The Mother Lode

Yesterday we sold The Bogus. Goodbye, Bogus. You served us well. We went on road trips in you. We brought a baby home from the hospital in you. We talked, laughed, sung, cried, fought, kissed (whoop), and spilled food in you. I have a feeling that Mike, who saw you on craigslist and paid a song for you, will treat you well (He knows how to play a churango).
The breaking story, here, though is the process of getting the cash from the sale deposited into our bank, which is in another state. My family has a habit of carrying large sums of cash in their ... habits (background: my mom constructed a garment to wear under her clothes for transporting thousands of dollars to Bolivia. Imagine a commando bullet-proof vest, except silky and with lots of pockets for bills sewn all around. No. Wait. ... Don't.). With my mom's story in mind, my main errand today was two-fold (bill-fold): get a new battery for Briton's watch and get a money order.
Oh, I should mention this. I not only had the money from the sale of the car, I also had the money we had withdrawn when we were this close to buying a VW van. Lacking a smugglers camisole, said cash was stuffed into various envelopes which were then stuffed into my "purse".
Syd, Clara and I entered the Fred Meyer Jewelery store to get the watch battery. I was dressed as usual in my crumpled, baby-urp-stained clothing and flip flops. Sydney was decked out in about 50 bow clips, attached to her hair/pony tails/bangs, etc. (She directed her coiffure this morning. Not the picture above). Clara, hostage in the carseat, pretended to not know us by sleeping.

I handed over the watch with my nail-bitten, food-coloring-stained nails to the Pretty Lady with Hand Model fingers. I'm not sure what she was thinking, but I was thinking, "No matter what you're thinking, you're wrong. Because I could buy ANY of this Bling right now. In cash." Then I patted my pregnant purse with a smug smile. Sydney drooled sucker slobber onto the immaculate glass counter-tops and I said, "Oooh! That's a pretty one!" The Pretty Lady (who really did have the most beautiful fingers I've ever seen) changed the battery as quickly as possible.

Next stop. Winco. The customer service cave. Where you can buy money orders for a quarter. I pulled out my quarter and then started counting out stacks of 20's, 50's, and 100's. My heart rate accelerated and respirations quickened. The guy next to me was cashing his work check and I could feel his eyes on the piles. That's when I realized that the premium price banks charge for money orders includes the luxury of private transactions. Possibly worth it. I was already planning how to avert a mugging with two kids in tow. As discretely as possible, I shoved the money across the counter and hissed the total. Whereupon the lady started counting it out again. In plain sight.

It gets worse. Did you ever play skee-ball at ShowBiz pizza? A Chucky Cheese-type establishment? I loved skee-ball because compared to any other game, you'd get miles of tickets. I bring this up because that's what happened next. Apparently, money orders are only available in specified increments. The machine started spitting out money order attached to money order. The lady was rolling them up around her arm/elbow like a garden hose and the neon light above her head kept flashing, "Mug Me. Mug Me." The guy next to me left to set up his stake out. I collected my money orders and then went to go see if I could trade some for a plastic spider or something.

I wondered if the guy was waiting just outside the Winco doors, ready to pounce. Even if he wasn't, were weren't home safe, yet. So I stuffed the wad under Clara, in the carseat. I figured, knowing me, that I was bound to lose the envelope but I would never lose my baby. And the Mugger would never think to look under Clara! Together, we raced back through the parking lot, jumped in the van, and hurried home to post the mother lode to the bank.

The end.

On the Reels

T's Art and Clara

Tulips and Treasure*

*photos courtesy of Grandpa Barker Photography

Grandpa and Grandma Barker were here this past weekend for Clara's blessing. We visited the Woodburn Tulip Farm and Geocached on Saturday. It was a fun day.








Sydney is holding a small book with blank pages inside. The cover had a girl on it with the inscription: "I Love To Shop." Syd read the book the rest of the day whenever she was in her carseat. She'd repeat over and over in her soft chirrup, "I love to shop. I love to shop," as she turned each page. Sadly, this book never made it out of nursery the next day.A park provided a pit stop after a failed effort to find an elusive cache. Apparently, there is no disappointment in not finding treasure if there are swings nearby. I think there is a good lesson in there for all of us.

Early April

"What's a Twinkie?"

I felt like a virtuous mother, indeed, when Talmage asked this question during the construction of the kid's "Easter" treat: Peep Bunny Racecars.We celebrated Easter with a fun dinner with the Morgan and Farrer clans.

We do not allow utensils in our house.

The dinner menu, after some deliberation:

Lemon-Rosemary Pork Tenderloin

Twice-Baked Potatoes

Spring Asparagus

Broccoli Salad

Bread

Served on white platters [insert dreamy "mmmm"].

Dessert, now, has specific requirements. Easter dessert MUST be: "light, springy, and stand out in a crowd, like a graceful, ethereal woman" (from DearAlisha).

Trifle. Check. Until you scoop any out (notice the ethereal woman).


Portland Mormon Choir and Orchestra

Briton, with a couple friends, at the PMCO performance this month. The choir sang, among other things, John Rutter's "Requiem." This was a great experience for Briton. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing them perform and seeing Briton up there doing something he loves. I'd never heard this piece by Rutter before and it is now, easily, one of my top favorite pieces of music.

Cook Park: Sunday Stroll

One picture before the camera battery died. We enjoyed the good weather after Stake Conference with a stroll/run (speed dependent on if you were 3 years old and under or not) with D and her kiddos. First time here. Hopefully not the last. Canoe trip down the Tualatin River, anyone?

Clear Skies

=barefeet fun

Clara, good-natured and pleasant, as usual.

Conferring on the alphabet, and other weighty matters.

In a Probationary State

Last week I was pulled over by a motorcycle police guy for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. The reason that is extra bad is because you might recall that I was cited two months ago for busting a police barricade. It was a very expensive citation. To be pulled over again after just two months is like the worst nightmare EVER. As the officer approached my car, I kept repeating, "Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no [repeat]." Then I curled into the fetal position and started sucking my thumb.

The officer asked for my license and registration. [plot spoiler follows: I rarely drive with my license]. "Ummm. I dont' have my license."

Motorcycle Police Guy: You do have a license?

Me: Yeah. I just left it at home.

MPG: I'll still need to see your registration

I hand it over with shaky hands.

MPG: And I'll need your birthdate.

I dictate and he writes it on his thumb (truly). I guess when you're a motorcycle cop you have to travel light. He leaves. I start my mantra again. He comes back and says (this is true, too):

MPG: Are you on probation?

Me: [to myself: what the heck?!] [To MPG]: Probation!??!?

MPG: Yes. Probation out of Columbia County

For the record - I don't even know where Columbia County IS.

He said some other stuff about felonies and clarified my birthdate again on his thumb: 13-27-05.

Me: Nope. I'm not on probation. Promise. I'm just, like, a ... a soccer mom (it was the most benign thing I could think of. But I guess I could have told him I make puff pastries for a living or something like that. It would have been equally relevant and persuasive).

He mutters into his radio. I can hear the recorder (or whoever) mumbling something else on the other end. The officer says, "Yes. The birthdate is important."

Then he says, "Oh."

Then he says, "There's a Robin Barker on probation born on 13-24-05." (same month, same year, only three days older - just a little clarification since those are Bogus birthdates to protect the identity of the innocent)

Then he says, "I'm not going to give you a ticket."

I uncurled myself from fetal position.

This whole exchange left me reeling with different emotions: relief not to get a another ticket, impressed that my doppleganger is an escaped felon, anxious that I was late picking Talmage up from preschool; and lots of funniness that the officer didn't have a notepad.

Tool Girl

The photo is a little blurry and the accessories are hard to see - but here is Sydney working on the dryer, which Briton had disassembled and cleaned out. She found a pair of ear protectors which she wrapped around her waist as a tool belt.

(The dryer and a washer were for free, courtesy of the Wilde's neighbors, via the Wilde's, who are always looking out for us).

Highway Robbery

Last Saturday was our ward's annual "Spring Fling"/Easter Egg "hunt" (the eggs are scattered across the field in plain sight).

The only rule is only ten eggs per kid. It takes about 3 seconds to fill a basket with ten eggs. But there are some kids who take the Easter egg hunt very, very seriously and will collect them as long as they are out there:"Hey, kid! That's more than ten eggs!"

"I hope nobody is looking..."

Other kids could care less:

Bedtime Routine

It is rare that Talmage falls to sleep following the bedtime routine of story, prayer, good-night hug. As we leave the room, he usually is setting up his next activity - be it legos, coloring, etc. He'll kick around in there for a good hour or so before tucking himself in. When we go and check on him before we turn in, we navigate through little legos strewn all over the floor, papers scattered, clothes flung every-which-way ... (okay, so his room looks like that all day long. anywaaaay...).

Tonight was no exception, and as usual, I didn't pay much attention to the racket coming from his room after I'd said "goodnight." About 30 minutes after he was "put to bed", he called me into his room, "Hey, mom!" As I walked down the hall, he stood by his open door like a museum docent, hand outstretched to present his room to me.

He says, "Look! I tidied my room!"

And sure 'nuff. It was one TIDY room. There was not ANYTHING on the floor. He'd put all toys, odds-n-ends, a pillow, EVERYTHING, either on his bookshelf or stuffed into his closet.

"Wow, T!" I wrapped him in a hug and we laughed together.

He was so happy about his work. He gave me an impulsive bear hug back and then asked, "What day is tomorrow?" Enough gushing, already!

If The Shoe Fits, Or, Silence of the Lambs, Or, A Cinderella Story

Q: "What do you call a man with no arms and legs on your wall?"
A: "Art."

Q: "What do you call his arms and legs on your wall?"
A: "Pieces of Art."

Or Scarlett O'Hara.

Last week, I bought the above in a spurt of ebay-bidding mania. Because I needed one of her shoes (side note: ebay gives me ulcers). A friend's grandmother's Madame Alexander doll was inadvertently left in a big bin of stuff she was giving us for the girls' room. Before I had a chance to return it, the doll had gotten, oh ... kicked around. And one of the shoes went missing. I didn't realize it was a vintage, multi-million-dollar collectible item. I didn't even know what "Madame Alexander" meant.

It was a big relief when the ebay package arrived last night, eerily disassembled. The shoe matched and fit perfectly. Briton put the ebay doll together and so now we have our own one-shoed "Madame Alexander" doll (which we are NOT starting a collection of). It fits the girls' room decor very nicely.

(I found out, too late, from the MA company that you can buy accessories only. A little FYI for you if you ever need a solitary shoe and don't want to buy a whole doll).

Blogging by Proxy

With Aunt Autumn's permission, the following link HERE is to her blog/facebook album, where she journals her and Leslie's activities with the kids. And today they are at the beach. What a life!

Springtime,

... we welcome you with open arms.

(The neighbor's trees, signs of Spring for our cul-de-sac).

Stay awhile.

Stephanie's Music Group

St Patrick's Day Performance

This was the last day of Stephanie's music class here, since she is soon off to greener pastures. Thanks for sharing your light while you were here. Talmage loved music group.

(An attentive audience)

The Fourth Trimester

Have you heard of this term? It's the 3 months it takes for a newborn to adjust to outside life and the 3 months it takes the mom to "recover" from pregnancy.

The growing pains of the fourth trimester have been eased by the live-in help of four people: My folks and Aunt Autumn and Leslie. My parents are a whirlwind of productivity. Grandma takes over household duties:and my dad takes over fix-it jobs. After they left, Talmage said he wanted to be a "Tool Man" like grandpa. We decided it doesn't take a village to raise a family - it just takes four adults. One to manage the house, one to fix stuff and chauffeur, one to earn the living, and one to nurse the babies. Among other things, Grandpa fixed the fence that got blown over in the wind, finished installing a sideyard gate, built a shelf in the closet, re-wired the electricity for a new light fixture, and five minutes before they had to leave, both he and grandma each started and finished just one more project. Grandma was equally productive and furiously busy: cooking, cleaning, driving kids around, playing therapist. In fact, it was during one of our sessions where I was reveling in post-partum depression, that she taught me a new word: mamaracha. It's Quechuan for DOWDY. And it's okay to be mamaracha for awhile.

Now that they are gone, Aunt Autumn and Leslie have taken over the reigns. They are entertaining Talmage and Sydney all day long so I can recuperate in quiet, run errands, blog ....

These are pics Autumn took of their Monday and Tuesday activities.

From one mamaracha mama: I thank you; I love you.

A Close Shave

A Bingo Day

"Robin Barker." The judge read my name from the top of his thankless pile of felons. I approached the bench. He read my citation: Failure to obey police officer.

Guilty.

[Monk tone]: Here's what happened:


Five days before Clara was born, I got a ticket for bypassing a police barricade. Unfortunately, this was no Dukes of Hazard moment. It was a lapse of synapse. Or, as the citation says, "no culpable mental state" - which must be a law enforcement euphemism for "stupid."

Fast forward to March 9, two weeks to the day after Clara was born. Here I was, in the courthouse, pleading my case. The judge reduced my fine by 25% (the maximum allowed by law) - down to $215. Driving away, I heard an ominous sound from the back of the van. Our new van. The one with less than 500 miles on it. Sure enough. Flat.

I had luckily (or unluckily) pulled into a Schuck's parking lot. Cellphone-less, I asked to use their phone. But then, no one was home. The two nearby friend's who's numbers I have memorized were both out of state (as was Briton). The Schuck guy, Shawn, said he'd help me change the tire. Shawn jacked up the car (in more ways than one) and then asked for the wheel lock key. I didn't know where it was. Briton would know - but that meant I needed to get home so I could email him. I tried not to lose it by remembering I just needed to be patient. It's not like I had anything else to do. Meanwhile, Clara was fussy because she had a poopy diaper and was hungry.

Since we couldn't change the tire, Shawn had the (at the time) brilliant idea to sell me some fix-a-flat. NEVER USE FIX-A-FLAT! It will cost you more than the sticker price. A little voice inside my head, which I will call The Holy Ghost, told me not to use the fix-a-flat. But Shawn said it was safe to use and he's the Shmuck guy. So I paid $7 for the can. He even inflated the tire for me, assuring me this brand was safe to use on wheels with ... monitoring systems. Except as fast as he put the stuff in, the air fizzed out. There was a long gash in the side-treads. I was stuck at Schmuck's. And out $7 more.

Eventually, mom rescued us. By that time, though, I had been gone from home 3 hours instead of 45 minutes as planned. With no extra diapers, Clara had pooped through the one she had on, and peed through the cloth diaper I had replaced it with. Onto my lap. So not only did I smell like leaky milk, and spit up, I also smelled like pee. But I was holding it together, folks, I really was. I hadn't even cried. Yet.

We got home, Briton responded to my email (the key was at home), my dad changed the tire, and then we drove to the Honda Dealership where they could tell us if the flat was caused by a road hazard or a manufacturing defect.

They quickly told us two things:

a) the fix-a-flat hosed our TPMS device. Cost to replace? $100; and
b), road hazard. Warranty not applicable.

Cost to replace tire? $160. If my math is correct, by 5 p.m., this day had cost us $482. Because of my mistakes. For every mile on the car, I had made $1 worth of mistakes. Good thing it wasn't the Bogus! (it has > 145,000 miles).

Then, to top it all off, I was being whupped at Scrabble. While waiting for the verdict on the tire, my dad and I started a game on his palm pilot. Before you can say, "bingo", he had 106 points on the board to my zero. That's about when the tears started to fall...

Introducing...

Like Sydney says, we think Clara is cool!

You decided to arrive on your due date.

Thank you for everyone's warm wishes and everyone who has helped us/is helping us out. Clara is a wonderful baby. She sleeps a lot and is easily soothed. She is a light in our family. I love stroking her cheek and nuzzling her downy head. Her skin is peeling off, almost like an old sunburn. Although it is hard to miss sleep, I regret each moment that, like her skin, sheds a day of her newborn-ness. Talmage has taken to Clara with keen interest. He tells her jokes, ("kajunk"), shows her how he can stand on one leg, and asks to hold her. When he came into the hospital room, his face was beaming with excitement. Sydney is curious about Clara and seems to have accepted her arrival with imperturbable equanimity. It has helped that T&S have had a lot of attention from the grandparents. It has helped that I have had lots of attention from the grandparents. They worked like the dickens for three weeks (fodder for another post) and made the transition from two kids to three kids infinitely easier.

She's Here!

Very healthy, just needs a name. Robin is not pregnant anymore and is recovering from that.

7 lbs 15 oz. at 19 inches
Born 1:50PM Feb 23, 2010

She looks like T and S...