Fact Sheet

I've met a ton of new bloggers lately and have genuinely enjoyed soaking in each of your blogs! Sitting on the eve of another edition of Friday Follow, I thought an overview Mammalog was in order!



What you need (ok, maybe not NEED) to know about me:

Mammalog is just that- a log of stuff about me, a wife and mamma of three. I throw my tantrums here, offer my thoughts and reflections, beg for help and advice, give tutorials, share ideas pertaining to my hobbies, and occasionally give away things that I find amazing.

I crave connections and believe that my integrity and character can be stronger when challenged by others. That's why I think the blog community is such a wonderful movement!

I'm a hobbyist- it's unintentional and uncontrollable! I crochet, bake and decorate cakes, take portraits, scrapbook, sew, write, and wouldn't hesitate to try to learn something else to keep from purchasing it!

I feel no need to be equal to my husband in my marriage. We both know that he's great at bringing home the bacon, and I'm great at making it stretch.

I embrace the biological differences between men and women.

I do feel the need to be respected, cherished, and validated by my husband.

I am a stay-at-home mom and homemaker.
Our home does not include satellite or cable. We have a TV and DVD player, but no service provider here! It just seems like a waste of money to us.

We live in the middle of nowhere, Midwest USA, down a mile-long dirt road, in a house that's stalled in mid-renovation. Lucky as I feel to be here, I never dreamed this would be my life.

I feel completely overwhelmed by my kids one day and yearn for three more the next. I am Catholic, and I take the "accept children willingly and lovingly" part of our marriage vows very seriously. I'm not sure my husband loves this about me. HE jokes that we've accepted three of them already!

I met my husband at a fraternity party. That sentence is hilariously opposite of who I am.

I Stink at Creative Writing.

It's a fact, no need to try to convince me otherwise. The irony is that I'm an English major for goodness sake! I filled my elective courses with English classes in high school, aced multiple courses in poetry, creative writing, short story, etc. in college, and I taught creative writing to my high school students before I became a SAHM. But, in spite of my best efforts, know how, and great desire to be a creative writer, I am not one. Do I love it? Absolutely. Poetry at least. I sort of hate writing prose because I am even worse at that than poetry. But, I have come to accept the fact that I will never publish a novel, poem, or even short story. And that's ok. It's strange that God would have given me a love for something for which I have little natural talent, but I'm learning to accept it. Until he turns the light on in my creative brain for writing, I'm content to write creatively in the secrecy of my own journal.

I am, however, a fantastic nonfiction writer when I want to be one. I'm great at grammar, sentence structure, and conveying information in a clear, concise manner. Mr. K must have hammered the "concise and precise" theory into the very core of my brain in AP Comp because it's as if I'm incapable of droning on with useless information. It just makes sense to get in, tell it like it is, and get out. Maybe I don't actually prefer to write this way, but it seems most efficient to me. Why waste people's time with unnecessary information?

In reality, I'm like this in my social life as well. I've always been the quiet one, not because I'm scared to speak but because I'm an observer by nature and do not like to offer useless comments. I'm not sure it is a strength or weakness, but it does explain why my blog posts are rarely more than a couple paragraphs!

September Already?!?

Oh, yes... it's that time of year again.

The temperatures around here have simmered down a bit, and the mornings leave the children begging for a jacket on the way to drop Big Sister at school.

There's something to be said about Autumn.

It's truly my favorite time of year, complete with the crisp air, breezy walks beneath the changing foliage, and the promise of lazy, bug-free hours reading and watching the kids play in the yard.

A few short months filled with caramel apples, pumpkin scented candles, and apple cider...

Months of excursions to the apple orchards, the pumpkin patches, and hayrides...

Oh, yes... Give me autumn any day!

Celebrating Big Sister's Big Number Nine: Reflections

Nine years ago at this time I was monitoring the tightening of my abdomen, timing the length and distance each was from the next, wondering if this would be it.  I was three weeks out from my due date with my firstborn, but somehow the possible complications never crossed my mind.  Youthful ignorance was a blessing back then as there were so many other things for me to worry about.  I was off to the hospital at 10:30 and admitted by midnight.  At 12:33 the next afternoon, I would have endured the worst delivery I've heard stories about even to this day.  I hardly noticed the aftermath, the nurses shocked to find out that I hadn't had an epidural, rather my legs wouldn't support me due to the local anesthetics used after the birth.  I was busy being mesmerized by the tiny toes, the clenched fists, the button nose that had been entrusted to me.  It was her and I, no matter what.  I knew that even then.  

My friends had done their best to include me in their normal lives, and I'm sure that they enjoyed the idea of tiny tie-dye onesies, made in my absence at a get-together, as much as I did.  I can't really imagine being on the other side of my friendships after I was pregnant and married.  There must have been a lot of thoughts unspoken, worries kept secret.  I'm not sure I would have listened to them, and oh, how I needed the comfort of knowing that they were still here, loving me and pulling for me!

I left the hospital with my mom, and before we even went home, I wanted to bring my baby to meet her namesake, my paternal grandmother.  The first granddaughter had been given a variation of my grandma's name, and as this was the first great-granddaughter, I thought it fitting to use another variation for my daughter.  My grandma was already aging, and she passed away when my baby girl was 18 months old.  I so wish they would've gotten to know each other, but I try to share stories of her in the hopes that she will be remembered through me.  

She was so tiny when she was born- I literally dressed her in doll clothes.  I didn't realize just how small she was until I tried to fit Little Miss into her big sister's newborn clothes!

She was such a joy as a baby, a perfect match for me.  I truly believe that God created her with my unique situation and abilities in mind.  When she would wake up in the wee hours of morning, she would crawl into my bed and use her chubby fingers to pry my eyelids apart in the hopes of starting her day before the sun.  At the time, I thought I might die of exhaustion, but I looking back, her spunky personality is what kept me busy enough not to dwell on other parts of my life that were crumbling around me.  

My absolute favorite picture of her.  We'd gone to the fishing park near home one afternoon, in typical fashion, to play and sneak pictures.

And THEN... she started to grow up on me.  This was her first day of preschool.  I didn't get teary as so many mommies do.  I knew without a doubt that she was not only ready but honestly needed the experience.  And she's been yacking her teachers' ears off ever since!

We've dabbled in lots of activities over the years: ballet and tap lessons, soccer, voice lessons, gymnastics, and horseback riding lessons.  None of them have pleased me as much as this first year of dance lessons.  She attended the studio where I had been a student for thirteen years, and it was a joy to watch her swallowed by love from the curly redhead owner who had watched me grow up.  That was the last year the studio was open.

This was Big Sister last year on her birthday.  Every birthday, I take some time to look through the pictures of her from the last year, soaking in my amazement of the changes that have taken place.  Every year, she looses a little more of her childish cuteness and replaces it with the hint of mature beauty.  I can see the future teenager in her already, and THAT does make me want to cry, to freeze time.  It's always been her and I against the world, and I hope, pray, that our connection withstands the years of hormones and arguments over boys and curfews.

Dreaming

I think that, should I ever find myself financially comfortable, I would like to hire a cleaning service- not to pick up or do dishes or laundry- to scrub my house down once a month or so.  I'm not trying to shirk my SAHM responsibilities, rather I would love to hire out for the deep cleaning and instead spend my time on other house chores- like gardening, cooking real meals regularly, and learning to do minor repairs and fix-its.  

With three kids, the thought of being that super mom who has a garden (veggie and flower), washes her curtains frequently, taxis her kids to seventeen events each week, packs the best lunches and provides the favorite hang out for her kids' friend (and hers!) seems a tad improbable.  I consider myself successful if there are clean clothes in the closets and drawers, the bathroom, kitchen and floors are clean, the bills are paid, and the kids are fed some fruits and vegetables each day- even if it's from a can.  

BUT- how nice will it be someday when my kids are all old enough to entertain themselves without painting with my nail polish on the walls?  I'm pretty certain that, should the day come when I can think about spending a little on a cleaning service, my kids will be old enough that I won't long so much for one, but oh, if I had a million dollars today...

Behind the Lens

My favorites from today's session.  I love this kid- and her brother!  This is the third session I've done with them.  Still new to this gig, my returning clients are mostly my friends and family.  I've gotten to know this mom a little better with each visit, and I thoroughly enjoy playing with her kids for an hour at a time.  

All moms come into their portrait sessions the same- worried that their kid(s) will be uncooperative, embarrassing, scared, or just plain defiant.  More often than not, the mom says something like, "My kids must be the worst you've ever had!"  That comment makes me laugh every time- except when the kid IS the worst I'd ever had!

I think that all SAHMs need to reserve a hobby or activity for themselves.  Whether it be yoga, scrap booking, writing, cooking or photography, it is so important to keep a little of what we were before we were moms.

Stuck According to His Will

I read Miss Holly's thoughts at Falling Upward tonight, and as usual, she made me reflect on my own life.

Sometimes I feel like I'm waiting around for my life to start, and I'm afraid it's going to be nine more years before I'll truly be rid of that feeling. The reason? Lovely Judge Clayton has us planted in the town where I was born and raised until my daughter is eighteen. We're half way there this summer.

When my friend circle seems particularly small (though never lacking in quality!), when the activity choices for my kids seems sparse, when I'm forced to move my kid to our public school instead of a different Catholic school, I dream about what life would be like had we been allowed to move closer to the city where my husband works. I detest the fact that I've never lived outside my hometown of 3,500 people. Though I never want to live in the heart of a city, it disappoints me that activities like ice skating lessons or quality performing arts are two hours away. While I love my small-town parish, it makes me sad to know that there are next to no other young Catholic families to befriend. These are the thoughts that go through my head, the ones that I struggle to push out of my heart at least a few times a week.

I know, without a doubt, that God has kept us in this town for a reason. I believe with all my heart that He is working through us somehow, or that we've been kept here to learn a precious lesson. If nothing else, I'm learning that patience isn't just needed while my kids are asking the same question 82 times in a row. No, patience in that context is a breeze for me. It is in the long waits that I struggle. The eighteen year wait to start fresh, to not be known as the girl who had a baby in high school, to find a community where I truly feel at home (instead of only feeling at home inside my the walls of our house), demands my daily prayer for patience and peace.

Once Upon a Time... Wedding Memories

Four years ago, I was sitting in this very room spending the night before my wedding with my dear bridesmaids.  There were so many reasons to be nervous, worried, scared... but that night I felt so at ease, so sure that my life was about to become this amazingly strong alliance between my God, my husband, and myself.  Planning our wedding was fun, and I loved making everything so personal, but my excitement came from knowing that I was about to be surrounded by those who had influenced my fiancee and I throughout our lives as we joined as one.  

There were so many moments that God created in our wedding day.  My husband's closest cousin and life long friend, Scott, had passed away; we displayed his picture beside the groomsmen's pew.  His little sister was one of our three candle lighters.  I'm not sure that she would have even noticed that we were missing Scott that day were it not for her happening to take the window sill candles.  She was so touched, and though she cried a little when she saw her brother's picture before her, I believe it was as much a gift for Miranda as it was a comfort for my husband that day.

We took so much care planning or Mass.  Both my sister's sang.  Our readings, prayers, and petitions praised our God and begged blessings for our life together.  We were so blessed to kneel before the altar together, surrounded by a church full of loved ones praying for us and surrounded by His mercy, grace, and love.  What better way could we have asked to begin our marriage...

I distinctly remember hanging on to that hand, in awe of the man that God had intended me to be one with, amazed at what He had led us both through to be ready for each other.  

And then I found myself married to this crazy, fantastic man!  I knew that, no matter what, he would always be able to make me smile, laugh, and be comforted knowing that he is as committed to me as I to him.

Our wedding part was extensive!  Six bridesmaids and groomsmen, three candle lighters, my daughter the miniature bride, four flower girls, two ushers, and one ring bearer.  Some people would find this excessive, but we truly wanted each person in our wedding to have a special role in our day.  My bridesmaids were my two sisters, two cousins, and two life long friends.  The groomsmen were fraternity brothers, my brother, and a high school friend.  My brothers-in-law served as our ushers, and our young cousins made up the rest of the party.

Our wedding cake was amazing, perfect really.  My aunt made it for us based on a picture I'd found.  She was so very nervous that the cake would topple at any moment.  This was before I took up cake decorating myself, so I didn't understand her concern.  Boy, do I now!  The cake held up beautifully!

The decor of our wedding was so personal!  We ordered roses wholesale from Ecuador so that we could afford the amount I wanted.  We collected wedding pictures from our married guests and displayed them at the bases of our centerpieces amidst quotes and verses about love and marriage.  I so enjoyed watching our guests wander around the tables laughing at wedding shots from the 1970's, smiling at the ones from the 1920's.  

We were so lucky to be surrounded by so many people who love and support us.  We are still lucky to be surrounded by such extensive, through-thick-and-thin family!

And then we were off to start our life together!  We had big plans... have children in a few years, conquer the world, move somewhere exciting... Life certainly hasn't been what we've expected in the last four years.  We thought we'd just  now be getting around to creating a bundle of joy, certainly not entertaining the idea of a third for us and fourth for our family.  We thought we'd be living in the suburbs, certainly not getting ready to settle into my grandparents' home for the next ten years of longer.  I, for one, never imagined to live through four years of marriage and have NO complaints or heartaches.  Don't get me wrong, we've had our issues to work though, but those were issues outside of ourselves. Those were personal dilemmas, issues with other individuals.  I never believed that marriage could be this... happy.  I've lived the best four years of my life in this too-small-for-us house with my crazy husband and our silly kids.  

PS- Happy Anniversary to you and yours, Mrs. Haid!

Random Thought: Whippoorwill

One of my top 10 favorite things about summer arrived early this evening and gave me a serious bout of summer fever!  A single whippoorwill serenaded me into the house this evening.  Growing up, I remember having going to bed before the sun went down in the summers, and while I was a little bummed to be missing the daylight, I loved- and still adore- the lullaby of the whippoorwill as I fell asleep!  

SOUND OF A WHIPPOORWILL

As many times as I wish we lived closer to civilization, I hope that my children grow up with the same appreciation for the nature around them.  While I can't stand the bees, the bugs, the possibility of poison ivy, and the 10 minutes drive to town, a walk through the dew sprinkled field at dusk or a pause in the driveway to take in more stars that I've seen anywhere else is all it takes to remind me that God has led us to our home in the stix.  What a wonderful way to grow up!

Tidbit About the Author

It started with a trip to Portland and escalated when I decided to do my house in blue and brown: my obsession with Starbuck's City Mugs!  It's bad.  I love them!  I wasn't a Starbuck's regular until I tagged along when my husband attended a computer nerd conference in Portland.  If any of you have been there, you can attest to the incredible number of Starbuck's planted in the area.  Sitting at a stoplight, I could see three or more locations before me.  They're practically on every block.  Of course, I had to take a city mug home as a souvenir- what better way to remember the city? After snagging another on a girls' trip to Chicago and a receiving a gift from my sister who moved to LA, the collection was officially started!  This summer, we're heading to Charleston on our way to the South Carolina beaches, and I'm almost as excited to hit the Starbuck's mug shelves as I am to explore the history of the city! Just a little silliness about me!