The Tables Have Turned

Two years ago, when we moved in, we dined at the kid's table for about 3 months.  I have a lot of pictures of us around this table because I thought it was just so funny.  Our renter, possibly feeling sorry for us, or maybe hoping we'd stop making excuses about how we couldn't entertain, loaned us her cute little oval table.

Oval was awesome--so many good times around this table.  But not so great in our small space.  Too many chairs sticking out, tough to get around. So, Scott started designing and testing out templates.

Then the building began. He picked an oak beam from the Ohio barn, had it milled, glued it together and hand-planed it for what seemed like 40 hours.  Oh, and I should mention he fabricated his own hand-plane to do the work.  Goodness, the man has patience.

Voila!  Pure beauty, it fits the five of us comfortably and pulls out to add up to three more.  Thanks to Scott's patience and craft, we will have lots of memories made at this table.

Temporary Legs--we hope Cactofab will make us some groovy metal ones!

Vanessa

It all began with spreadsheets......

Buying a car is no small task.  Still and all, the thought and introspection around this purchase seemed a little excessive around here.  I'm reminded of the "Portlandia chicken episode" in which the couple wants to see the chicken's papers, learn its name, and visit its farm of origin before eating it.  Well, meet, (or meat) our chicken, who I have named VANessa.  Mason thinks it's pretty silly to name a car, and I appreciate his gravity at four years old.

With my 300K mile Subaru leaking oil all over,  needing a minimum of 2K in maintenance, and unable to safely drive further than City Market, we decided it was indeed time to "bite the bullet."  However, I kept torturing myself, wondering if I could keep limping along with the Suby.  "I could take the bus if it breaks down!  Summer is nearly here,  and soon we will be able to bike!  I'll just keep an oil pan under the car, so the river and soil are not at risk.  Let's put a new engine in it--who cares that I have to use a ski pole to hold up the back door, we can't use it to go camping as a family, and it fills with fumes every time we drive it!  Plus, who needs cup holders, a CD player, or AC.  Why spoil myself now?"

My husband's answer was lots and lots of spreadsheets about cars: true cost to own, reliability ratings, pollution readings, size ratios, gas milage, ownership records....you get the picture.

We found a nice, one-owner van in our price range in great shape.  The boy's friends fit safely when they join us.  We no longer have to unload ladders and compressors from Scott's work rig on a Friday afternoon when we want to go camping.  It has a million cup holders and I can listen to something other than my college mix tapes. She is about as long as our house, which I'm trying to not read too much into (think of the chicken...).

The reaction of our peer group has been humorously mixed.  Some quotes, with my commentary:

 "You are too young to be driving a mini van!" Hey, one of the coolest chicas I know drove a mini van when she was in her 20's,  single, and free.  For her, it was the perfect ride for her dog and adventures.

 "Those are the best, most comfortable cars for a family, but I wouldn't be caught dead in one."  Not only am I comfortable in the van,  I'm comfortable being dorky.

 "Get that thing paid off because we could be headed for another great depression and it would be a shame if you lost your house." This totally plays into the Armageddon scenario that loops through my brain nearly nightly at 3am.  If the van is going to be what breaks us, in the meantime we might as well have fun driving it to Moab!

"We are jealous of your van. You made such a good decision!"  Of course, this is my favorite.

Wall Play

If you don't have space on your floor for more toys, consider moving things up the walls.  Here we took a $6 pizza pan and mounted it for magnets.  It's been a big hit.

For Christmas, Mason asked for a car track.  He got a wall mounted one from Santa, which we hung on their bedroom wall.  So thoughtful of our space, that Santa!

As from a previous post, here is one of the boy's favorite spots in the house--their mirror.  The spot for lots of dancing, hugs, tooth brushing, and tantrum observing.  I found a second-hand mirror, so it was quite affordable.

A quick internet search brought up lots of wall mounted kid's toys,  here are a few of my favorites.  Have fun, get creative and use those walls!

Velcro on the wall!



Indoor window boxes! 





Art roll from www.magiccabin.com 9

The Kibbutz

In September, Mom moved next door to live full time.  Last winter was tough for her--she stayed with us for six weeks after coming down with pneumonia, recovered, and then slipped on the ice at her rural home in Yampa, injuring both her legs.  Scary.  As a family, we decided it benefited everyone to have her closer to us, and what with the rental house next door, we had a fantastic option.  

She put a bunch of time and money into her new digs--it looks and feels fantastic.  The boys have a bedroom, and it seems they like being over there more than at home.  Who wouldn't with such a cozy Nana zone!

I love seeing my mom everyday, hugging her and knowing how she is doing.  I can help her move furniture, hold up a picture, bring her some half and half, whatever!  Scott takes care of all the snow on her drive way and  roof, and we share meals at least four times a week.

Fergus' first day on skis in Nana's driveway

Mom gets to see the boys everyday and participate in their raising.  She backs us up on discipline goals and provides a fun outlet right next door.  Rather than Nana being a one week a year event, she is a daily event.  She is invaluable help with child care, taking them when I need to go to the dentist, get a hair cut, or when I am ready to lock them in their room for the rest of the day.

Financially, we are pooling some of the burden of home ownership, with shared trash service, Internet, and food costs.

Of course, we are learning some lessons.  

Living in the Kibbutz means sawing your mom's box spring in half so it will fit up the stairs.  I'm not kidding.

Flexibility is essential. I realized I don't get to choose what my mom asks me for help with.  When she moved in, I had an idea that I'd help her with snow removal, cooking and moving heavy things.  Well, as it turns out, she needs help in other ways.  I've weatherized her windows,  sawed her box spring in half so it would fit upstairs, and done a dump run.  Honestly, she's asked far less of us than I expected.  My lesson is that family is not a rigid thing.  We need and help each other in fits and starts and waves, and all we can ask for is grace--in both the asking and the giving.

Scott is the sole man of the compound, so a lot falls on him.  He has the tools and the skills to do so much, and we ask a lot.  We are lucky to have him!

After four months, I believe we are in a good flow here.  The boys ask before they go charging over to her house at 7am, and she hasn't kept us up with too many wild parties.  No, seriously- she is very respectful of our space.  We are extremely blessed to have her as part of every day, and I know she feels the same.

Kibbutz breakfast.  Uncle Mike in attendance.

Companion

Cassie 

1999-2012

The hardest part of having Cassie gone is that I wasn't ready, but she seemed to be.  You would think that her long life would give me some peace in all this, but instead I just felt greedy.  I wanted more time!  I needed her in my home; she was my protector and my buffer, and the only other female.  We kept carrying her up and down the stairs, cleaning up her messes,  and keeping her free of the lice that plagued her at the end.  All of this was easy compensation for having her with me.

I questioned if we were taking this a bit far.  She was loosing interest in food, she was starting to fall down when eating or doing her business, and she developed a painful abscess from not being able to void properly.  I expected it to be clear, this answer to my question "when should we let her go."  But it was never clear to me, because I never wanted her to go.

Last fall I read an article in the NYT titled "Deciding When a Pet has Suffered Enough" by Jessica Pierce. (Sept 22, 2012)  She referenced Dr. Alice Villalobos' quality of life scale.  On a scale of 1-10 you rate your pet's  Hurt, Hunger, Hydration, Hygiene, Happiness, Mobility, More Good Days Than Bad. If the score is less than 35, she deems the quality of hospice care unacceptable. (http://www.veterinarypracticenews.com/images/pdfs/Quality_of_Life.pdf)

When I read this wonderful, articulate, well-thought out article, I thought, "oh, this will be applicable to our end of life decision for Cassie."  However, when the time came I threw all matrix's and intention and education to the wind and just held on tight.  Through it all Cassie always wanted to be with me, and that is what I took as my sign that she wanted to be alive.  I worked hard at ignoring the fact that her body had another intention.

I had hoped to avoid euthanasia; I wanted her to die naturally and peacefully.  Mostly, I really didn't want to be the one to decide.  But, that is where I had to be courageous as Cassie's companion.  She excelled at her role as my dog: loyal, obedient, on my side every time.  When she came to suffer, I had to fulfill my duty to her, and give her some peace.

It was one of the harder choices I've made, but the right one.  We are all feeling a big void in our little house.