A Constructed Life

For the biggest mother of them all

By Liz April 21, 2013 About Me, Celebrations 2 Comments

Last year on Earth Day, I lectured on GMOs, a topic still near and dear to my heart, along with sustainable farming and knowing WTF is in my food. This year, I thought I’d share the 3 websites I rely on most to feel better about the chemicals/mysterious substances I’m bringing into my home or putting into or onto my body.

The Environmental Working Group’s Cosmetic Database

ewg.org/skindeep

Find the least chemically-laden Anything-That-Touches-Your-or-Your-Baby’s-Skin. From wipes to sunscreen to shampoo and more, you can find the greenest/safest versions here.

The Environmental Working Group’s Guide to Healthy Cleaning

ewg.org/guides/cleaners

Clean your home without loads of questionable and potentially harmful ingredients.

Avoid GMO products

nongmoproject.org/find-non-gmo/search-participating-products

This site is a goldmine of information for those wanting to understand what all the fuss is about with GMOs. The link above will take you to a list of foods that do not contain GMOs, but I encourage you to click around and learn the facts behind GMOs.

Most people assume that I’m anti-GMO because I only believe in organic products. And while in some ways that is true, my beliefs about food stem from a passion for sustainable farming, meaning growing food (animals included) in a way that does not rely on or promote the insanely abundant use of chemicals. I think we all know that dumping toxic materials onto our food or into the ground/waters we live and rely on makes little sense. GMOs promote the use of chemicals in a big, big way. Plus, I want to eat food that nature created, not a scientist. All that said, my household and diet is far from being GMO-free, simply because GMOs are in nearly every single food product on the shelf, even meats, dairy and eggs. The only sure way to avoid them is to buy organic or look for items with the nonGMO verified seal.

Happy Earth Day. Hope you find a moment to enjoy the fresh air and give Mother Earth a pat on the back.

Thanks, and I’ve relaxed

By Liz April 18, 2013 Adeline, motherhood 4 Comments

The day after I wrote that last post, freaking out over somewhat silly things, an 8-year-old boy was killed by a bomb during the Boston marathon. There’s nothing like that to put worries into perspective. Every parent worries – for life – and while we all have the same big worries in common (kidnapping, drugs, bullying, harm, etc), the tiny concerns can set us apart.

As you can tell from my last post, I am concerned about what is happening to the food we eat. In short, I don’t trust it. I worry about the abundance of chemicals we so freely fill our days with and what they are doing to our bodies and environment. But that’s a post for another time.

Today, I want to share two things. First, what you have all obviously been waiting for – did Adeline (and I) survive her first field trip? Yes! Turns out, not surprisingly, I had nothing to worry about. She sat with a little boy named Grady, and I guess they were giggling while on the bus and watching Rumplestiltskin and his gold-spinning ways quite contentedly. As for me, as soon as I vented my concerns here, I felt a million times better, as is so often the case. As for the reasoning behind no seat belts on school buses, there are good reasons! Read them here, if you would like.

The other thing I want to share is an all-time favorite poem that I’m sure many of you have read before. It always quiets my fears regarding my children and makes me remember that their lives are not mine to control. They are theirs to discover.

Children by Khalil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Worrying on a freakish level

By Liz April 14, 2013 About Me, Adeline, Crosby, motherhood 3 Comments

So you’d think with my house on the market, I’d be up late obsessing about whether or not it will sell and where we’ll move to (by the way, 5 showings last week and no offers). But I’m not worrying about it, because I am too obsessed with the minutia of being responsible for the health and well-being of 2 children.

As parents, we are hardwired to worry about our children above anything else. It’s all I’ve been doing lately. I’m not sure if it’s a sign that stay-at-home-moming has officially taken hold and my brain can only process thoughts about my children or if my brain is so overwhelmed by the idea of moving that it’s hyper fixating on other things to stay distracted.

Anyways, I have not been sleeping well because as soon as I shut my eyes at night, my mind inflates with Things I Am Doing Or Might Do That Could Potentially Harm My Kids.

This syndrome, one I know many parents are all too familiar with, began the second Adeline was born, and every time I ascended or descended stairs with her fragile body in my arms, I had visions of tripping and injuring her. Since becoming a mom, whenever I hear a tragic story about a child, I envision it happening to my child…the Oh my god, what if that had been my family? And I want to barf every time it happens, as I feel the anxiety fill by stomach, my heart sink and muscles tense. It sucks, and it’s the worst part about being a parent – worry takes on a whole new definition, becomes a constant companion and sticks with you for the rest of your life.

These days, I worry about the same things I mentioned above, but now throw in things like Am I letting them eat too much sugar? Is the genetically-modified-almost-everything-on-the-grocery-store-shelves messing with them, along with all the other unnatural ingredients? And what about the plastics? The plastics! Plastic sippy cups, plastic bowls, plastic spoons. WTF is plastic even made of ? That mom in music class was using aluminum sippy cups, and I totally should be, too! But what if it’s too late? What if my children have already been poisoned by plastic and Yellow #4 and high fructose corn syrup!?! That is an exact excerpt of my thoughts from last night at around midnight. This is the stuff that keeps me up.

But what’s trumping all my worries lately is a field trip Adeline is supposed to take with her new preschool class (she switched to a new room about a month ago). She’s supposed to ride on a school bus with all 25 of her classmates, who, in her classic, painfully shy and quiet way, she is taking a while to warm up to, and 2-3 teachers to see a high school production of Rumpelstiltskin. I am struggling with this. I’m hung up on there’s no seat belts on buses, which is absurd, because this child has spend her entire life strapped into a 5-point harness car seat and now she’s just supposed to sit on a bench with zero protection? How does that make sense, School Bus Designers and Engineers?

I am so freaked out by this field trip that I have consulted with every mom friend I have with kids Addy’s age that attend preschool. So, has (enter their child’s name) ever gone on a field trip with his/her class? And did they take a bus? And was it fine? And is there any hope that I will one day relax a little as a parent? And of course, all the moms say, “They loved it! It was fine.”

I have the option to attend the field trip as a chaperon, and I’m tempted to do it. But, because Addy is in “watch and learn” mode rather than “dive in and interact” mode with her new classmates (which, p.s. is behavior very typical of her mom), I know if I attend she’ll be stuck to my side the entire time. And I wonder if a new, fantastic experience is just what she needs to unlodge her from her shyness, to shake her out of “watch and learn” and drop her right into “This is awesome! Let’s play and giggle and omg! I love you!” mode with her classmates. But on the other hand, whenever I do go back to work, I will no longer have the opportunity to attend field trips, as one of my mom friends wisely pointed out. And maybe my being there would provide the comfort level she needs to emerge from her shell.

But, furthermore, I am also worrying that I am totally f’ed up because I am worrying about stuff like this. Like W-O-R-R-Y-I-N-G about it. Am I a total weirdo of a mom who needs to chill? Perhaps sleep instead of envision the chemicals filling the air every time I use a non-stick pan when I make my kids’ mac n’ cheese? (The label that comes with non-stick pans tells you to remove small birds from the house before cooking with them because the fumes can kill them! What???!!!)

Oh my god, I’m a freak, aren’t I? A freak who is never going to sleep again because I see my future before me, a trifecta of worries following me around for life – What is best for my children?/The fear of anything bad happening to them/Am I screwing them up? And we all know the answer to that last one is yes, because that’s a given with parenting, just like the worrying. I am going to leave a smudge on their beautiful, perfect, impressionable little souls no matter how much I don’t mean to.

I think these days there’s just a lot a parent can worry about if they let themselves. And clearly I am letting myself. Hopefully our house will sell soon so I can worry about that instead. I’m sure my children would be grateful. And probably my husband, too. And all of my mom friends with school-age kids.

It’s for real now

By Liz April 8, 2013 About Me, Bathroom Remodel, Bedroom Remodel, Before and After Photos, Country Life, Flooring, kitchen Remodel 4 Comments

Our house if officially on the market, as that lock box on our original 1913 doorknob indicates. We have our first showing tomorrow (Tuesday) from 5pm-6pm, which is a totally convenient time when you have 2 little kids. Not that we expected this to go any differently.

I am a mix of anxious, excited, proud and sad. I feel like I’m sending an injured animal that I nursed back to life out into the wilderness, seeing how she fares on her own without me to protect her.

In so many ways this house was our first child. We equal parts loved it and cursed it, and I feel certain that it liked to mess with us, challenging us at the  most inopportune times (You have no heat and limited electricity? Let’s see how you do without a water heater, too! Hahahaha!). But now I feel there’s a mutual respect. In my mind, this house is a beautiful bitch, probably in part because I know how frightening she once was – totally neglected, but loaded with vintage charm. And we brought her back to life, adding modern touches to keep her relevant.

Joey’s cousin, a professional photographer who is married to former real estate agent, came over last week to take the pictures that appear with our listing. You’ve seen many photos of my home over the years and in various stages. Here’s an overview of what she looks like now.

She’s been a good home to us, even when she was run down. And now it’s someone else’s turn to introduce their family to her and make a zillion amazing memories within her walls, just as we have.

You guys. I am already crying and technically no one has even looked at her yet. I am going to be a mess if she actually sells.

We’ve still got DIY in us

By Liz March 27, 2013 About Me, Basement Remodel, Demolition, Drywalling, Great Tools, kitchen Remodel No Comments

A few spots in the house needed some spiffying up before we release it onto the market, and they required Joey and I to revisit our DIY roots to patch up work we had originally done 6-7 years ago.

It felt weird to pull on my ratty home remodeling clothes that have been stashed away for years. It was strange to dig out the tools we needed – they felt like forgotten friends.

We fell right back into our old routines and duties. My tasks were to go over caulk I had first applied around windows and moulding years ago (it was starting to shrink and pull away) and to clean out a small portion of our basement that was still buried in remodeling rubble from our kitchen remodel, which we did while I was pregnant with Adeline…3.5 years ago. It’s been on our To Do list since then, but babies tend to delay To Dos. Joey was in charge of hanging drywall in the basement to spruce it up a little, making the Hey! It’s a Dungeon! section look a wee tad less scary.

These are my caulking pants. I know, it’s ridiculous that I have pants especially for caulking, but I lived in these suckers for a few weeks and every tan and white blob on them comes from caulk. I have to admit, I was giddy to find that they still fit me, two babies later. I hope you’ll take a moment to read this post so you can fully understand my relationship with these pants. Yes, I said relationship.

Then I got my trusty caulk gun and loaded it up, all the while reminiscing over the time we spent together so many years ago.

By the way, if you would like a caulk tutorial, I posted one here at the height of my caulking career.

And I got to work. It took a few tries to remember how to do it, but I got it. Here’s a before and after so you can see what I’m talking about. I was running a new bead of caulk in gaps that had formed (from the old caulk withering up) between ceiling moulding and our ceiling.

Then I headed down to the basement to revisit another form of work I used to be intimately acquainted with – cleaning up remodeling ruble, like chunks of plaster, pieces of lath and scraps of insulation. The spot I was working in was tucked under the basement stairwell, and I never dared enter it cause it was obviously Spider Nirvana – dark, dirty, cobwebby and never ever disturbed by humans. I had spent the last 3.5 years waiting for Joey to climb in there and clean it out, but…it’s close quarters under there and Joey claims he can’t fit, let alone “clean” in there. It’s not the first time he’s used that excuse, forcing me to squeeze into other spider kingdoms in our house (here and here).

So, I put on my spider protection gear (aka a hat and hooded sweatshirt), as well as a mask to limit the amount of lead-paint infused plaster wall dust I’d be inhaling. This is what I used to look like on most Saturday nights.

See the steps behind me? That’s the spot I cleaned (underneath them), and when this picture was taken I had just crawled out from behind them after filling 2 garbage bags with ancient remodeling refuse.

Then it was Joey’s turn. He lugged sheets of drywall from our attic (it’s a long story for another post, but our attic has been home to 40 sheets of drywall since 2007) into the basement. Now here’s the funny thing about that new wall Joey put up. There used to be a wall there. A cool wooden on. But we tore it down cause “We are, like, so totally going to open up this basement and fix it all up so it’s awesome” said Joey and Liz, the novice home remodelers that had no idea what it takes to actually fix up a basement, and therefore it still looks like a shit hole.

And ya know what? When our tasks were completed, we both agreed that it felt really good to be doing this kind of work again. We had spent years living like this, our weekends and evenings filled with tools, dirt, beers, laughter and tears as we busted our asses to fix our house. It was hell, but the kind that’s really rewarding and sometimes even fun. It had a huge impacted on me and my marriage, bettering both.

Only this time, we had two little helpers to keep an eye on while we took turns working and watching them.

See how when it was my turn to watch them I put them to work? Sweep, Crosby! Sweep!

And now Joey wears pink barrettes in his hair when he uses his table saw, compliments of his daughter who wanted to make sure his hair stayed out of his eyes while he cut with “that really loud scissors.”

As we start looking for our new home we often discuss buying another fixer upper and if it would be possible to remodel a house (with loads of hired help this time) and raise kids without anyone loosing their minds or suffering a horrible injury. The jury is still out on that one. But we do already have all the tools and some of the know-how…

Desperate

By Liz March 19, 2013 Adeline, Country Life, Crosby 9 Comments

I knew winter would be a test of my stay-at-home-mom-ability, as we’re more cooped up, I have to get more creative at entertaining two kids and fight off a strong urge to pack my car and family up and drive until it’s warm outside. I feel like all northerners get antsy for spring around this time, but this year I really feel like I may lose it if it doesn’t stop snowing or feeling frigid soon. So we’ve been trying to ignore the freezing temps and do spring things anyway.

Like trespass at county parks that stayed closed all winter, making the only set of tracks on acres of untouched snow.

We livened up trudging though the snow by strapping snow shoes on Addy’s feet.


Addy’s Papa bought her those snow shoes last year. This is the first time her feet were big enough for them.

We broke out beach toys and tried them in the snow instead of the sand.

Crosby dug out his Fisher Price golf clubs and used them to beat the crap out of the snow.

We scraped snow and ice off of swings and slides.

Addy was super excited about this.

We ate ice cream cones outside without fear of drips.

And then we went back inside, because it’s really frigging cold out.

Clones

By Liz March 5, 2013 About Me, Adeline, Country Life, Crosby 1 Comment

These might as well be photos of Joey and me.

Last night we threw all the couch cushions on the floor and let the kids build a fort with them, but sitting on a cushionless couch proved to be just as interesting.

What’s ironic is that the television wasn’t even on when these photos were taken, which probably explains Crosby’s perplexed expression as he fumbles with the remote (Why the f*$% isn’t thing working??!!!). I love that Addy could care less. As long as she has a snack and a blanket, she’s happy. Like I said, these might as well be pictures of Joey and me.

.

P.S. A lot of people ask me about the necklace Crosby wears, assuming it’s a fashion statement I’m making for him. It’s an amber teething necklace. His one-year molars have been brutal, and I had read/heard that some moms swear by these things (apparently amber has anti-inflammatory properties that helps relieve teething pain), so I thought I’d try it. I can’t really say definitively if it’s helped or not, but he’s been wearing it 24/7 since late December and it will stay parked until the last of his teeth pop through, just in case.

Cardboard city

By Liz February 28, 2013 About Me, Adeline, Country Life, Crosby No Comments

Our realtor requested that we work on decluttering our home in the these next few weeks before it goes on the market, and, obediently, we’ve been packing our knick knacks, family photos and surplus of toys into boxes and bins. At least we’re trying to. But cardboard boxes are the most magical things to small children, and ultimately, this is what happened to them before they were ripped apart.

Can you tell Addy’s come on to the scene?


And then I got in on the fun because Addy basically dared me to see if I could fit into one of the boxes “Because, Mommy, you are so big!” This was right after she had styled my hair for me, and since I was feeling so glamours, almost too glamorous, I decided I should probably climb into a cardboard box to take things down a notch or two. She, of course, took the photo.

I’m guessing this is probably what I would look like if I were homeless. Except the boxes would be under a bridge somewhere, not in a kitchen.

And then we decided to sell our house

By Liz February 22, 2013 About Me, Country Life 8 Comments

At least we’re going to try to. This may be a shocker to those of you who have been reading this blog since it was devoted to home improvement (Kelly!) and chronicled our efforts to gut and reconstruct our entire house. For years we poured all of our money, time, sweat and sanity into this place, and ended up with a home that was exactly what we wanted.

Our house a few months after we moved in. The first thing we did was paint the exterior. This is it covered in primer.

This is it in 2008, four years after we moved in. We were in the process of rebuilding the porch stairs. We never did get around to painting the peaks of the house (we couldn’t find a ladder tall enough and didn’t want to rent a cherry picker to hoist us up to its level).

Those things alone will make leaving this house very difficult. Now, throw in the fact that it’s where we started our family – the home we first brought our babies to – and envisioning our last day in this house makes me want to throw up.

Addy’s first moments in our house.

Ditto for Crosby.

So if I’m going to sob for weeks over leaving it, why are we selling it? Because it’s way too far away. Joey spends an hour and a half in the car commuting to work each day. The grocery stores and shops I prefer using are 30 minutes away. Our closest friends (who still live in Wisconsin) are all 45 minutes away. Things like good restaurants, movie theaters, great schools and diversity don’t live out here with us. Plus, we’re busting at the seams, with toys invading every room and children using every inch of space as a play area.

So we’re hoping for a home that’s more centrally located, has a 2 car garage (we only have 1 now), and an area devoted to the kids and their Fisher Price kingdom.

But you know what is going to be that hardest part about leaving? The awesome people we do have here won’t be right outside our door anymore. My parents and Joey’s mom live minutes from our house. And our neighbors…they are such good people who have bent over backwards to help us out. Plus, their daughter, Lydia, is Addy’s best buddy. I know Addy will be in tears when we leave her. We will all be in tears.

But it feel like the right time to do this. Our realtor is ready to plop the For Sale sign in our yard as soon as winter begins to fade, which means mid-March or so. Who knows if we’ll even get an offer. Either way, it feels weird to be prepping our house for other occupants and to think of anyone other than us living in it. Be prepared for many nostalgic moments in the future!

I used to write poetry

By Liz February 18, 2013 About Me 5 Comments

There was a period in high school when I didn’t get out much unless I was with my boyfriend. On the evenings I spent at home, I would retreat to my bedroom, dim the lights, play soulful music (think Mazzy Star and the Cowboy Junkies) and write and rewrite and write again – my words always tied to the aforementioned boyfriend – in an attempt to express the pain I was feeling during a time when I couldn’t find the voice to say it out loud (it was not the healthiest or happiest of relationships).

I have always written this way – dim lights, quiet music – even in college as I wrote endless papers for my journalism classes. I still do it today when I can. But it’s hard to find the opportunity to tuck myself away into a quiet corner long enough to really tap into anything I’m feeling and effectively express myself. I’ve had a few moments on this blog where I’ve been really proud of what I’ve written (here, here , here and here are a few), where I’ve matched emotions with words and found truth, even if it was just my own. It’s the same place I retreated to in high school, and it is my most favorite place to be.

A few weeks ago I stumbled upon a notebook full of poems and ridiculous drafts of letters to the boy I dated for most of my high school career. It was a trip, because when I wrote it all – the poems, the love notes – it all felt so profound at the time (I was 16 when most of it was written), but now it all seems…well, like a high schooler wrote them. While these are very personal, I thought I would share a few of them.

I recognize this feeling. Something in the way that the wind moves with you.

I looked into your heart and saw I was no longer there.

Somewhere deep inside my soul screams to your deaf mind.

I’m lost in your desert while you navigate the ocean.

-the last splash-

Everything blends into a mirage of love.

An image pulses in my mind – loves executioner.



Hearts combined, minds intertwined
Our bodies move in unison, your soul echos mine.
Spirits united, lives intermingled
Our love lingers on the breath of life.

And then I found this, too. It was a poem I wrote for an assignment in my 7th grade English class. I was 13, and it was the first time I felt words just flow onto paper. I liked them, and when I saw how much my teacher loved what I wrote…it became the first time I realized that maybe writing was my thing.

The sun seemed blinding, glinting off the area where hair seemed extinct.

Sweat shimmered on his forehead as he started the journey back to bed. He let out a sigh, muttering only one word, “Why?”

Why must his vibrance slip away, his body weaken and decay? His hopes and dreams disappear and become replaced with fear?

Fear of being obliterated  and becoming even more out dated. Terrified of the fact that time can never go back.

An awakening realization swept through the cobwebs of his mind, combining with a tear-wrenching question.

I have given my life to become the person I am now. Was it worth it?