The Musician's Wife

This is my husband, live. Check out his website as well, where you can listen to his music. bradloomismusic.com

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Soule Mama Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

 

Snow in January

Saturday did not go as planned.

Not at all.

I woke up at 6am with a really bad migraine.  The pain was so bad that in my dream I could feel the pounding and hear it too, it was so loud that I couldn't hear the person I was talking to (Dr. Clancy from my work).  Then I woke up and boy....it was bad.

So I took some ibuprophen, the only thing I could find that might actually help but also let me sleep.  I had to eat something to take it though, so I struggled through half a protien bar and a small glass of milk and went to bed, hoping it would be better by the time my alarm went off for work.

It wasn't.  I called in.  I told them I was hoping it would be better in about an hour, once the real meds kicked in.  Then I laid there for a minute...and woke up an hour and a half later just as my phone was sending a call to voicemail.  I got up, ate something, drank some coffee and water and took Excedrine. 

I went back up to bed and listened to the message.  Work was crazy.  Would I be coming in?  I laid down again--pound pound pound went my head.  I kept telling myself that the Excedrine would kick in and I'd get up and go to work.  11am--still in pain.  1pm, after a nap and MORE medication it was still really bad.  What the heck? I never made it into work.  My migraine lasted eleven hours.  ELEVEN. 

This doesn't happen very often, but when it does it really sucks.  I feel like I've let everyone down.  Lost money from not working, my co-workers having to take up the slack for my absence.  I really hope someone was able to come in--I was too out of it to call until after closing time. 

Plus, the old anxiety tends to have a good rush at me...is that thing that happened during and after my last c-section happening again?  It's a long story but the short of it is that I had the worst head pain I've ever experienced while on the table for the c-section.  I thought I was having an anurism and about to die.  The anesthesiologist thought I was having an anurysim and was going to die.  It stopped though, and we moved on until two days later it happened again.  Luckily I was still in the hospital and wound up spending a week there.  I couldn't lay down, or even sit, without that throbbing, awful pain that got worse and worse until I thought my head was going to explode...literally.  It was terrible, they put me on some serious drugs, from which I had a really scary reaction which gave me the third "I'm going to die." experience in two weeks time and also which the doctors said was safe for breastfeeding but several nurses said was not.  Eventually acupunture fixed it, after only two treatments.  Thank God.  Now, when the throbbing starts I don't have a panic attack, but it's been 4 years to get to that point.  Thank God.

 

The one thing I did get to do was go outside for ten minutes and stand in the snow with my kids.  Well, Loren took off immediately to play with friends, as per usual, so I got to watch the girls enjoy the snow they've been hoping would come for so long.

I tried to be in the moment, and enjoy it, despite the guilt from missing work and the pain still digging behind my left eye and temple. I even got a few photos.

 

      

 

 

 

I was ready with a warm bath when they finally decided to come in.

I also got to watch with a smile as Brad picked up his girls and hugged them before leaving for a show.

And, finally, I got to spend time with Loren and gift him with grace and video games before bed. 

Things rarely go as planned around here, it seems.

But it also seems I'm learning to be okay with it a little more every time.

 

Intentional Eating and Channeling My Inner Tortoise

 

 

I've spent the last four years slowly changing the way my family and I eat.  The first two years were just trying to get away from processed foods and add more whole foods to our diets.  The last two have been focused on eliminating gluten from our diets (I was diagnosed with Celiac disease in 2008). 

Now, over the last six months I have been adding to our slow and steady pace of changes an idea that has many names.  There's Slow Food and of course the whole organic movement. 

I prefer to call it Intentional Eating. (I'm sure someone else has, as well.)

Here is the thought process, and it is very simple:  Ask where your food is from.  Think about the answer.  Weigh it against your beliefs and standards.  If it passes the test, feel free to consume.  If not, put it back and eat something else.

Now, I go really slow when it comes to things like this.  I want to dive in and make huge, sweeping changes and then after a few days or weeks my stamina peeters out and I can't do it any more.  This happens because I am reacting, not changing.  What I want to do is change. 

So I've learned over the last couple of years that, though I am definitely a Hare, I need to channel my inner tortoise. 

Slow and steady wins the race.

Barbara Kingsolver's book has helped a lot with this transition.  She and her family moved to an inherited farm in Maine and decided to make a commitment as difficult as marriage and as binding as financing a brand new car:  Eat only local foods grown by them or in a very small radius to their location.

Amazing and infinitly inspiring.  I'd love to move to a farm in Maine and do something similar, but I, being a serial extrovert, would have to take a few other families with and make a mini-commune or risk unfortunate consequences to my heart and soul.

Not to mention that my husband's livelyhood requires a much more urban location.  There's not much of a market for running live audio in chickens coops or goat pastures and I have no idea if there is even a noteable music scene in Maine for his band to play.

For me, this commitment is too far a reach and beyond my abilities as a working mother of three young(ish) children.  It's a goal for later, tucked away in my heart for excited exploration in another season of my life.

Right now what is tangible is the idea of eating (mostly) local and organic. This means no oranges or bananas unless the fact that they are organic and not from too far away (California not Florida, Mexico not India) can justify their purchase.  Luckily I think now that our children are older, we could safely eliminate both from our diets and no one would really notice.  I also think that if we only purchased those fruits on occasion it would make them more special and be a justifiable occasional treat. 

It also means spending more money, but only in a way.  You see, when we bought our first 1/4 cow from Klesick family farms this year, we invested about $400 for this locally grown, humanely raised and slaughtered, grass fed, organic beef.  Along with this purchased I decided I would make 1-2 fully vegetarian meals every week to make up for the cost of buying all this meat all at once.  Lentis and blackbeans are cheap, even the organic variety. 

This, coupled with detailed meal planning based on specials at our local co-op is how I plan to balance our grocery budget.  We save in other ways, like using reusable "paper" towels, purchasing in bulk, and using baking soda and vinegar for everything from house cleaning to shampoo and conditioner.  (We're not quite there yet, I can't feel good about dumping a bunch of unused cleaning supplies and shampoo into the landfill and who's going to want a bunch of half empty bottles of srubbing bubbles and window cleaner?)

Occasionally we get off track, like when my husband bought a pack of paper towels out of the blue after not purchasing them for 4 months.  He didn't even really know why he bought them.  It'd be easy to get frustrated, but if I stress over the trees chopped down and bleaches dumped into the water supply and fuel used to deliver those rolls from Indiana to Everett, WA I'll be wasting time on something I can't change.  Life is full of mistakes.  Chalk it up to an on-field error and move on. 

What I am excitedly dreaming about in these long winter days is transforming our rental's tiny back yard into a beautiful space with raised beds where I can grown some of my own food, organically.  I've NEVER done more than grow a handful of cherry tomatoes from a plant sold at a grocery store.  I have no real experience in gardening and don't even know where to get locally grown, organic seeds or starts.  I don't know how to build raised beds from reclaimed wood and I don't know how to manage pests.  I don't know a good way to sequester a potty area for my dog so I'm not dealing with land mines while I work out there.  I don't know how to make the best use of my tiny space...holy smokes, I don't know much at all, really!

I do know how to read.  And so I am.  Diligently. 

I started with Barbara Kingsolver and will move on to other books, websites and advice from friends who are one, two and fifteen steps ahead of me in the adventure that is gardening. 

In fact, I bought this book for one of those friends and it never actually made it into his hands.  I'll have to be sure he gets it when I'm through.

You should get it too, if not for inspiration or your own intentional eating adventure then for a great story that has great information woven all throughout.

I recommend finding a locally owned book seller in your area, but if you have to search in a used bookstore or the library, please do find it. 

If any of you are on your own intentional eating or organic gardening adventure I'd love to hear from you! 

Here's to thinking a little bit harder about our choices, consuming less, supporting our local farmers and starting new adventures!

 

 

 

 

 

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Soule Mama Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

 

Permission

I spent such a long time trying to be someone else.  I wanted to be an actual replica of a person who I admired (and, admittedly, idolized as the correct version of mother/wife/friend) and had been told was someone I should emulate.

I am realizing now, over the last two years of healing from the scars of having my metaphorical skin stripped away in place of what others thought was better, that I am enough.

Well, I'm not really enough, but I have been given the power to apply the things I have learned, and will continue to learn, as I see fit for me and my family.

This is true freedom for me.

I have no desire at this moment (my youngest is leaning on me, waiting to read a book together) to write a list of things...things I want to do, things I have done, things I need to do.  There are just so many things, and so little of them really, truly matter. 

Don't get me wrong, I love lists (name that movie!) it's just that I tend to feel so accomplished once things are out of my brain and onto paper and then nothing much happens after that.  Lists full of things that are not attainable right now in my current season of life just serve to make me feel discontented and terrible about who I am in this moment. 

And right now, in this moment, I am under the weather, tired and not looking forward to having to leave the comfort of my nest to venture down the street to work. 

I'll share the one New Years resolution that I've actually taken to heart (besides my promise to get the color finished on my new tattoo before my anniversary in March!) and made my own.

I resolve to give myself permission to be in the moment.  Because when you get right down to it, today, right now, this moment is all any of us get.

 

Happy Holliday.

A little late...

But Merry Christmas, anyhow.

Love,

The Musician's Wife

Sunday Afternoon

 

 

My son is suspiciously abscent from these photos...he's been in his room all afternoon building things with legos and reading Calvin and Hobbes in quiet escape from his sisters. :)

Today was all about NO electronics, as I've been sick since Thursday and Brad's been at a conference and the kids have watched a lot of Netflix while I recovered. 

Everyone continued work on the ginormous train track they started last night, until Loren got a little uppity with the girls and put himself in time out in his room. 

Of course there was a lot of art going on, and a shopping trip to the store across the street. I still haven't been brave enough to try walking there with all the kids...I generally don't know what exactly I need until I get there.  A one bag trip could easily turn into an 'impossible to carry home' conundrum I don't realize has happened until I wheel the cart out the the parking lot and remember my van is a 1/4 mile away in my driveway. 

The salmon and potatoes are super easy and a family favorite.  Just coat with olive oil or, if you're out like I was today, butter on the salmon and canola oil on the potatoes, which were yukon golds.  I put the salmon on parchment paper, generously sprinkled with French Garden Salad Dressing Mix & Rub and put it in a cold oven which I then turn to 400 degrees.  Salmon on the bottom, potatoes in the middle for 25 minutes, then I swap them until I feel like they're done.  The fish is always done first, of course, but covered with a little foil it keeps very well for the few minutes it takes for the potatoes to catch up.  Simple & easy (if badly photographed).

Why didn't I remember I needed olive oil while at the store?  The same reason I'd forget I walked there.  My brain and I are rather in-the-moment forgetful.

I spent some time on the computer at my freshly cleaned desk while the kiddos played. 

It's been a lovely Sunday afternoon, indeed.

(Kitchen wetbag made by Pepperjack Home, more on this (and a giveaway!) Tuesday.)

&^%$#@ sprinklers!!

I went to bed early last night. (930pm, which is REALLY early for me.)

I got up early this morning. (345am, which is REALLY early for me.)

After getting dressed (happily realizing that a shirt which hasn't fit me since I bought it now does!) I crept downstairs, readied a snack to take to work, ate breakfast and started editing a couple photos. 

Well, I got a little carried away and realized suddenly it was time to go, NOW.

So I head out to the car and realize that the sprinklers are going.  Right near the driver side door.

I also realize that I don't have the FOB and have to unlock the door with the key. 

It's dark.

I can't see the key hole. 

My ankles get soaked.

Yay.

So I get in and realize that the van is out of gas. 

Then I realize I don't have my purse (which was left at a BBQ in Seattle over the weekend and I'm getting back later today) so I have to go back in the house and get Brad's debit card.

Yay.

So I brave the sprinklers again.  My ankles get soaked. Again. 

I get to the front door.

My set of keys is lacking one for the front door.

*&^%$#!!

So I go back to the van and my ankles get wet.

MORE wet.

And open the garage door to get into the house.

You know that light that comes on when you open your garage door?

Our garge doesn't have one.

I trip over the following:

1. Something squeeky.
2. Something round who's sole purpose in it's existance is to break my wet, wet ankles.
3. Something alive, with a tail, who I believe to be of the species feline, genus rightplacewrongtime.

 

Potential culprit.

 

Then I realize that I already borrowed his card last night and it is residing in the leg pocket of my scrub pants (which I wear for my other job).

I have no idea where I took these pants off last night.

These pants are dark blue and I'm trying to find them in the dark, so as to not wake up my hubly.

I wind up having to turn on our bedroom light in order to find them. 

They are halfway under my bed UNDER a blanket I haven't used since we moved here.

HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN?!

I get out to the van, drive to the gas station and realize I can't remember my husband's pin number.

But only after trying my own pin number fourteen thousand times getting more and more frustrated with each attempt.

Thank goodness for the credit option.

And that I remember our old zip code.

So I gas up, drive to work and, amazingly, arrive on time.

For the rest of the story here is something you need to know the following: Opening shifts at my job always have one supervisor/manager and one barista and whoever gets there first waits in the parking lot for the second person before going in.

So if you, say, pull into the parking lot at 450am and see not only your manager but another barista, you know one of you has shown up for a shift they aren't working.

We all go in and look at the schedule.

Who shouldn't have woken up at the booty crack of dawn and driven ten minutes to a shift they weren't working?

I'll give you a hint.

She has really, really wet ankles.