10 Years, 10 Things

As of October 24th, Andrew and I have been married for 10 years. 10 years! It's astonishing to me that he has been able to put up with me for that long, plus the time it took for us to get hooked up in the first place. I'm fairly certain he'll never read this post, because he kind of ignores my posts to Facebook and Twitter, but I'm doing it for me. I know I have a really good life, and he's a huge part of that, on a daily basis. And that alone is worth some overt appreciation.

I would like to list 10 things that make me grateful I am married to Andrew Browder. Among other things, he is my favorite...

1. Bug Remover. When someone in the house shrieks at a bug running across the carpet or up the wall, he scoops it up and takes it outside. Our distinct impression is that he does not actually kill the bug (bad) but instead just removes it from our direct line of sight (good).

2. Errand Runner. This man knows how to make a list, and check things off. He can leave the house and come home two hours later after stopping at the post office (a package I forgot to mail), the shoe repair shop (fix a broken heel), Target (more Halloween candy, just in case), one of the kids' schools (form that needs a signature), Walgreen's (pick up a prescription) and the deli (lunch for us). He makes it look so easy.

3. Softie. Everyone who knows Andrew knows he shows his emotions, often, and can't really hide them even when he tries. He cried at our wedding. He cries talking about his grandparents. He cries at sappy commercials, even before I do! He calls Tate his "snuggie" and he kisses Quin every day when he drops him off at school. I am so glad I married a man who is not afraid to show his real emotions, on his face and in his words.

4. Exerciser. He takes care of himself, mainly to feel good, but it also keeps him in great shape. He runs, bikes, does that crazy hot yoga... and while he's not obsessive about it, he makes sure to fit it in. I admire him for it and appreciate what all this exercise does for him. He looks hot.

5. Organizer of stuff. How would I ever find anything if it weren't for Andrew? He is constantly putting away my shoes, moving my piles, throwing out unnecessary crap, folding and putting away the laundry, and is able to tell me where almost anything is when I ask. If we ever get audited, I am not worried. His file system is pretty impressive.

6. Fixer of things. Andrew is my own personal handyman. And everyone else's, too. If you need a dimmer installed, a toy repaired, a sink unclogged, a ceiling patched and repainted, an oil leak investigated...I've got the man for the job. Someone suggested he go into that "rent a husband" business, but I suggested he would be too good at the job and someone would try to snag him from me. No thanks, he's mine.

7. Goofball. My husband is silly, plain and simple. It's why kids love him and he's like the Pied Piper wherever we're at a park. Kids think his monster routines and knock-knock jokes are hilarious. With adults, he has a very dry, understated sense of humor. But he loves slapstick. And fart jokes. And good-natured ribbing. He likes to have fun, and not take things too seriously. Because I'm married to a goofball, it gives me permission to be a bit crazy, too...but also to be the sensible one when it's needed. He just makes me laugh.

8. Travel partner. I didn't even have a passport until I was 27, and Andrew had been to at least 20 countries by that time. He is an adventurous, awesome travel companion. He lets me plan the itinerary, but has definite ideas about things to see and do, which usually end up being kind of taxing, but always memorable and fun. Traveling with Andrew - with or without the kids, within the US or abroad - is one of my favorite things to do. I can't wait until our next excursion, always!

9. Pessimist. Andrew can find the flip side to any argument. Of course, this in itself has caused a few arguments. But I will say, that by always having to defend my Pollyanna ways, I've been forced to find rational arguments where an emotional, visceral first response would have headed me in the wrong direction. So Andrew forcing me to look at the shadowy side, not just the bright side, helps me make better decisions for the long run.

10. Epicurean. He likes good food, and he knows a good drink. He can cook, and he makes awesome cocktails. He finds the best dive restaurants, and makes reservations at the swankiest spots we can afford. He will drive miles out of the way to go to a brewery in the middle of nowhere, or a bakery in a rough part of town, all because he thinks I'll love it. When we travel together, he never makes me eat at a chain restaurant, and he takes my tastes into account when choosing between quirky (my style) and totally avant-garde (his style). He introduces me to new tastes, but he appreciates the old ones. His buffalo steak with red wine-butter sauce and caramelized onion omelets are legendary...and I can have them whenever I want!

Those are not necessarily the 10 most important or even noteworthy things that make Andrew who he is as a person, but they are some that I appreciate right now, after being on this journey with him for the past decade and looking forward to many years to come.

Being a Sweet means appreciating your mate, and not just in private. My husband is a very Sweet man, even if it's not his last name.

Dressing Up is Becoming

It's recently been pointed out to me that my philosophy on "dress up" in our home is not typical. We have a costume box, like many homes, that contains everything from basic capes and crowns, to tool belts and helmets, to very specific Star Wars and Disney movie characters. My sons LOVE dress-up, and they have since before they could completely dress themselves. They think about costumes year-round, and they wear them at least weekly, if not more frequently, almost anytime they want.

When other children come over to our house, dress-up is almost always on the agenda. Our costume box is full to the point of taking up most of the closet, and yet we welcome more. This is a legendary costume collection among the 4-to-7-year-old set we know. Neighbors and cousins love it, and my mother-in-law is a key contributor to it, often buying the boys 2 or 3 costumes around Halloween, when they are on sale. I rarely say "no" when asked, "Can we play costumes?"

I believe that dressing up allows a child to truly become someone else, even for a moment, and it is totally empowering...not to mention fun!

Quin is currently obsessed with Indiana Jones. For his 7th birthday, we got him a "real" Indiana Jones fedora (though made of study felt, it does look pretty good), a canvas satchel (aka "treat bag" for trick-or-treating) and a leather whip (thank you, CostumeExpress.com!). We went to Kohl's so he could pick out some tan cargo pants and a shirt. We found the pants. I also found an Indiana Jones LEGO t-shirt at the LEGO store, and that is now his favorite. However, what he really wants a shirt that buttons up, so he can leave it open to his stomach, like Harrison Ford does on the DVD box cover. (Yowza! Not sure that is a good look for a 1st grader, but we'll see...) He also is dying for a leather jacket. We are not going to settle for a "fake costume" with a shirt stitched to a vinyl jacket front, like they have at the Party Warehouse, but it may take me a lot of hunting through second hand stores to find a leather-ish jacket that will work. For now, he's wearing a brown fleece jacket that I got on sale at Lands End. The color was enough to make him smile for hours.

And this leads me to my point: when Quin dresses up in this assortment of adventure-looking clothing, he IS Indiana Jones. While wearing this get-up, he is intensely interested in ancient artifacts, he wants to protect people and to find long-lost treasure. He is learning to use a compass (thanks, Grammy, for the adventure kit!), and is excited to read more and longer words so he can navigate through jungles using complicated maps...leading to treasure, of course. He knows to use his whip only outside, away from other humans, and honestly, he's getting pretty good at it! He is motivated on a whole new level when he becomes Indiana Jones, and that is alright by me. It will be years before he figures out that having "a new girl in every movie" says something about his sexual lethario rep... Instead, he sees it as Indy having a lot of cool friends, just like Quin does in real life.

Another funny thing is the way the boys include one another in their costumed adventures. Currently, when Quin becomes Indy, his little brother becomes "Shorty," the Chinese sidekick Indy has in one of the film. Tate doesn't even care what he wears, as long as he is wearing the little Chinese hat we have, and he gets to follow along on the adventures all over the house, in the yard, and at the park. They are hilarious to watch. And I am so happy that they can "become" different people, and yet still find a way to include one another (e.g. Batmat & Robin, Luke Skywalker & Anakin or Darth Vader, Spider-man in both red/blue and black, king & knight, etc.). They are quite a pair. A documentary film crew would have fun in this house.

I'm glad they love it, and I will encourage it until they get "too old" for such simple pleasures, and we pass the costumes on to the next generation of superhero-adventurer-dragon slayers. Dress-up is a very Sweet thing.

Never-ending summer

This has been a loooooong summer. Memorial Day was early and Labor Day is late, and it's been cool most of the time so the days have really blended together. So many of my friends are chomping at the bit to get their little fillys off to school, they all can't wait for "normal." But not me. I would like to have a never-ending summer. Here are just a few of the things I will miss when my kids go back to school on Tuesday:

• The way not-quite-7 year old Quin has been my fool-proof alarm clock, waking me up by crawling into bed with us right around 7 or 7:15 each day. Seriously, I will detest having to set an alarm to get up at 6:30 in order to leave for school by 7:35. But most of all, I am dreading the loss of that awesome cuddle time with my precious boy.

• I will miss the extra-long stories that Tate tells over his breakfast, usually around 9AM, that involve a combination of dreams, outright imagination, action movies and tall-tales books he remembers in random snippets. The way his stories wind and ramble, with his earnest, wide eyes and theatrical movements have become a wonderful part of luxuriously long summer breakfasts, and they will be cut short far too often.

• I will miss all the weekends with nothing planned aside from the occasional birthday party, a possible cookout with friends, or a neighborhood street fair. The idea that in summer, activities happen spontaneously, or they feel as if they organically grew out of the great weather, extra daylight and more vacation time for everyone, makes weekends feel like their own mini-vacation. During the school year, it seems like even weekends are jam-packed with activities, so I will miss these longer, lazier times where we just enjoy being and doing whatever we like.

• I will miss the kids staying in pajamas until noon, or costumes all day long, and the idea that they can CHOOSE what to wear. And trust me, some of their clothing and costume choices, including hats and footwear, have provided much entertainment for our neighborhood! But now they will have to conform so that they get along in school... I will miss the free-spiritedness of their clothing choices, and their creativity in dressing each day.

• I will miss summer produce and all the fun I've had cooking and eating it. Rven though our farmer's market goes until October, the summer growing season is winding down. The Honeycrisp apples only have a couple more weeks, for Pete's sake!! I will miss both the food itself and the feeling of plenty of time to drive to Michigan or Wisconsin, just to get "the good stuff." (Again, those weekends are too packed for a random 2-hour drive to get fruit or veggies or cheese!)

• I will miss the really crazy late bed-times and watching movies "on a school night." Back come the rules we KNOW are important to ensure adequate sleep and not too much electronic stimulation, but I will miss all the "treats," such as watching a hilarious, 20-minute Phineas & Ferb with the boys on a Tuesday night, or starting an Indiana Jones movie at 8pm, knowing we'll all be up until at least 10pm on a Sunday night. Crazy stuff, but the boys and I love feeling like we're doing something special, not really radical, but unusual for kids whose usual bedtime is 8:30.

• I will miss sandals and shorts. The weather is changing, and I know the boys can't wear their Keens and Tevas forever, and I can't wear my Clark's cork wedges until it snows...but I'm still sad that the sandals-and-shorts part of summer is effectively over after Labor Day. I love this easy, summer fashion for all of us.

Oh, I know there are many good things ahead. But right now, I am lamenting the end of summer and squeezing out the last few drops of it. Being a Sweet means knowing how to really maximize summer, the most precious season of the year.

Social Ties

I just got a note, via Facebook, from an old friend. Actually, an old friend of my sister's, and that's what made it so cool. I have received personal notes from my siblings' friends, my parents' friends, old family friends, childhood rivals-now-friends, vaguely remembered classmates, ex-boyfriends, one ex-husband, a long-lost spiritual advisor, current priests and church friends, work associates, favorite clients, a crazy former boss, favorite college professors, current and former neighbors, and of course, my dearest old friends I never see and new friends I see all the time. And that's just the start of it! My family uses it as a primary source of sharing news, photos and joyful moments, and now I don't know how we'd live without it.

Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, blogging...they are all ways for me to both express myself (to be known) and to engage with others (to know them). It's profoundly rewarding most of the time, annoying once in a while (who invented all those stupid quizzes?!?), and most of all amazing.

I am astounded by the time it takes to really connect with people, but I don't begrudge that time. I consider it a gift. Because of the "social networking" options available I am able to truly connect with people who are relevant today, who are part of my past, and are likely to be important in the future. And look, you're reading this blog, so you fall in at least one of those groups!

Being a Sweet means being grateful for the social ties that bind us all, and recognizing that the work that goes into maintaining them is always worth it in the end.

Can I have a pet?

Every parent is asked this question at some point: "Can I have a pet?"

I have been asked this question at least twice a week by our now-4-year-old Tate since he was 2. My response has always been this: "Daddy is allergic to fur. Do you want Daddy to sneeze every day, or not be able to breathe?" Of course, the guilt applied here worked effectively until Tate went to pre-K and learned that there are plenty of pets that do not have fur.

We decided that we would investigate a pet when Tate turned 5. We would consider a non-furry, hypo-allergenic pet that could be cared for by a kindergarten-age kid with a lot of motivation. I had plenty of pets growing up: a dog who lived to be 16, several cats, hampsters and gerbils, fish etc. My brother also had a bunch of other pets that we barely knew about; he hid quite a few of them in his room. Hubby had pets, too, and we agree that having a pet is a really important and wonderful part of childhood. We just wanted it to be about the kids taking care of it, not us. (I know, wishful thinking...)

We selected age 5 because, at the time, it seemed far off enough to deflect most requests. It also seemed like the easiest way to allow us time to investigate options.

"Mommy, can I pleeeeeeeeeeeeease have a pet?" (Cue adorable face and sad eyes.)

"Tate, are you 5 yet?"

"Mommy, pets don't care if I'm 5 yet. They neeeeeeed me." (He does have a point.)

So this summer we have been deluged by requests to adopt other people's pets. These owners with lovable, older pets -- all moving away to places where the pets would not be allowed or happy -- each assured us theirs would be a "good first pet." So I did some research.

• Cats have fur, are decidedly not hypo-allergenic and hubby really dislikes them. = OUT
• Turtles require lots of space, wet and dry, and adults have to clean the cage regularly. = OUT
• Fish and frogs are just kind of boring, slimy, and you can't "hug" them they way Tate would like. = OUT
• Ferrets are nocturnal, back into a corner and pee (which therefore makes them somewhat smelly), and like to "hide," sometimes for days at a time. = OUT
• Hampsters are not very friendly and can bite. = OUT
• Rats....?

Wait. Did you say rats, like the kind we have to exterminate in the alley? As a pet? You've got to be kidding. Oh, whew, you meant a "fancy rat," like in "Ratatouille," with refined tastes, love for his family and amazing skills. But people are still scared of rats, right? I mean, won't our friends and family all be freaked out by our pet if we get one?

It turns out that rats are almost the ideal first pet: smaller and friendlier than a guinea pig, cleaner than cats, smarter than dogs, and more loving and bonded to their owners than ferrets. That being the case, I thought, "Maybe we should just check to see if there are any rats for adoption in the area..." and lo and behold, I found one.

Remy. Just like the main character from the adorable, Disney/Pixar animated film. So we are going to his "foster home" to meet this 3-4 month old little guy and see if he is a good fit for our family. If he is the chosen one, we will need to get him a friend, because rats, like most small pets, need companionship. So if we get one, it will probably be two.

I am excited and a bit nervous and wondering if I'm on the precipice of Tate's Menagerie... But it's gotta start somewhere, and maybe with this rat.

Being OK with who you are

I am not a camper. I grew up in the Black Hills, and I love hiking, and all the things that go along with being a nature lover. I love the wilderness, staying at our family's cabin and lying all night in the hammock. I know what to do when an animal crosses your path in the woods, and I appreciate them from a safe distance. I love campfires and making s'mores. I love all of this in small doses. Small, perfect doses that are followed by a shower and a latte and a return to civilization, where I can recount the beautiful hikes and wonderful time spent in the fresh air. People love to do these little trips to the cabin with me, because I make it fun. I am really, really into this when I know what it will be like, and I know when it ends. I have control, and I use that control to ensure that everyone has a great time: perfectly timed hikes, with snacks at the scenic overlook, meals on the picnic table, a creek to fish in, dessert by firelight... You get the picture.

I have always politely declined when friends have asked us to join them on their 3-day camping trips in the wilds of Wisconsin, state parks with crazy names, necessitating long drives, too much planning, and far too many horror stories for my liking. I have been OK with refusing these outdoor adventures, but my husband has not been. He has been secretly pining away for a chance to camp.

So I went camping. I went because when I threatened to stay home after an argument with my husband about my slowness at packing, my almost 7-year-old son looked at me with teary eyes and said, "Mommy, it won't be any fun at all if you don't go. Please come, Mommy...Please!" And so, of course, I went. I could not bear to leave him to the deep, dark forest alone. He might need me. And I might need him. Plus, I do like nature, and how bad could it really be? My husband promised, after apologizing for his packing freak-out, that if it was terrible we would go to a hotel, find a children's museum and farmer's market, and everyone would be happy. So I put on my brave face, shoved the last item into the front seat of the car (with my laptop!) and we headed for Wisconsin.

I won't bore you with the details of camping. I mean, it was camping, with a tent, and sleeping bags, and two blow-up mattresses for the 4 people who would sleep in the tent. Our little family was taking its first camping trip together! And yes, just like it should in the middle of Wisconsin in the summertime, it was humid, and it rained. Overnight. A lot. Everything was wet. But I just rolled with it. I mean, what could we do? No one complained, no one. Not the kids (who slept through the raging thunderstorm, I might add), not my husband, and certainly not me. There were no mosquitos to speak of, which was a shock. We had food, we had fresh air and trees, we had plenty of alcohol to drink, we had s'mores around the campfire. The kids could run around in the woods, all sweaty and dirty, just like little boys are supposed to do. They could pee on a tree anytime they felt like it. They could have juice boxes and Gatorade and chocolate milk, anytime they wanted. They were in kid heaven. So there was no reason for me to complain.

But I have determined, that I am not going to try and BE a camper. We don't need to buy camping equipment and go whole hog. I am who I am, a city girl who just happens to love nature. In doses. I don't have to pretend to be all granola-y just to be cool. Camping once or twice a year would be fine with me, and I think it will be. Because I know who I am, and I'm OK with it. And being a Sweet means learning to be OK with who you are.