getting a ride to school

Remember when I wrecked my car?  Good times.

Well, last week we were informed it was a total loss--it was going to cost more to fix than it was worth so we picked up a check and are now on the hunt for a new car.

And by "on the hunt" I mean we haven't started looking for a car yet because we're too busy, but we look at other cars on the road all the time so we're definitely "looking". 

It was horrible timing that on the last day of fall break, we finally get a check to go buy a new car. 

So I'm back in school, Chris works on Saturdays, the state of Indiana won't let you buy a car on Sundays, and I get to wake my kids up early every morning so Chris can take me to school. 

We really need to go buy a car.

The drive to school each morning has been different.  I do not like mornings.  I don't like to talk to anyone that early and I've been very lucky that I get ready and leave the house before anyone is up.  My drive in is the only time all day that I'll be by myself with just my thoughts.  I need that time.  Because when I walk in the building at 7:15 to the time I leave (anytime between 3:00 and 5:00), I'm always needed by someone.  Kids, other teachers, a phone call, questions, meetings, throw up, a fight to break up.  That's my day.  And I need that morning silence to be prepared for it.

But this week, I haven't had that time.  I've sat in the back of a minivan feeding Harper a bottle while reading books to Elliott in the dark.  Not listening to NPR like normal.  No silence.  No moment to prepare for my day. 

It's not been ideal by any means, but it's not been as bad as I thought it would be either.  And seeing my babies before work has been nice.  Especially that little Harper Kimery.  She's super-cute.

But we definitely need to go buy a car.  ASAP.

{shutter}

Another home improvement project.  Cue "Tool Time" theme music...

It seems like every house in Beech Grove is white with black shutters and a white front door.  Boring. 

And while I have dreams of completely redoing the outside of our house, our budget has other plans.  So we're doing little things to update the house (like this and this) without completely tearing off the vinyl siding (which, if I won the lottery, would be the first thing I'd do).

So changing the shutter color from black to brown wouldn't seem like a big deal, but it ended up being a pretty dramatic change. 

This project was sponsored by me, but, as usual, executed by the handy Chris Graham.

I took these pictures on a bright and sunny day which was nice (especially as I type this on a cool, rainy afternoon), but the contrast doesn't show up very well.

 (In this picture, the left window is still black and the right window is brown.)

I hoped this project would take only a week, because I had lots of other things I wanted to get done before fall break started, but painting shutters takes a lot longer than you would think. It ended up taking three weeks to do the whole house--six pairs--and Chris finished up the day before fall break started.  I guess I should be thankful that four of our windows don't have shutters.  We might not have been finished until the spring.

(It's so nice how I complain about things other people willingly do for me, isn't it?  I.am.so.amazing.) 

The house looks much more happy now that the shutters are brown and the front door is red.  And you know exactly what I mean when I say "more happy," right?  Because I've seen some sad houses before.  Unfortunately, Beech Grove has a lot of them.  But I want to have a happy house.  And those brown shutters really help with the happy vibe.

You know what also helps with the happy vibe?  This girls cruising around the driveway while we're working.  That just makes everything happier.

Save Your Money

That is my advice for new parents.

I'm serious.  There is no need to buy toys for your child. 

Elliott and Harper's current favorite toys:

-all cooking utencils (Ellie)

-mail (Harper)

-car keys (both)

-boxes (both)

-cell phones (both)

-pens (Ellie)

-our vehicles (Ellie)

-rocks (Ellie)

  



shut the front door.

This fall marks four years of living in our house on 14th.  And in the last year, we've been doing some major outside changes.  The next project up was putting in a new front door storm door. The old one didn't lock or, really, latch, for that matter, and I was always afraid that some little person would just wander out of it.  Yikes.

 So a new one was definitely needed.  I love fall break for the amount of things I can check off the ever-growing home improvement list.  Chris dislikes fall break for the exact same reason.  But he did inform me today that he'll be sorry when I go back to work because he is spoiled when I'm home.  So all the projects must not have been that bad.  And I just wanted to get that written down somewhere so I could use it against him later.  That's just the kind of relationship we have.  Precious.

Here's the old front door (this picture was taken months ago, so our house doesn't  look like this currently).

 

Chris didn't think he'd be able to do the door switcharoo by himself (and I wasn't going to be too helpful with two little girls by my side), so his friend, Andrew, came over to help.

Since I was busy inside and couldn't stay outside to boss around supervise the project, I sent my assistant, Harper K., outside to report anything suspicious or if anyone took unauthorized breaks.

How tough does she look?

 

Fun facts about the old door:

-It's name is was Bronco.

-It came from Central Hardware (these no longer exist, but I used to go there all the time with my dad when I was younger.  Similar to a Lowes only much more warehouse-like.)

-It only cost $79.99 when the previous owners installed it.  I wish the new door only cost $79.99.

And the new door:

I love it.  I didn't know I could love a storm door this much, but I do.  And I would like to make a joke about how lame that last sentence is, but I can't.  Because it's true.  I guess these are the things you love when you're in your thirties. 

thirty for thirty {part two}

Part two of thirty random facts share for my thirtieth birthday.  Part one is here.

-I talk in my sleep.  A lot.  And normally it's angry talk directed at Chris.  About things that aren't real.  Like snakes under our bed, the kids playing with swords in our living room, or the person staring at me in the car.  It freaks him out.  And I don't ever remember it in the morning. 

-I don't like my food to touch.  If I could eat every meal with a divided plate, I would be a happy girl.

-The conversations I have in my head would probably qualify me for mental health services.  Good thing I don't talk to myself out loud.

-Lowest moment of my life: saying goodbye to my one-month-old neice as they took her off the machines that were keeping her alive.  And I still have nightmares about the sounds my sister made that day.

-If I didn't have any self-control, I could probably drink four to five Diet Mt. Dews every day.

-When I was pregnant, I was walking around my classroom one day and a sneak-attack fart happened.  I tried to play it off, but I'm pretty sure a couple kids heard it.  Ms. Graham is the farting teacher.

-I got married barefoot.  It was a mix of not finding shoes I liked, not wanting to wear heels, and not wanting to wear shoes at all that lead to this decision.

-To get to sleep, I require lots of blankets.  It could be the middle of summer and blazin' hot, but unless I have at least 2-3 blankets on me, I can't get to sleep.

-As a child, I went to the hospital four times for injuries.  Three of those times I was faking.

-I'm glad I have daughters so that when I'm old and in a nursing home, I'll have someone to take care of all my random facial hair problems.

-I can't open jars or lids with my right hand.  I broke up a fight in school years ago and have never regained the ability to grasp tightly with my thumb.

-I collect vintage cookbooks.  I buy most of them at estate sales or garage sales.  I especially like the small, catalog-sized ones that used to come with refrigerators in the 40s and 50s.

-The feeling of popsicle sticks grosses me out.  I don't like to touch them or feel them on my teeth.  It makes me shudder just thinking about them.

-While I'm not happy I totaled my car, I am secretly glad that I don't have to drive a stick anymore.

-I still have vivid memories of being five, swinging on my swing set, and making up the most beautiful songs known to man.  They would make me cry they were so beautiful.  I specifically remember one song about Captain Kangaroo dying that just broke my little heart.  Also, I was the weirdest child ever.

Meme's Birthday

A couple weeks ago, my mom turned 53.

I'm sure she'll be fine with me telling you that.  But, if she's not, she doesn't read this blog, so I'm safe.

We celebrated with dinner with the family and yummy cupcakes.

And, as I get older, I'm understanding more and more about why my parents always said they didn't want presents for their birthdays.  They just wanted us all to be together.  Because that's actually a hard feat to pull off.  We're busy and schedules are full.  So just having a family dinner, whether it's at home or a restaurant, is pretty special.

Although, I'm still okay with presents.  Let's get that straight.  Give me presents.  Thanks.

Meme and her grandbabies.

The whole Ritter clan.

   

It's a little sad posting that picture.  And while it's not something I want to talk about right now, that's probably one of the last with the Ritter family intact.  Change is in the air.  And things are going to get ugly, I'm afraid.  So pray for the Ritters. 

and then it was five years.

Five years ago today, I married the Chris Graham.

Every once in a while, it crosses my mind how odd it is that we're together.  How perfectly odd.  And how much God is in control and I'm not.  Because He did it better than I ever could have dreamed. 

I have known Chris since high school.  We grew up in the same church, our paths crossing every now and then, but not ever being friends.  He was a year behind me in school, a band geek, and beyond scrawny.  The opposite of everything I found attractive.  I have pictures from CIY trips or service projects we participated in together, but I don't remember him being there, he wasn't on my radar and I wasn't on his.

Five years pass. 

College and jobs, family struggles and my alcohol issues, boyfriends and girlfriends, completely different people from when we'd seen each other last, we meet again.  Our mutual friends, three guys from our church, are all home from college and we all start hanging out together again.  Bonfires, camping trips, and bonfires.  Lots and lots of bonfires.  Chris is playing for the youth group band with another mutual friend.  We are around each other all the time.  He's still scrawny and a band geek.  But this time, I am interested.  He, he is not. 

But because I am pushy persausive, we start hanging out more without our other friends.  Egg Roll #1 takeout and movies at his house.  Long drives in the middle of nowhere, smoking Black and Milds, getting lost and listening to music.   

We date for six months and then he breaks up with me.  We spend a summer apart.  I have never been more sad in my entire life.  My family suggests counseling because I just can't get over it.  I'd had relationships end before, but this one I couldn't recover from.  I lost twenty pounds in a month.  That was the only positive from that summer.

We started dating again in the fall, he proposed nine months later, and we got married five months after that.  It was perfect.  We were married in the church we both grew up in, by the minister who watched us grow up, surrounded by people that helped us do the growing.  Our reception was held downtown in the historic Stutz building in the owner's private car gallery.  An old freight elevator carried guests up to the third floor.  We dined on fried chicken and ate carmel apples from our favorite orchard.  We talked and laughed with friends as we stood next to old cars worth more money than I'll make in my lifetime.  We danced and cried.  It was an amazing night.

And it was five years ago.  That seems so long ago.  We were so naive.  Marriage is hard.  Hard, but worth it.  And I wouldn't change anything if I had to do it over again.  Even the rough, painful stuff.  I'd keep it all.  Because out of that mess came some pretty amazing stuff.

     -------------------------------------------------------

Happy anniversary, Crispy.  Thanks for being the most patient man I have ever met.  For always listening and offering help only when I ask, because you know I'd rather do it on my own.  Thank you for my beautiful babies and how well you take care of them.  And for being the best daddy in the whole world.  Thank you for making me laugh daily, even when you're not meaning to.  Thank you for being the manual labor for all my crazy ideas and for trying things you know won't work because I'm too stubborn to believe you.  Thank you for the millions of back and feet rubs when I was pregnant with our babies, for putting socks on me when I'm too cold to move, and for continuing to fight through your addictions.  Thanks for mastering the perfect pancake, for folding clothes, and for loving me.  Because I know that's not an easy thing to do.  Thanks for being at the end of the aisle waiting for me five years ago.  And thanks for staying.  I can't wait to see what the next five years hold. 

thirty for thirty {part one}

Really, this should be titled "fifteen for thirty" but that wouldn't be as fun.

Today's my birthday. I'm thirty years old.  And I don't have any strong emotions about that either way.  So there you go.

I was going to find some embarrassing beautiful pictures from back in the day, but I'm being too lazy right now.  So instead I'm going to share some completely random, useless Mary facts.  Because it's my birthday.  And I'll cry share if I want to.

-Most mornings I eat Raisin Bran for breakfast.  One and a half bowls with skim milk.  And it never gets old.  I love Raisin Bran.  (Wait, I just turned 30 and my first share is that I love something with "bran" in the title...gulp.)

-On the way to and from work every day, I listen to NPR without fail.  But when school is not in, I don't turn it on.  I don't know why.

-I love KISS.  It's the best concert I've ever been to.  And I especially love Gene Simmons.  The TV show I miss the most since we got rid of our cable is Gene Simmon's Family Jewels. 

-I am tongue-tied.  Literally. 

-My favorite novel, a cheesy chick lit book, is Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married by Marian Keyes.  I have read it over ten times. 

-I regret two of my tattoos.

-I had my belly button pierced in high school.  Shameful.

-My first job was a waitress at Steak-n-Shake.  I made more money than a 16 year old girl should be allowed to have.

-My parents paid for my college, but somehow I still managed to graduate from undergrad with $10,000 in student loans.  stupid.stupid.stupid.

-I know you're not supposed to hate people, but I hate the kid that (sometimes) lives across the street from me.  Hate him.

-We have one credit card and Chris has it hidden so that I can't, in a moment of weakness, go on an online shopping spree and spend large amounts of money (it has been known to happen...).  But I know where the card is and he knows I know where the card is.  And I just get it out when I need to buy something (reasonable) online and then I put it back.  In his brown dress shoe, right foot.  I don't know why he doesn't move it.  Because right now, it's become just the weird place we store the credit card as opposed to a hiding place.

-We had a cleaning lady for two years.  It was amazing.  But then we had a second baby and Chris stopped working and that luxury went byebye.  I miss that cleaning lady soooooooo much. 

-As a freshman in college, my major was journalism.  Then some time in my sophomore year, I changed it to education.  Occasionally, I still wonder what made me change my mind.

-I love being pregnant.  So much so that I've volunteered to be a surrogate for a friend who has been trying for years and can't conceive. 

-I love crafts and DIY stuff, but lose interest pretty quickly.  I've probably started or bought stuff to start 20 projects this year.  And none of them have been completed.  This is the one area in my life that I just don't follow through on.

doubling up

Our home is a small, three bedroom built in the mid-1950s.  It originally had one full bathroom, but some time in the 90s (given the fake wood finish), a second half bathroom was added to make the house more family-friendly. 

Perfect in theory, but when you take an already-small bedroom and add a bathroom to it, it makes the bedroom almost un-usable for an actual bedroom.  Case-in-point: our current nursery.  Just the right size for a tiny baby or perhaps an office, but other than that, it's not happening.

And while our small house keeps us accountable for what we bring in and helps us edit what we truly want to live with, it also makes the reality of two girls sharing a room inevitable. 

Once Harper grows out of her crib, she'll be moving in next door with her big sister.  I'm sure it will go well, right?  I shared a room with my sister until I was 13 and we're friends...now, anyway.  Although, for the first 20 years of her life we didn't get along so well.

It seems like just yesterday we were sitting on our bedroom floor kicking the crap out of each other or I was making her cry because I wouldn't let her borrow any of my clothes.  Ahhh, memories.

So in hopes of breaking my daughters' spirits the way my parents did, Elliott and Harper will be sharing a room for the better part of their young lives.  It's going to be smashing.

In preparation of this joyous occasion, we bought bunk beds.

They have been a big hit with Elliott.  She's sleeping longer in the mornings (maybe because she's not living in fear of falling out anymore since there's more room), and they're almost like a new toy. 

 Originally, when we ordered them, we said the top bunk was not going to be used so we wouldn't put the ladder up.  I had visions of someone falling off and breaking her arm.  But when Chris started putting them together, it became obvious that we couldn't leave the ladder off.  So now the top bunk is the place to play.  Because even though I declared on day one that the top bunk is to be used only for sleeping, no one seemed to listen. 

The number one fun activity while on the top bunk?  Throwing large books over the edge.  Which gives me a mini-heart attack every time because I think Elliott has fallen and I rush in there only to see her tossing more books over the edge.  Good thing I have really low blood pressure or this thing might have already killed me.

But it is pretty cute watching Ellie take everyone that visits our house into her room to see her "big kid bed."  And now that she's started preschool {tear}, she thinks she's pretty hot stuff.  And I tend to agree.

in the grove

The first time I met Kaitlyn Meeks, she was five years old and practically sitting on top of her sister, Ali, watching early-morning cartoons in my living room.  It's definitely gone uphill from there. 

Now she's 21, a senior in college, and a talented photographer.  Although sometimes she does use her photography skills for evil, like the time she made a wanted poster of me while wearing a reindeer headband.  It was not one of her finer moments.

But these pictures? Definitely fine...

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

A couple weeks ago, I shared my banned book week selection and mentioned The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie was next.  And you know what?  It.did.not.disappoint.

And, again, I don't agree it should be on the banned book list.

Narrated by Junior, a 14-year-old Indian living on a reservation, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian is engrossing and fun.  Scattered throughout the novel are illustrations done by Junior (or artist Ellen Forney) that add great dimension to the character and are sometimes more revealing than his actual words.

Realizing he won't get a proper education on the rez, Junior heads to the nearby rich, white high school.  Doing so makes him an outcast at the reservation and an outsider at the white high school.  Add some medical issues, a community consumed with alcoholism, relatives and friends dying too soon, and a best friend who considers him a traitor, and you find yourself just hoping Junior makes it through his freshman year.  

The book ends beautifully.  I don't think I could do it justice by writing about it.  But I'll share one of my favorite illustrations in the book.  It's two young boys holding hands and jumping in a pool.  The caption says "Boys can hold hands until they turn nine."  Precious and sad, all at the same time.

Things that made this book land on the banned book list: lots of boner and masturbation talk (hey, he's a 14-year-old boy!), lots of steroetyping, gay-bashing and homophobic slurs, violence, talk about naked girls (again, 14-year-old boy), and alcohol use.  Lots and lots of alcohol use.

There are really sad parts.  And really uplifting parts. 

As I neared the end of the book, I wondered how this could end well.  But it does.  And it left me hopeful.

 

it was perfect in my head

We went to the orchard, picked apples, bought pumpkins, drank apple cider slushies.  It was epic fall fun.

To complete the cute family moment, we were supposed to carve pumpkins.  Elliott was supposed to get all messy, Harper was going to love playing in the pumpkin goo, and I was going to not get messy, take some pictures, and, afterwards, clean up whatever chaos was left as Chris took the babes off for their baths.  This is what I had envisioned.  It would be a nice, calm, fall evening.  After everyone was clean and in bed, I would make pumpkin seeds and relax.

Instead, this is what happened:

Elliott got to draw her pumpkin's face--she did a really good job!

Immediately after Chris cuts open the pumpkin, Elliott says, "What's that smell?"  Um, a pumpkin, Elliott.  That smell is a pumpkin.

Harper puts everything in her mouth so no pumpkin fun for her.  Instead, she gets a teething biscuit.  And promptly shoves it in her ear.  Good thing baths are on the agenda.

This was the only time Ellie touched the inside of the pumpkin.  She didn't like the feel of it.  Awesome.

So family-pumpkin-carving night turned into Chris-Graham-pumpkin-carving night.  Last year was much better.

Cue the Ellie dance party breakdown:

It's completely safe that she was dancing with a chopstick, right? Right.

Pause to make sure Daddy's working hard...

And now on to some light reading while Daddy continues.

Oh, good, he's done.  Let's all get together and pretend it was a group effort. 

Harper K. presents: The Graham's pumpkins!

Tada!

twenty eight

Chris Graham turned 28 last month.  Like at the beginning of last month.  And I'm just getting around to talking about it. 

No big deal.

His birthday weekend was filled with a family reunion, family in from Ohio, and Labor day festivities.  So it kinda got lost in the mix and we ended up celebrating it the next weekend. 

Ellie helped me make cupcakes and we got to have our little family celebration that next Saturday.  

Too bad Elliott wasn't wearing any clothes during that party, or I'd share them.  But take my word for it, they're cute.  As all pictures with my kids are.  But that goes without saying.   

adventures at the orchard

Since it's October, the Grahams have to go to the orchard.  It's a rule.

So we went on Wednesday and it was perfectly crisp and overcast. 

Words are not necessary for the rest of this story, so enjoy some pictures...