX1gtseU/s640/blogger-image-1510300021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_wdL5ENsDORLjUd1w3kaHVENqy-v-dBCkR_caDQMzb1EbtDPaThWk46dYXPcxNF224QyVNDIJNr_rXSRmONbXsjKFbOPGjEPeNbzETXi1WiWx9XERWKbUbAg_2WFn546F2OnX1gtseU/s640/blogger-image-1510300021.jpg"></a></div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-73238299112394337142014-08-19T23:36:00.001-05:002014-08-19T23:36:58.717-05:00Tick tick tick tockI'm sitting in the arm chair in our living room trying to find the energy to go to bed. I am appreciating the quiet. Listening to the sound of the clock ticking away and the fridge running reminds me of the sleep-overs of my youth. I hated the sounds in the houses of my friends. I've always been a little scared of the dark & listening to the house tick-tocking and humming made me hope to fall asleep fast. <div>I'm not too skittish when I'm the last one awake in my own house now that I'm a so called grown-up. (Except when Ann posts a scary clown picture on Facebook.) </div><div>Night-night. May you sleep fast and hard and wake refreshed. (Assuming the clowns did not, indeed, get you. SHUDDER.)</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-17198976646696762662014-08-06T07:53:00.001-05:002014-08-06T07:53:53.853-05:00Fear based parentingAnd by that, I mean I was <i>afraid</i> to wake the sick baby, so I slept with the light and TV on. I didn't want to change the environment at. all.<div>He slept all night. <i>Sigh.</i></div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-92174742263654469372014-08-04T13:03:00.001-05:002014-08-04T13:05:16.103-05:00More fun mailThey say no one can eat just one, but that's just not true.<div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvmrSYPa6_0U-ZkBEwaq1d59Ulmica8BOuGNNqrewPLOIQQtbuJgFKgogQGjbYbJ3AFBF8KRYK09HfjTOM-0oIC-UsAqc8lvfImA_S6kR4cS3PlobqdCrPXYCUqyJWlylSxmt-E73Wwk/s640/blogger-image-1614444781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvmrSYPa6_0U-ZkBEwaq1d59Ulmica8BOuGNNqrewPLOIQQtbuJgFKgogQGjbYbJ3AFBF8KRYK09HfjTOM-0oIC-UsAqc8lvfImA_S6kR4cS3PlobqdCrPXYCUqyJWlylSxmt-E73Wwk/s640/blogger-image-1614444781.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I have a friend for whom one was quite enough. (so she mailed the rest to me)</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-82607858916952040502014-07-28T13:54:00.001-05:002014-07-28T13:54:31.979-05:00Do you dread the mailboxI used to love getting the mail from our box by the road when I was a teenager. I wrote a LOT of letters. Later, as a young adult, I wrote and received fewer letters than I once had, but is often find a fun note or card addressed to me.<div>These days, there are more bills than I'd care to admit. Not today! Today there was a whole pile of FUN MAIL!!!!</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQTitHeK1PuoCB3K6cg_yn09NlIgpOiZBdx89DoPnKalteSx0wDND8Nrhyphenhyphenz9v_GVb0199Q5kNfhWjrd-BxIZ8YJAhiqlJolYrIs1RDC9S_CdCrbvcLI_4rx-SRErw70Sg8jVjG9WxsTAA/s640/blogger-image-553437094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQTitHeK1PuoCB3K6cg_yn09NlIgpOiZBdx89DoPnKalteSx0wDND8Nrhyphenhyphenz9v_GVb0199Q5kNfhWjrd-BxIZ8YJAhiqlJolYrIs1RDC9S_CdCrbvcLI_4rx-SRErw70Sg8jVjG9WxsTAA/s640/blogger-image-553437094.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A fun packet full of treats, a handwritten letter, and a couple of gift cards.</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaggh4zJ7QC1oGEs7kkebzPVc_wJzYrp6dMy97sMx9PC8hLwBokrUxGgxj-cV5rZIV3SAIkhLUTjcyc9mnCAi7sRNRfum1iT2ln3BQL9tOcw8_M9c7JZLyJg-9xvJDZ6vyl_kBlug-Mo/s640/blogger-image-803786377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaggh4zJ7QC1oGEs7kkebzPVc_wJzYrp6dMy97sMx9PC8hLwBokrUxGgxj-cV5rZIV3SAIkhLUTjcyc9mnCAi7sRNRfum1iT2ln3BQL9tOcw8_M9c7JZLyJg-9xvJDZ6vyl_kBlug-Mo/s640/blogger-image-803786377.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And a Lego magazine for Theo. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sigh. I love my mailbox again.</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-85120561574360643912014-07-27T14:24:00.001-05:002014-07-27T14:24:45.316-05:00What overtired does<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWZF7IelZmE_auMu7URlZVKKGO6iSd53uXvlYSBW7s2pTU6mAPTKJCKXz22fyaWKXuGhXCdwT-X96Pg7MskU-ldglSpKSl9bu0FltM1e2vN7yiKbhxLXWbNq7OqE0WGXyn8dBRrJzl7iA/s640/blogger-image--1471257440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWZF7IelZmE_auMu7URlZVKKGO6iSd53uXvlYSBW7s2pTU6mAPTKJCKXz22fyaWKXuGhXCdwT-X96Pg7MskU-ldglSpKSl9bu0FltM1e2vN7yiKbhxLXWbNq7OqE0WGXyn8dBRrJzl7iA/s640/blogger-image--1471257440.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My house</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRD3A-M4VvH2CMWmy2JSpdWkuSFCELMUa7HqyodoSzZOmoB3Z7WQG9u7BOryXCL8XxgcXKNuHq5TkzcXplGRb6zAfFdP6TvoY2BvqBs1De1SeJEtaVdzhukFdnsFAbUc-oSTucbl9zGnw/s640/blogger-image--399109812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRD3A-M4VvH2CMWmy2JSpdWkuSFCELMUa7HqyodoSzZOmoB3Z7WQG9u7BOryXCL8XxgcXKNuHq5TkzcXplGRb6zAfFdP6TvoY2BvqBs1De1SeJEtaVdzhukFdnsFAbUc-oSTucbl9zGnw/s640/blogger-image--399109812.jpg"></a></div>Mari's house<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oU0t8rFxW3_NDQf6sDRtUn9vQ4xLZAkQuFc8YVUOUSVtmAKUScOPCFPDVHln-__nyVbzNp5s9wDqSgXN_O2YY8a2czNw8KMeCnm_xn043hLR1vrlu07tE9x8ysFZvaLwFYd-2T-lQek/s640/blogger-image-2011943994.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oU0t8rFxW3_NDQf6sDRtUn9vQ4xLZAkQuFc8YVUOUSVtmAKUScOPCFPDVHln-__nyVbzNp5s9wDqSgXN_O2YY8a2czNw8KMeCnm_xn043hLR1vrlu07tE9x8ysFZvaLwFYd-2T-lQek/s640/blogger-image-2011943994.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Katie's house</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-541524524763481242014-07-24T15:36:00.001-05:002014-07-24T15:36:42.265-05:00Time to take my temperatureOver the years, I've used this place to share my struggles with depression and anxiety. Today, as I was washing the tray on my dish drain, I realized, "hey, I'm washing this thing because I noticed it needed washing!"<div>You know, that kind of every-day thing was so difficult even 2 years ago. We had a clear dish drain tray. It had a lot of build up from our hard water. My husband wanted to pick up a new one, but I put up a big fuss. I did NOT WANT a new one. And I really couldn't keep the one we had clean anymore. I was emotionally attached to the dish drain tray. THE DISH DRAIN <i>TRAY, </i>you guys. Eventually I got a new, white tray. I clean it on a regular basis. And by 'regular' I mean <i>quarterly.</i></div><div>I'm still a terr'ble house keeper. </div><div>Thankful for regular, for quarterly, for walking out of the fog.</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825412793517402149.post-44383209216656372072014-07-17T22:48:00.001-05:002014-07-17T22:48:29.656-05:00It's all meThe lady jammin to One Direction in her grocery getter<div>The lady making bread at 10:30 PM</div><div>The lady who almost sprinkled garlic powder on her cereal (instead of cinnamon)</div><div><br></div><div>Aaaaallllll me!</div>ethiopifinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804387023386303505noreply@blogger.com0